Page 46 of Penance (Rising From the Ashes #2)

Theo

S irens break through the silence of the night, and red and blue lights flash behind me.

I’m sitting in my truck outside the only bar in Benton Falls.

I’ve been sitting here for three hours, and by this point, someone has probably called the cops for loitering.

Although I’m not even sure that’s a law in Benton Falls.

If it is, a lot of people would be arrested—Ethel included.

She’ll hang around anywhere for some gossip.

A car door opens and then closes, and I let my head fall into my hands, groaning.

I don’t know why I came here. This is the closest I’ve been to a bar since I stopped drinking, but after everything the last couple of days, I needed a reminder that I am no longer that man.

A rap at my window has me pulling my head from my hands and looking up, only to find Hayes Miller, staring back at me.

His usual good-natured smirk is nowhere to be found, and he’s staring at me with genuine concern in his eyes.

Unlocking my window, I roll it down and wait.

“What’s going on, Theo?” Hayes asks. His eyes sweep the car as if he is looking for something suspicious. Alcohol. Drugs. Something worse. My face burns with humiliation. Of all people to find me here, it had to be him .

I started taking hits seventeen years ago, and they’ve been coming ever since.

Have a kid with the wrong girl… punch… She takes him away for half his life.

Sober up… jab… It’s not enough. People still expect you not to stick around.

Have a chance to make amends and build a relationship with my kid… slap …it’s all taken away due to other people’s selfishness and pride.

Fall in love with a girl who won’t let herself love me back… another punch… and that one nearly knocked me out.

Now I’m waiting for the final blow to land next week—for Tanner to tell the judge he no longer wants to stay in my home—and when that happens, I don’t know if I’ll have the drive to get back up.

Looking away from Hayes, I grip the steering wheel and stare out my front windshield. “Thinking.”

“This is not the place to do it, man,” Hayes says sadly. “Not for you.”

I snort because it’s funny that he thinks he knows me.

The pity in his voice should anger me—it’s obvious he knows about my addiction, though that shouldn’t come as much of a surprise in this town—but I can’t muster up the energy to feel much of anything.

Not since the ballgame. Tanner hasn’t been home since.

Morgan won’t speak to me. Mia was taken from Morgan.

And Lily—I fell in love with her so hard, I didn’t even see the ground coming.

“Are you going to arrest me, boy wonder? Or will you leave me in peace? Because the way I see it, I haven’t broken any laws.”

“You want to know what I think? Hayes asks, and I chuckle, the sound a dark warning.

“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him shrug. “You’re right. I am. I think that you’re here so you can punish yourself.”

My chuckle is more than a warning now.

“And who gave you your psychology degree?” I ask, turning to look at him with malice in my gaze.

Hayes smirks. “The university I attended. Had to get some kind of degree so they’d let me play football.”

I start to laugh, but Hayes’s face is serious. He’s not kidding.

“Well, aren’t you just full of surprises, Miller. Really a boy wonder. No wonder my kid likes you better.”

Hayes growls, and I realize I’ve struck a nerve.

Maybe he’ll punch me again, and I’ll have a reason to swing back.

“When will it be enough?” He demands. “At what point have you paid enough?”

Suddenly, the weight becomes too much.

“I don’t know, man,” I yell, slamming my hand down against the steering wheel.

Quieter I say, “I don’t know. When I find a way to get rid of the guilt.

Every day, I wake up, and it eats at me more and more.

It’s chipping away at my soul, and I don’t know how to get rid of it.

Maybe I’m not supposed to.” I shake my head.

“I can’t do this anymore, man. I can’t carry all this weight.

I’m going to lose against it. The addiction is like a monster lurking in the dark, waiting for me to mess up. It’s always there.”

Tears track down my face, and my breaths come out in harsh gasps. I’m no father. I’m not even a good man. I deserve every bit of punishment handed my way for the rest of my life because I’ve failed. I’ve failed so many times and in so many ways.

“How many times would you take a hit for Tanner?” Hayes asks with an abrupt change in his tone. He’s not annoyed, just direct, like he’s frustrated that I can’t see what he wants me to see.

“All of them. I’d take them all.”

“Yeah?” he asks. I nod, and he continues.

“Well, so would God. Except he doesn’t have to take a hit every time we screw up.

Jesus took the burden of those hits the day he died on the cross.

In one fell swoop. He took it all. God sent his son, and that’s what it means to have a father’s love, and a father’s love doesn’t keep making us pay for mistakes. ”

Suddenly, what he has been trying to say to me makes sense. No matter how often Tanner messed up, I wouldn’t ever love him less because of it.

“You’ve got to forgive yourself, man, because even though Tanner might not say it, he already has, and so has God.”

