Page 2 of Heavy
“We will figure it out.” Once again, she wraps her arms around my neck, our cheeks pressing together as we watch the flames start to come under control. “Homeowners insurance, it’s fine.”
It’s not fine…
It’ll never be fine.The sins I never committed will be mine to bear, because I had no one there to protect me when I needed it most.
2
Ronan
Three Days Later
Peopledon’tknowfreedomuntil it’s taken from them. Still, I made plenty of choices on my own that stripped me of that liberty.
Now that I have this freedom, it doesn’t necessarily feel liberating. Behind those metal doors, where I was theking, I felt the safest. Now I’m being released from somewhere I called home for the past fifteen years.
Valley Den Penitentiary, just outside of Durango, has been my twisted sanctuary. Few would see it that way, but for me, it’s been all I’ve known for nearly half my life.
The iron gates screech open, and as much as I’d like to turn back and ask them to rebook me for another quarter of my life, I won’t. I’ve served my full term but that doesn’t mean I won’t be back. The judge ordered no parole, which is just another way of saying, ‘See you later, asshole.’
Whatever.
Without even a bag to my name, I step across the threshold into the real prison: Colorado. I’m grateful they at least provided me with real clothes. Even if they don’t quite fit, it’s better than walking out in an orange jumpsuit. I can’t imagine anyone would approach me anyways, but at least they won’t call the cops.
I'm standing in a parking lot now, where only a few scattered cars are visible, including a black Mercedes idling a few feet to my left. I tuck my hands into my pockets and take a step forward just as the door to the vehicle swings open.
Shock no longer resonates with me. Even if one of the towering mountains looming over this place erupted like a volcano, I’d still finish the shit I was taking. Yet, seeing the man emerge from the driver’s side in an all-black tux, complete with matching dress shoes, makes me square my shoulders and raise an eyebrow.
“Eamon?” I say, watching as my older brother of eight years stares at me like I’m a ghost. The same tawny skin as myself pales at seeing me standing here, I guess, or maybe hearing my voice. One he hasn’t heard since I was sixteen.
“Ronan…” I haven't seen him outside of a courtroom since I was eleven, and honestly I didn’t expect to see him again unless it was in a casket or an obituary, buried somewhere in an online article.
He closes the door and slowly paces toward me. I always hoped I’d reach his height and seeing I've surpassed him is a nice boost to my ego. Eighteen-year-old Eamon was already tall and broad, but forty-six-year-old Eamon looks more like a businessman who takes care of himself. I’m glad for it, but fuck him all the same.
As he stops about a foot away, he looks me up and down before meeting my gaze. He inherited our father’s brown eyes—the color of shit, fitting for what he is. Thankfully, I got my blue ones from our mother.
“You look good,” he says while smiling at me, pulling out the wrinkles in his cheeks.
I don’t say anything, just slowly tilt my head.
“I’m sorry,” he continues. “I had no idea you went back into the system. After you got out the first time, you just… disappeared.”
Blinking slowly, I lift my chin. “Family moved from where I’d last seen them, no phone to ring you at. Ain’t going to drive around looking for people that abandoned me in the first place.”
He struggles to swallow, his throat bobbing with the intensity of his guilt. “I had no idea—”
“I don’t give a shit,Brother. What are you doing here?” None of my real family had ever come to see me in the past fifteen years, and even if they had, I would’ve turned them away. They would only be disturbing my time;mypeace.
A half smile curves on his lips. “My wife is an attorney. I guess your file came across her desk. Byrne isn’t too common, and she knew I had a brother that had been in prison once before.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” I remark dryly before moving my hand up and through my freshly cut hair. “What are you doing here?”
He sighs but keeps giving me that sweet, safe smile. One he earned from the protection I was never provided. “What I should have done before. Been there for you. I’d have been there the first time you got out, Ronan, you have to know that.”
I tsk. “Is this your way of cleansing yourself? Using me as the tool to right your wrongs and forgive yourself for everything that happened in the past? Are you a God bearing man now, Eamon?”
With a grimace, he shakes his head. “No…” He pauses, swiping his hands down his jacket, likely trying to brush away the sweat that has gathered.
Do I make you nervous, Brother?
