Page 7 of Boyfriend on Parole: The Care of Broken Things Extended Epilogue (Breaking Free #2)

An Angel’s Chrysalis

He thought the time would crawl, but it went so quickly it felt like time was being fast forwarded.

He hadn’t thought there would be any preparations to make on his end, but there was a surprising amount.

There was training Bee to take over as Prison librarian after he left and also finishing up the labeling and cards for the latest batch of donated books.

There were also his items to give away, and the parceling out of his extensive pantry.

He kept a couple of things. All of Eli’s stuff, of course, even though the man had long since told him to toss everything, the cheap prison undershirts and mostly empty cocoa butter container the kinds of things only a hoarder would treasure.

There were also some of the books Jenny and Nathaniel had sent in care packages.

He knew they would be of better use to the prison, where the number and type of books was still severely limited, so he chose only one from each.

The copy of Crime and Punishment Jenny had sent him so long ago—and Nathaniel’s Letters on Ethics that he had read so many times the binding was coming loose despite his greatest care.

But his most important preparation was an internal one.

He already had several notebooks filled with important information about his new home with sections dedicated to each of the house’s inhabitants, including all their likes and dislikes, their schedules, and their patterns.

In short, everything and anything a reformed criminal might need to avoid stepping on toes.

The Saturday visit was the only one before his release.

He felt guilty about having them make the trip out when he would soon have so much of their time, but they all came—even Darren, though in the boy’s case it was mostly to give him some last-minute warnings against monopolizing his brother’s time.

“Soon,” Nathaniel said when he couldn’t let go of his hand. “So soon.”

It was like he was choking; some invisible mass caught in his throat.

It was stupid to panic, but the feeling was terrible, like a constricting fire all over his body, the fear that this was suddenly it, the last he would ever see of them.

That somehow, after over a year of knowing them and all the endless time and effort and anxiety and money they’d put into him, they would suddenly realize what a waste it had all been.

And he knew it wasn’t true, but the urgency of it made it feel true, and so much that Eli was forced to push his head down between his legs again, the goodbye sparking something too close to a panic attack.

“We’re going to be there,” Eli said as the fear continued to choke him. “We’re taking you home.”

But some part of him didn’t believe it. That night, and the next night as well he dreamed of stepping out past the gate, pushing straight out of the door of the prison, only to find nothing, absolutely no one waiting for him.

The dream terrified him, but he felt guilty to share it, even with Jenny who would have more reason than any of them to be insulted by it.

For six years she had lived entirely for him, dedicating everything to him, never missing a visit, never missing a phone call, never once losing her patience with him or making him feel anything but entirely precious and cared for.

But Rat heard him gasping that second night and climbed up onto the bunk to shake him awake—a dangerous sacrifice considering just how bad his friend’s startle response was.

And it was true that in the instant Samuel came awake he nearly pushed the man off the bunk, but when he recognized who it was, he did something he had never done in all their shared time in the prison together—he took hold of Rat’s arm, yanked him in, and crushed him close.

“I buried some money in the backyard at my neighbor’s place,” Rat told him.

“It’s not much, only about two hundred bucks, and for all I know he found out about it, dug it up, and spent it already, but if he hasn’t, it’s yours.

In case you get out tomorrow and there’s no one, like you said.

They’ll definitely be there. I’d bet my life on it.

But in the point-zero—a million zeros and one percent chance that they aren’t—you can use the money to get yourself some food.

A good shirt. Whatever you need until you can get yourself some money.

Worst-case scenario, you sleep in the park for a few nights, but the weather’s nice now. You’ll be okay. I know you’ll be okay.”

He’d already known Rat was his friend, but those words right there cemented it for life. That two hundred bucks, he knew, amounted to the man’s entire fortune, the emergency stash he had made for himself, a man who had no one else to rely on.

“I’ll keep your commissary account funded,” he promised the man. “As soon as I’m on my feet.”

Rat laughed. “I don’t need that, and anyway, the doc already tops me up no matter how many times I tell him not to.”