______________________

The baseball diamond is silent as I step out onto it. Practice isn’t until tomorrow, but I’m not here for that. I’m here for me, finding a place to go that isn’t a punishment.

After my conversation with Hayes, I knew it was time to make some changes. They won’t happen overnight, but I finally heard what Hayes was saying. I’m working on forgiving myself.

Although, I hate that it had to be Hayes who knocked some sense into me. He’s going to be unbearable to be around now.

With a bucket of baseballs in hand, I step onto the pitcher’s mound, sitting the balls far enough away that they won’t be in my way.

I already warmed up my shoulders, but I pick up a ball and throw a soft pitch anyway, just in case.

The loud thunk of the ball hitting the fence is satisfying, and I throw another and another until I’m breathing hard from the effort.

I glance down to grab another ball, only to realize the bucket is empty. When I look back up, I see Morgan standing on the other side of the fence, right behind home plate.

His jaw is a tight line, and his features are a war between anger and agony.

I don’t speak, and neither does he. We just stare at each other until he finally says, “I need you to take me somewhere. ”

And then I’m off the mound. I don’t care where he needs to go. I’ll take him.

We don’t speak until we get to my truck, and once we are settled in, I turn to him and ask, “Where are we going?”

His eyes are steely when he says, “To see my dad.”

Luckily, Zeb is still in the county jail. They will hold him there until his bond hearing in a couple of days, and whether he is moved or released will be determined then. From what I hear, his release isn’t likely, seeing as they found several drugs on him when they arrested him at the ball game.

By the time we arrive at the jail, Morgan’s face is drained of color, and he sits staring straight ahead.

“Hey,” I say, shutting the engine off and facing him. “You don’t have to go in there.”

Morgan gives a resolute nod of his head. “Yeah. I do.”

I follow him out of the truck and into the jail. He shakes so badly I’m surprised he can stand, but I don’t try to talk him out of being here again. If this is where he feels he needs to be, I’ll stand behind him.

Security waves us through, and we walk down a long hallway where prisoners can have visitors. Zeb is already waiting at a table, a sneer marring his face when he sees us coming.

Morgan hesitates, and I place a hand on his shoulder. “I’m right here, kid. You’re not alone.”

I have no clue what Morgan is here to talk Zeb about. It’s not my business. All I know is that he asked me to come, and here I‘ll stay until he’s ready to leave.

Zeb speaks first when we’re close enough, and I debate how much trouble I’d get in for knocking a prisoner out.

“Looky here, if it isn’t the traitor,” he says, staring at Morgan.

Morgan curls his hand into a fist, but with my hand still on his shoulder, I guide him to the only seat available. I stay behind him, ready to react if something goes wrong.

I still haven’t forgotten how Zeb threatened to kill his kid. Maybe it was just an exaggeration, but I’m not taking chances.

“See you brought your guard dog with you,” Zeb says, glancing over Morgan to me. “Afraid to face your old man on your own?”

Morgan’s timidness slips away in one blink. “I don’t need a guard dog.”

One of Zeb‘s brows lifts. “Watch your mouth, boy.”

Morgan grits his teeth then blurts out, “I want Mia.”

A slow, sinister smile spreads across Zeb’s mouth. “Figured that’s why you were here.” He stops, sizing Morgan up. “You’re not getting her.”

With a scrape against the floor, Morgan’s chair topples over. He’s standing, glaring down at Zeb, his chest heaving. Reaching up, I grab onto his shirt, a steady comfort in his anger. His body is trembling but no longer from nerves.

“She is not a game. You’ve not wanted her from the start. She is mine,” Morgan yells. “Mine. Do you hear me?”

Several guards are starting to look our way, and I stand, firmly gripping Morgan’s shoulder.

“Come on. We need to go,” I say, holding tighter to Morgan as he jerks against my hold. “This isn’t going to solve anything. We’ll figure it out. We’ll get her back.”

“You know,” Zeb says, his voice smug. “I could be tempted to sign over those rights. Although, I suspect those social service people would need you to prove you could take care of her. Which, seeing as you live in my house, I highly doubt you could prove that. But—let’s say you could convince them—I’d be tempted to sign away my rights for a little something in exchange. ”

Morgan stops resisting, going stock still. I narrow my eyes. “Whatever deal you’re trying to make, Morgan isn’t interested. I’ll help him. I’ll figure out a way for him to get her back, even without you signing the papers. He doesn’t need your help.”

Zeb’s smirk grows wider, his eyes zeroing in on me. “No, but you might.”

A humorless laugh slips past my lips. “There’s nothing you have that I need.” Turning to Morgan, I say, “Come on. Let’s go. We’ll go talk to the social services office. I’ll help you.”

He hesitates, but I manage to get him to take a step toward the door when Zeb’s voice rings out again. “Not even information that would help you win that custody case of yours?”