The Terms of Release (11 page)

“I love you. Call me when you’re having your lunchtime, and I’ll drive into town.”

“Yes, ma’am.” That would be nice, to know he had something to do on his downtime.

“Good boy. Go get the bad guys.”

“I will.” He hoped to hell that didn’t end up being part of his family. Today or any day.

S
AGE
LOOKED
at his Daddy, his head pounding. “I got this.”

“Son, I swear to God, I will put you over my knee. I can feed the fucking horses one time.” Daddy looked at him, lips tight. “How many were there, for fuck’s sake?”

“Four or five. It was dark.”

“Tell me you cleaned at least one of their clocks.”

Right, because he wouldn’t be the one headed back to jail if he did. The chances of one of those men working with Adam was better than good.

“I stayed on my feet and didn’t lose no teeth” was finally what he settled for. That seemed like a fair assessment.

“This ain’t right.”

“What do you want me to say, Daddy?” He wasn’t going to fuss about this. It wasn’t the first time he’d had his ass handed to him; it wouldn’t be the last.

“That you didn’t let them kick your ass because you were scared, I guess.”

Sage looked at his dad, making himself stay easy. “I’m gonna go work in the other barn for a while. You have a good night.”

Scared. Shit.

Going back to jail would kill him. He’d rather let those assholes do it quick than have the state do it slowly and even more painfully. He’d never told his folks about the beatings he took, how his first week in, his head was dunked in bleach and he couldn’t see for days. About how they took his knees. About Keye.

Nobody knew, and nobody ever would. Those secrets belonged to him.

The barn, at least, was quiet, if not cool. Sweltering was more like it. Bile rose in his throat. No, he wasn’t no coward. He knew what he knew. Sage put his head down and started working, the pain becoming a steady thing, something he couldn’t ignore but could move through. He breathed with it, in through his nose and out through his mouth.

“Sage Marlowe Redding!”

Fuck.
“Whut, Momma?”

“What are you doing? You let us do the work today. You’re hurt!” She stood right inside the barn door, hands on her hips.

“I’m fine. I’m almost done here. How’s your quilt going?”

“It can wait.” She tapped her foot. “I told Adam Winchester I’d bring down enough spaghetti for him too.”

“He’s a good man.” Sage put the shovel down and looked at her. “You okay with me… seeing him?”

“As long as he has your back, yes. I think he really cares for you.” Her eyes flashed. “He hurts you, and I will cut off his balls.”

“I’m gonna be the one gets him hurt.” It would happen, like night followed day. The sheriff or Angel’s daddy would make Adam pay.

Her lips curved in a smile. “He’s a tough boy.”

“He is. He was a soldier.” Sage wanted to die, to sit and stare at the TV and pretend he was sore because he’d gotten bucked off a skittish horse, not because he had the balls to go have a piece of pie at the diner.

“Oh, Son, I’m so sorry. I know you could have stayed there in California and not had this…this mess.” Her face crumpled a little, and he panicked. She couldn’t start crying.

“Stop it, Momma. I’m home where I belong. Let it go.”

“I know you don’t want salad, but do you want bread with your spaghetti?” Her shoulders squared up, which meant she was ready to move on.

“Yes, ma’am. If there’s enough.”

“There is. I won’t toast it hard. You go wash up.” There was no arguing with her order. None.

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for supper.” Lord, his head hurt.

“I’ll bring it down in a bit.” She turned on her heel, left him, and marched away like she was going to take on the whole world for him.

“Christ on a crutch.” He put his shovel up, made sure everything was as done as he needed it to be, then headed to his trailer. Every step sent sharp jolts of pain through his knees, and he gritted his teeth against it, hoping his hot water heater had recovered since this morning.

He stood at the bottom of the stairs and slowly crept up. Three steps, and he felt like he might sit on the second one and stay there.

No way he was going to do that.

No way.

Never.

Sage swallowed hard and made himself take another step. He collapsed right inside the front door, his legs giving out. He felt like a puddle of lava.

If there was a God, he’d die here, basically happy, pretty much home. Of course, his momma might disapprove of finding him there, so maybe he ought to drag his ass to the—

“Sage? Are you…. Whoa. Need some help?” He hadn’t heard a motorcycle, but Bulldog was right there next to him, crouching down.