That was news to him. Eli had never told him. “He does?”

“Sure. Your sister sends me things too. She’s sent me care packages for over five years.”

That was even more startling. Jenny never hid anything from him. “I thought those were from your mother.”

“My mother’s dead. Been dead since I was sixteen, actually.”

“But those phone calls—”

Rat covered his face. “Just pretend, usually. Though I did talk to your father once, after that time you landed in medical with a broken leg.”

Startled tears spilled over onto his face. All that time. He’d been pitying himself for so long, and here was Rat, the person who had no one—who had never had anyone—and who had always, always been there for him.

“Aw, stop that,” Rat said, more embarrassed than he’d ever seen him.

“Oh, and don’t think I was nice to you because of the care packages your sister sent.

That started after I already considered us friends.

I didn’t even want to take them, but she said something about a Fuller always pays her debts. ”

That sounded like Jenny, alright. “I was so shit to you. All of this time, I was never—”

Rat shoved at his head. “What are you talking about? We were ride or die.”

“But I was nasty. Always with a bad attitude, and hardly a nice word to say.”

“Sure, you were a diva sometimes, but I liked that about you. Like a prissy little brother. I’ll be lost without you here, princess.”

It was a reminder, too late, that as much as he hoped to gain on the outside, he’d be losing things when he left too.

And not just friends like Rat, but the little sphere he’d carved out for himself.

Prison could hardly be called ‘safe’ but in a way it had protections that the outside world didn’t.

At the end of the day, there was always his bed, always the meals put in front of him.

He had the library and his closet, time with his typewriter and his notepad.

The Skippy’s peanut butter that had never lost its appeal no matter how many jars he emptied.

Inside the prison, he had a name. A reputation.

But outside he’d be just another ex-con, a nameless face few people would care about or have any sympathy for.

“I’ll visit you,” he said. “And send letters.”

“The letters I’ll accept,” Rat said. “But you’ve got a lot of people’s dreams riding on you. If you dare show your face here again, I swear I’ll put you in medical.”

He could understand that sentiment. It still bothered him to see Eli in the visitors’ room even when he was so glad to see him. “Then you’ll have to come to me. When you get out, we’ll have a spot where we meet up. Our prison-versary maybe.”

Rat settled down beside him, readying himself to pass whatever remained of the night together. “I’d like that.”

-

Samuel was waiting by the gate, with his bag, at seven-thirty.

“Doors don’t open until eight,” Mathews reminded him.

“I’m aware.”

But they did open early. At seven forty-seven Mathews gave in and cranked open the gate. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll process you out.”

There was paperwork, and somehow both more and less of it than he was expecting.

He was assigned a parole officer and strip searched for the final time before the ankle monitor was snapped into place—the one that would be there for the next four years.

Well, possibly less, but he was prepared to accept the full time.

Four years more of restrictions— only four years, hopefully.

He was surprised when Mathews offered his hand. “Take care out there, Fuller.”

He had never thought much about Mathews, lazy and not particularly intelligent, but now that he thought about it, the man had been largely innocuous, even something approaching friendly.

For the first time he considered the bizarre notion that he maybe even liked the man.

“You too, Mathews. Lay off the white flour.”

But then he wasn’t thinking of Mathews. He wasn’t thinking of anything, not even Rat, because as they pushed through the final gate and into the prison’s lobby, there was not one, but four familiar faces.

He may have pushed Mathews out of the way.

Or maybe it was someone else who did it.

But then Hailey was in his arms, and even as he hoisted her up, there were the others.

Nathaniel got there first. Maybe he was simply the most shameless, throwing himself forward, right at his daughter’s back, he pulled Samuel’s face forward and kissed him hard enough to feel the imprint of his teeth.

“First,” he said, grinning like a kid half his age.

Samuel couldn’t answer. He could barely breathe. Jenny had taken hold of his hand and was already pulling. “Quickly,” she said, as if Mathews would snatch him back before the minute was up, “Before they can steal anything more from you.