surge and release of adrenaline in a firefight, and he’d learned how to channel his darkness and violence into the work that needed doing. He’d found his calling as an enforcer. Sometimes he’d gone too far, but even so, he felt more a master of his impulses than he had before.
He’d been arrested a few times, and he’d done a couple of bids, but they were short enough. If his childhood had prepared him for nothing else, it had prepared him to survive prison. Even to thrive there.
Then, at Blue’s funeral, Hoosier had asked him to come home. And Demon had humiliated himself by breaking down into tears.
So he was home. He had a home. And a son. People who loved him and wanted him. And with no outlet for the crap in his head, he was losing control of his darkness again.
Tucker looked up as Demon came into the room. “Pa! Bwain!” He held out a little blue train engine.
“ T-T-Train , buddy. T like in Tucker.” He squatted at his son’s side.
“Tuh-bwain.”
Demon laughed. “Close enough. Did you have fun with Gramps?”
Tucker nodded and held out a shiny new engine, this one kind of purple.
“You got a new one! Who’s this?” It had a vaguely female face. All Tucker’s engines had faces.
“Bwain!”
“Deme. You doin’ okay?”
Demon looked up and saw Hoosier eyeing him over the back of the sectional. So Hoosier knew that Faith was in town. It made sense; Bibi would probably have told him as soon as he was back. He ruffled Tucker’s hair and stood up.
“Have you been in touch with her all this time?” The words came out more sharply than he’d meant them. He didn’t want to accuse Hoosier and Bibi of anything. There were probably dozens of good reasons not to tell him they knew where she was. He wasn’t sure even now how much he trusted himself to know.
“Have a seat, brother.” Hoosier waved at the side of the sectional, and Demon went around and sat down. “Beebs’s kept up with her, yeah. Until today, I hadn’t seen her since she ran.”
“She’s been good?”
Hoosier heaved a sigh. “Yeah. I guess she actually earns making her weird, rusty art. Remember that sh—stuff she used to make?”
That thought made Demon smile and feel a little proud. He remembered climbing around with her at the salvage yard. She’d been so cute and enthusiastic. He’d kissed her that day. It had been her first kiss ever. His, too, in a way.
He closed his eyes and counted five beats. Muse had taught him that, to focus on his heartbeat until the hurt that made red edge his vision backed off. Sometimes he needed a lot more than five beats.
“Why’s she back?”
“There’s something goin’ on with her mom. Any more is for her to say.”
Not for him, then. Of course she wouldn’t have been, but there’d been a little flickering light in the back of his head that had thought maybe she’d come because she couldn’t stay away.
“You mind some advice, Deme?”
He shrugged, and Hoosier took that for permission.
“It all went down bad back in the day. You fucked up bad. But you were a kid, younger than your years. I knew it. Most everybody did. Even Blue, deep down, knew you were just a kid, too. He couldn’t see anything but his little girl, the one who ran around with scraped knees and ratty pigtails stealing sips from beer bottles and getting caught swiping loose parts off worktables. He’d never’ve admitted it, but when it all fell out, I think even he knew it was more for you than just claiming his little girl’s cherry.”
Demon flinched at the rawness of Hoosier’s last statement. “Don’t, Prez.”
“I’m telling you something that might help, so listen. It don’t matter what Blue thought. Not anymore. He’s dead and buried. And you are no kid anymore. Neither is she. I’ve seen you both today, and you both look like somebody ran over your best dog. Now, you both