as far as Jed’s driveway. I don’t remember how I got there. The only thing in my head was that I needed to get to Roni to make sure she was safe.” He swiped at his eyes. “Two years and forty-nine days clean down the drain because of one fucking asshole.”
Truman’s nose flared, his teeth clenched, and the muscles in his neck and arms bulging as his hands fisted. “I’ll fucking kill him.”
“No, you won’t. You’re not going to prison, Tru—not for me or anyone else. Puck is. I was recording a video message for Roni when I saw him and his guys get out of their cars in front and behind me and come up on my truck. I left the recording going and stuck the phone in my pocket. That’s why I had the doc call the cops. Now they’ve got evidence.”
“He’ll come after you again, Quincy. That’s not going to put him away long enough.”
“No, but a murder charge will.” Quincy gritted his teeth, closing his eyes against the burn of tears. “When he was roughing me up, he admitted to killing the guy who was driving the car that hit Roni. Remember when I came to you to borrow money and you sent me away? The next day, his guys found me. I got away, but they chased after me. I heard shots, but I never looked back. I just kept hauling ass.” He swallowed the bile burning his throat, remembering the montage of pictures of Roni in the hospital and her long, hard road to recovery. “He said that bullet was meant for me, Tru. Roni lost her career because I was a goddamn addict. How the hell am I going to tell her that?” He looked away, ashamed and gutted.
Truman sat on the edge of the bed and tugged him into an embrace.
“You didn’t pull the trigger,” Truman said sternly. “You didn’t fucking do it, Quincy. You don’t even know if he was telling the truth. He’s been watching you, and Roni went to those NA meetings. He probably saw her there and got the dirt on her.”
“I think he had eyes on me the whole time I’ve been helping Simone. He definitely knew about me and Roni and her accident. That’s why he told me. It crossed my mind that he could have lied, but the cops called the detective who had worked the case and confirmed that Roni’s accident was September nineteenth, two years ago. You found the kids September fifteenth two years ago, and—”
“You came asking for money three days later, September eighteenth.”
“They found me the next day. The timeline matches no matter how much I wish it didn’t. It’s my fault, Tru. Any way you cut it, if I hadn’t been there, she’d be living her dream, dancing professionally, and not out there crying over my sorry ass.”
Truman took him by the shoulders, leveling him with a dark stare. “You listen to me. You’re not a sorry ass. You’ve been through hell and back, and you not only found your way out of it, but you became one of the best, most loyal and honest men I know, and Roni knows that, too. I will tell her with you, and we will get through this together. She loves you, man. You had that fucking tubing around your arm, and she still refused to believe you used again. She loves you so damn much. Don’t let this send you back to the dark places that swallowed you whole before. You don’t deserve that.”
His throat constricted. “I’m not going to use again. I’m going back to rehab for thirty days. I’ve already made the call, and I also spoke to my boss at the bookstore. She knows I’ve been in recovery, and she’ll hold my job for me. I’d appreciate it if you could let me say goodbye to the kids tonight and give me a ride to the rehab center. A month should be enough time for me to get my shit under control and for you to help Roni get her stuff back into her place, so she can move on.” He clenched his jaw as more tears came. He swiped angrily at them. “She doesn’t need me and my shit in her life. She’ll never be able to look at me again after I tell her.”
“You don’t know that,” Truman said, looking as pained as Quincy felt.
“Yes, I do, and I appreciate the offer to tell her with me,