Free FLOWERS and CAGES by Mary J. Williams Page B

a bite. Dalton Shaw and Colleen McNamara. The perfect temporary match.
     
    WAITING WAS NOT Dalton's strong suit. Patience—as his cellmate tried to teach him all those years ago—was called a virtue for a reason. Some of Silas Freed's lessons stuck. That one hadn't. Silas, bless his philosophical heart, hadn't let it bother him. He was a lifer. At sixty-five, prison was all he knew. More time in than out, he did his best to get Dalton to the finish line without any permanent damage.
    The outside world waited for his protégé. Silas considered it his job to make certain Dalton didn't stumble along the way.
    Dalton recalled a conversation he and Silas had one night after lockdown. It was a week after his arrival.
    "Prison," Silas had told him, "doesn't rehabilitate. It hardens the soul."
    "Your soul seems just fine."
    "I struggled for a long time. Anger led to bitterness then back to anger. I got in fights. Spent a lot of time in solitary. A life devoid of hope is a useless thing. Eventually, I came to the realization that the world outside these walls was moving on without me."
    Dalton's stomach had clenched at the thought. "That sounds damn hopeless to me."
    "You're young. When you leave, if I've done my job, you will carry my hope with you."
    "Shit, Silas. That's sounds like a lot of responsibility."
    "It is." The older man's voice drifted toward sleep. "How you live your life—it's a choice. The books I've given you to read will fill your head with ideas. What you do with them is up to you."
    There were times when it seemed like yesterday. Dalton visited Silas once, letting him know what he was doing—how he was living his life. The look of approval had meant the world. Silas died two months later. Heart attack. It was quick—the way he would have wanted to go.
    Dalton gave back whenever possible. Tried to be kind. Didn't suffer fools easily. But most of all, he lived each day knowing it was a gift. He hoped the old man would be proud.
    With a sigh, Dalton checked his phone for the tenth time, then debated his next move.
    It became clear that Norris had no intention of ending this farce in a timely manner. One fucking phone call. That was all Dalton asked. They could set up a meeting and hash out what he hoped—but seriously doubted—was nothing more than a misunderstanding. It was difficult to accidentally give an interview. And if, as Maggie led him to believe, there were more stories to come, Norris knew exactly what he was doing. The bridge wasn't about to burn. His brother-in-law had set the explosives. One more move and boom! Obliteration.
    Giving Maggie another call, Dalton growled when it went straight to voicemail.
    "Fuck it."
    Dalton shoved Silas' call for patience out of his head. His sister and her husband were playing a game without sharing the rules. Not only wasn't it fair, but it was also stupid. Poke the bear at your own risk. Dalton wasn't as volatile as in his youth. It took a good amount of prodding to set him off. It gave the foolish a false sense of security. Eventually, Dalton lowered the boom. And when it happened, it happened fast.
    "Tell Norris he had his chance, Maggie. When he aligned himself with that gossip rag, he signed away his soul. I hope the amount was worth it. You are now officially cut off."
    Tossing his phone onto the passenger seat, Dalton waited for the first wave of guilt. And waited. And waited. Well, what do you know ? Starting the car, he adjusted the vent until a blast of cold air rushed over his face. Was it that easy to give up a habit that had plagued him most of his life? Protecting his little sister from her self-inflicted mistakes. Wasn't that what brothers did?
    The problem was, Dalton had a daily reminder that was hard for anyone to live up to. Ryder and Zoe Hart. That was how the brother and sister thing should be done. Not perfect by any means. But honest. Loving. Supportive.
    Dalton knew it wasn't over with Maggie. It never would be. But he was finished