Saving Rain(31)

I wrapped my arms tighter around myself and gritted my teeth against the winter chill, staring at the patch of dirt across the road. I imagined that Billy’s ghost was there, forever tethered to the last place he’d been alive. I imagined he could see me, angry and hateful and so fucking pissed. I wondered what he’d say to me now, knowing he’d never uttered anything worth saying while he was alive, and I shook my head.

“Billy Porter was such a fucking asshole,” I muttered, dropping my chin to my chest. “He was an idiot and a loser, and if I’m being real with myself, he probably would’ve been dead by now anyway. I just wish I hadn’t been the one who killed him. That’s all. I wish that weren’t a part of my shitty story.”

With another sigh, Harry wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled my body against his. Then, he said, “Soldier, do you know how many other people would’ve died had Billy not taken that pill?”

I swallowed and blinked away the tears. “I never thought about that.”

“Your heart is so good, and your intentions were as well—as twisted as they might’ve been. But if you had taken those bottles and sold even just ten pills to ten kids, that would’ve been the blood of ten people on your hands. And while it still wouldn’t have been your fault they were laced, you would still be in prison, maybe even for the rest of your life. And there is more to your story than that, Soldier. I promise you. There is a reason Billy took that pill before you had the chance to sell any—he saved you.”

Holy shit.

I had never thought of it like that before. I had never looked outside of what had happened to imagine what could’ve happened had things gone just a little differently.

It didn’t take away from everything I’d done to save my mother, only for her to continue being an ungrateful bitch. It didn’t take away the fact that I was still here and my best friend wasn’t. But maybe, by unwittingly sacrificing his own life, Billy had truly saved mine. Because of his carelessness, I’d been given a second chance. I’d gotten a taste of what it was like to be out of this hellhole. And for that, I could find it in me to be grateful.

“Come on,” Harry said, squeezing his arm tighter around my shoulders before letting go. “Let’s get you warmed up.”

So, I got up, collected my few belongings, and headed toward Harry’s Mazda.

But before I could get in, I looked back toward the patch of dirt and offered a small lift of my hand, a little inconspicuous wave, as I muttered, “Later, Billy.”





CHAPTER TEN


GOOD THINGS FOR A GOOD MAN



Harry’s house was small but welcoming in the way every house should be. I felt all the love contained within those walls the moment I stepped through the door that night, and it never stopped, even after Harry announced to his wife, Sarah, that I’d be staying for the foreseeable future.

Initially, I could tell she wasn’t sold on the idea of letting an ex-con sleep under her roof. Her stony gaze and tight grip on her husband’s arm had given her understandable nerves and fear away.

But Harry explained my predicament to her, and when he finally introduced me by name, the fear and anxiety vanished as her face lit up with instant recognition, and she asked, “This is Soldier?”

Harry had been talking about me for years, apparently, and I guessed he’d put in a good word because it was then that she rushed off to make up the guest room and told me I could stay as long as I needed to.

So, that was what I did.

I stayed there for a week, feeling like I’d tripped and fallen into the lap of hospitable luxury, and then, just like that, it was Christmas.

Now, Christmas with Gramma and Grampa had always been nice—whether Diane decided to show up or not. There were always presents, and Gramma always made a nice dinner. But the thing about Christmas with Gramma and Grampa was, it was always just us. Which was still fine and forever appreciated, especially because after they were gone, I didn’t have Christmas at all really. But it had been small, quiet, and low-key, much like everything else during my life with my grandparents. So, anytime one of the kids in school had mentioned how crazy their holiday had been, I’d fantasize about what that might’ve been like while never really knowing what to imagine. I’d seen big family get-togethers on TV plenty of times, but was that really what it was like? Or was it exaggerated for the sake of entertainment? I had never really known—that was, until I spent Christmas with Harry’s family.

Harry was one of four kids, and each of them was married with children, and several of those children had children of their own. Now, somehow, they’d planned to squeeze all forty-six of those people into their little house, and although I couldn’t begin to fathom what kind of miracle they needed to pull off to make that happen, I also couldn’t wait as I helped Sarah cook dinner just hours before the guests were supposed to arrive.

“It’s definitely handy, having you around,” she commented as I easily reached a baking dish from the top shelf of a cabinet.

“Hey, it’s the least I can do.” I then brought down the ingredients for what she’d said was her famous cornbread casserole. “I gotta do something to feel useful when you’re feeding me and giving me a place to sleep.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, sweetie. You’re our guest. You don’t have to feel obligated to do anything. Now”—she took the last cans from my hands—“your clothes are in your room. Go get dressed.”