“Bulldog?” He blinked up and tried to stand, but he couldn’t.

Bulldog obviously knew about dealing with beat-to-shit folks, because the big man lifted him without hurting him, without killing him. In fact, he was able to relax a little until his muscles started cramping. He stiffened, a cry bursting out of him.

“I know, man,” Bulldog said, easing him down onto the couch. “I know. It’s worst when it starts to ease off.”

“Oh fuck….”

“Where’s your towels?”

“B… bathroom. Fuck. Bathroom.”

Bulldog headed off for an eternity, and then suddenly burning hot towels wrapped around him.

“Oh!” He couldn’t figure whether he needed to fight or let the heat help him until one of the worst cramps unclenched.

“Breathe, man. Pant. It’ll ease.” As soon as a towel started to cool, another hot one was added.

He blew out a breath, then sucked another in, his chest working like a bellows. “Too much.”

“Trust me. It works. I was in the joint for fifteen years. They hit your knees?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn. Let me get another towel.” This time the towel was hot and wet and wrapped around his knees. The wet heat would help the joints.

“You… thank you.” He was going to puke, it felt so good.

“No worries. Wilma was fretting, so she sent me. Win is on a call over at the county line—collision with three cars.”

“Oh man. That sucks.”

“Totally, man. Hate to hear about it. Came through on the scanner.” Bulldog kept the towels coming, then handed him a cup of some kind of tea. Time had become so fluid.

At some point, Momma came and talked to Bulldog, and Sage thought she wanted to take him to Greenville Presbyterian, but Bulldog told her to give it another day. The low murmur of voices made him blink, and he tried to get up once, only to have Wilma push him down.

Lord. Was the whole town there?

Something cold and tart wet his lips, and then Adam was there. “I’m here, Sage. I’m going to take you into the tub, okay? If you don’t get this fever down, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Then he was flying. Really flying, like hovering above the floor. The world spun, but he knew it when he lay in the tub, the lukewarm water making him shiver. He reached for Adam, needing that anchor.

“Right here. Relax for me. Breathe.”

“Folks keep telling me that.”

“Well, it helps.” Adam’s face swam into focus. “You need to get that fever down, babe.”

“Bulldog came. So did Wilma.”

“Yeah. I appreciate them coming too. You needed the help.” Adam stroked Sage’s hair, smiling.

Sage closed his eyes and floated. “You have a good day?”

“Busy. There was a domestic that took two hours, then a traffic fatality. Sucked.” Adam sat on the floor next to the tub.

“I’m sorry.” He tried to focus, but it was too hard, so he relaxed. “Momma made supper for us, I think.”

“She did.” Leaning in, Adam wet a soft cloth and rubbed it over Sage’s forehead and cheeks. “This first.”

“I’m sorry. I’m trying to not be a pussy.”

“Stop apologizing, babe. You just need to recover some.”

“My daddy thinks I’m a coward, but they’d put me back in.”

“You’re no coward, man.” Adam wiped Sage’s face again, then felt his skin. “Better.”

“I’m not. He don’t understand.” Maximum security was hell on earth.

“No, I bet he doesn’t. I can’t know what happened in there, babe, but I know I get it more than most people.”

“I want you to know. I didn’t fight back because I’m scared of going back, not because I’m scared of fighting.”

“I believe you.” Adam stroked the cloth over his chest.

“Good.” He should be self-conscious, he guessed, but he wasn’t. He felt better, his muscles unclenching, his hands no longer clawed.

“You’re looking so much better, baby.”

“Feel better.”

“Good.” Adam grinned. “You want some juice? I had Wilma go to the Walmart and get that and more pillows for the bed.”

“Please.” Juice sounded like heaven.

“Let me get a towel.” Adam left, came back, and hauled his sorry ass to the bed. He got apple juice, which he loved.

He drank deeply, the pillows supporting him on all sides. He figured this was what real folks had. Support. People. Family.

“I’m going to make sure your folks don’t need anything. Then I’ll warm up supper.”

“Sure.” He felt his lips curl in a smile. “I’ll be right here.”

“You’d best be, cowboy. You rest. I got my eye on you.” Adam chuckled, heading out, boots ringing on the floor.

The day had ranked at the top of the weirdest fucking days ever.

Sage let his eyes close.

Christ.

