Page 31 of West Bound

“Then I guess I’m a fool.” It’s all I lived for in the wake of my marriage, learning the truth about my father and his associates. All I wanted was some way to escape the rot.

“You’re nothing like him. If that’s what you’re fighting so hard to avoid,” he chimes in, like he can hear my thoughts.

“I know I’m not.” It comes out sharper than I intended. “But I don’t want to just not be like him. I want to make up for what he’s done.”

“That’s not your burden to carry.”

“But it’s yours?” I counter. “This is the problem with men like you, you know. You all think you’re white knights saving the kingdom from danger.”

“I’m not a knight, white or otherwise. There’s no mandate. No kingdom. I just want the simple pleasure of watching men pay for the wrongs they’ve done. I don’t want to wait for your hell or wherever you believe men like him go. I don’t want to hope and pray for justice someday. I want him to feel that same kind of pain here on earth. I want to be the one who doles it out and know that I made sure some measure of it was served.” He speaks with the kind of confidence I wish I had.

“How do you plan to do that?”

“I think you know as well as I do how I plan to do that.”

“And you’re asking me to help you. To doom myself to the same fate as you.”

“What kind of fate is it if you stand by and do nothing, knowing you could have stopped him? You’re focused on one life you might help take, but what about the ones you could save? Aren’t you responsible for their deaths if you don’t intercede?” He argues his case in a calm tone. He might have been a lawyeror a philosopher if he hadn’t grown up with this life. I see reason in it, but I still have my qualms.

“That’s a Faustian bargain.”

I can see the slight shake of his head and the frustrated way he shifts his weight in the shadow.

“One I’d take again and again.”

There’s a long beat of silence as I finish rinsing under the showerhead. I turn the water off and reach for a towel, managing to snatch it with the tips of my fingers without having to ask for his help. I run it over my hair and then wrap it around my body, using my elbows and my free hand to get it into a position to cover most everything vital.

“I wish I had your clarity,” I admit at last.

“I’m happy to help you find it.” He turns, satisfied by the sounds of my movements and the lack of water that I’m covered up again.

He rounds the edge of the shower and pulls off one of the fluffy white robes I couldn’t reach from my chained spot. He unfolds it and opens it for me, resting it on my shoulders while he undoes the lock on my cuff. He lets me go bond-free for a moment, stretching my wrist before I slip my arm through the sleeve. I lean forward while pressing the towel to my chest with my free hand to keep the robe on and repeat the process again with the other arm until I can wrap the robe around my waist and tie it.

He pulls my clothes from the cuffs as he takes them off the pipe and tosses them into a pile on the floor.

“Hey!” I protest.

“You gonna put dirty clothes back on or you want me to wash them first?”

“I just want to make sure I have clothes.”

“You have clothes.” He nods to the robe. “I’ve got a shirt you can borrow inside.”

“Underwear. Another dress. Real clothes,” I argue.

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” He shrugs before he slaps one of the cuffs back on my wrist, gently pulling me to the wall, where he chains me to another railing.

“You really think I’m gonna run off barefoot in just a robe?”

“I think I wouldn’t put anything past you,” he answers bluntly.

He reaches back with one hand, grabs the collar of his shirt, and pulls it slowly over his head. The sound that escapes my lips comes too fast to stop, and I try to mask it with a cough, but he’s clocked me. A knowing smile dances over his lips as he goes for his belt. My eyes are torn between watching his progress and studying the ink that covers his chest and arms. There’s so much of it, and I didn’t get a good look at it in the abbey. But then I’m shocked back into the present when I hear the click of the metal on his buckle.

“What are you doing?” I ask the obvious.

“Getting undressed so I can take a shower. We don’t tend to take them with our clothes on around here.” He makes quick work of the belt, pulling it one-handed and tossing it down to the pile at our feet.

“With me right here?”