S
UPPER
HADN
’
T
gone well. At least not for Sage. They’d ended up opening a can of tomato soup.

Win had eaten in the kitchen, standing up, talking to Sage’s momma. Bulldog and Wilma had headed off, Wilma promising to bring doughnuts by in the morning.

“You think I ought to take him to the hospital, Adam?” Her eyes were the same color as Sage’s—bright blue, sharp. “Do you like to be called Adam, son? I’ve always heard everyone call you Win.”

“Adam is fine. Most folks call me Win, but it’s okay either way.” He smiled, spreading his hands. “The fever is down, so unless it comes back up or he doesn’t start to ease off tomorrow, I think we’re okay.”

“Good. I hate seeing him like this, and then he was working in the damn barn. Stubborn boy, just like his daddy.”

Win chuckled. “Yeah. He’s stubborn, for sure. He’s resting now, though.”

“Good.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have asked him to come home. He hated LA, but he was safer there.”

“Oh, now.” That was the truth, but there wasn’t a reason for her to feel guilty. “He’s happy to help.”

“I know. He loves those horses. He’s a cowboy.” Ellen’s lips quivered, but then she pressed them together. “Is that spaghetti okay?”

“Okay? Oh, this is so much better than my mom’s.” Win paused. “Just don’t tell her that.”

“I promise.” Ellen winked. “I would never upset another mother.”

“Thanks.” His mom was the best at everything… except cooking.

“Okay. I’m going to go clean my kitchen. Are you….” She grinned. “Do you think I should come check on him tonight?”

“I’ll stay.” His cheeks heated like he was talking about having sex with her son, which was so not the idea tonight.

“Okay. I’ve hired Bobby Christian to feed tomorrow. He can rest.”

“Thanks. I’ll tell him.” Win had hugged her earlier today, so he felt daring doing it again, but she looked like she needed it.

“You’re a good boy, Adam.” She leaned against him a second.

“I try.” He had his demons. Maybe that was why he understood Sage better than most folks. He woke up in a cold sweat a lot of nights, the whole combat arena close and fresh.

She kissed his cheek and headed out, leaving him standing in Sage’s front room like a newborn fool. Win turned in a circle, not sure what to do next. Maybe he’d take a shower.

He heard footsteps, and then Sage showed up, naked and blinking at him. “Adam? I thought I heard you.”

“Hey, babe.” The damned bruises looked so lurid, so devastating in the hall light. “I was pondering whether to do dishes or wash me.”

“I can do the dishes, man.”

Uh-huh. Right.
Sage couldn’t hardly walk and was teetering back and forth. “Nah. You need to sit. We can watch a movie if you want.”

“I’d like that.” Sage headed into the front room, stepping so careful, so gentle.

Win took a moment to go get the extra pillows and blankets Wilma and Bulldog had brought. He’d prop Sage up good. Sage settled, staring as Win covered him. “Lord, I was naked.”

“Mmmhmm. Your mom was gone.”

“She done seen it all. She’d tell you she made it.”

“Well, she’s right.” That didn’t mean Win would want to walk around naked in front of his mom.

Sage chuckled, the sound sore. “Lord, I have made trouble for everyone.”

“Hey, you’re worth every bit.” Win curled up close but didn’t lean.

Sage moved, pushed into his side. Win felt tall as a mountain, just from that tiny gesture. Sage trusted him. How fucking amazing was that?

He shifted slightly until Sage’s head was on his shoulder. “You good, babe?”

“I am. I really appreciate you coming.”

He grabbed the remote and started the movie.
Die Hard.
Huh. So not how being a cop worked, but it was fun to watch.

It was fascinating, though, how Sage’s movies were all from when they were younger. He wondered if Sage listened to music, and if that would be the same. It was like Sage had sort of stopped aging when he went in.

That made sense, huh? The thoughts spun around and around in Win’s head, making it hurt a little.

“Why did you get such a hard-core sentence, honey?” Wait. Wait, had he asked that out loud? That was nosy as all hell, and rude, too, with prison being such a hard subject.

Sage sighed. “They told me that they’d go for murder one if I didn’t. There’s no parole for that.”

“Shit. I know you didn’t kill anyone.” Deep in his bones, Win was sure Sage was no killer. Win knew he could have requested Sage’s records and read them, but that seemed like a huge intrusion.