Like a tidal wave, ideas for classes flooded my brain as I assessed the equipment. Excitement started to boil in the pit of my stomach, and I tried to tamp it down, but looking around this room, taking everything in, it was damn hard not to get passionate.

Maybe Jett was right. Maybe I could show everyone second chances were possible. Maybe I could have a positive influence on the kids who walked through the doors of this facility. I could only hope my demons didn’t eat me alive while I tried to find a new place in this world.

Chapter Ten

My past…

Rain pounded on my windshield while I tried to decipher who was in the row of black standing about one hundred feet away. I wasn’t ready to step out of my car yet. I wasn’t ready to see who I’d ruined.

I hadn’t been able to sleep the past four nights, not since blinding rage had taken over my body and I’d found myself leaning over a bloody and breathless Marshall Duncan. The image of his lifeless body had yet to escape my memory. There were many times I’d decided to turn myself in, but Jett had stopped me. His need to keep me in his life, to help him with his club and be the one solid person in his life, had me reneging on my idea, but fuck if the decision didn’t make me feel guilty as hell.

I had yet to face the family, to see what they looked like, who they were, to see the grief-stricken looks on their faces. Seeing them was the last thing I wanted to do, but I felt like it was a punishment I deserved. I had to see whose life I’d destroyed by taking a loved one away from them. I needed to see their pain, feel their pain. I wanted to be tortured.

The day after the bar fight, I’d started collecting every article about Marshall’s death and read them to myself on repeat at night as I burned the words into my memory. To someone on the outside, my collection of articles might have seemed like a psychopathic action, but to me, it was the act of a broken man. I made sure to remind myself every chance I got what a horrible person I was. I wanted to make sure it was quite clear in my brain I was a murderer, a machine who didn’t think but reacted on emotion. I thought losing my boxing license had been difficult, but I hadn’t known what difficult was because right here and now, sitting in my car and watching over the crowd dressed in black surrounding one single person was the hardest fucking thing I’d ever done.

The rain let up slightly, making it easier to see out my front windshield. Above-ground gravestones scattered the land in front of me and surrounded the group of friends and family who’d shown up to bid their soulful farewells to Marshall Duncan.

“Are you going out there?” Jett interrupted my thoughts.

“Yes,” I replied, my voice completely devoid of emotion.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I do. I need to see them.”

“Why?” Jett asked, frustration lacing his voice. “You can barely hold yourself together right now. Why do you think this is going to make it better?”

“I don’t think it’s going to make it better. It’s going to show me everything I took away. I need to see his family, see how I affected their lives. I can’t be a selfish bastard who hides in your club. I need to know exactly what the ramifications were that came from my decision.”

“He is just as much to blame for what happened as you are,” Jett replied.

“No. Don’t go fucking blaming him.”

“Kace, he punched you twice. He was asking for a right hook. You can’t take the blame for all this.”

“Yes I can,” I practically spat back at him. “I’m a trained fighter. I know my limits. I know how to handle the adrenaline surge that runs through me when I’m provoked, and that night, I chose to ignore it. I should have walked away. I should have turned my back, but instead I chose to engage. I chose to let my anger loose on a man who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“How can you say that?” Jett argued. “He went out of his way to approach you, to aggravate you, to make it impossible for you not to get upset. It’s his fucking fault!”

“Enough!” I shouted. “I’m not going to go through this with you again. If you want me to stick around, you need to just accept the fact that when Marshall Duncan died, I died with him. I will be here for you, Jett, and I will help you with your club, but I refuse to hide behind excuses to make myself feel better. I killed a man. I ran away from his dead body, and I’m living a life I don’t deserve. From this day moving forward, I have no life. I don’t deserve to be happy, and I will go out of my way to make sure I keep it that way.”

Without allowing Jett to utter another word, I got out of the car, pulled the hood of my black leather jacket over my head, and headed toward the huddled mourners.

A priest was speaking solemnly when I walked up to the group, sticking to the back so I wasn’t noticed. I didn’t want any trouble. I just wanted the soul-crushing punishment of looking in the eyes of the woman I had ruined.

“Marshall was a well-respected businessman, a beloved husband, and a cherished father. He left us too early in this world, but we will cherish the moments we had with him and hold them in our hearts for eternity.”

My gut twisted from the priest’s words.

Cherished father… fuck.

I looked at the wet grass, watching the drops of rain fall off my nose and onto the ground. How did a man move on from something like this? How did he face life every day, knowing he’d taken the breath away from another man? Was such a feat even possible?

 “The family will now place a rose on the casket while Marshall’s sister plays ‘Remember Me’ on the guitar.”

The light strum of a guitar filled the air, overlaying from the sad sound of rain pelting the wood of the casket. I stepped to the side for a better view and trained my eyes on the casket, waiting to see Marshall’s family.

A hand gripped my shoulder, and I didn’t have to turn to know it was Jett. He might not have agreed with what I was doing or approved my choices concerning this matter, but I knew he supported me. He always would.

“Kace….”

I shook my head and pulled away slightly. He wanted me to leave, but I couldn’t. I needed to see his family.

Just as Jett tried to pull at my shoulder again, I tugged free and saw someone I could only assume was Marshall’s wife step up to the casket, holding a single rose in her hand. She was holding the hand of a little girl with bright blonde curls poking out from her hood.

Everything in my body went numb as realization hit me. She would grow up without a father. She wouldn’t have someone to take to the daddy/daughter dances. She wouldn’t have a man to watch over her when she started dating. She wouldn’t have someone to walk her down the aisle on her wedding day.

I’d taken that away from her. I’d taken away her father.

The wife turned toward me after she placed the flower on the casket and held on to her daughter. For a brief instant, her eyes met mine, and I was able to see the hole in her heart I’d put there. I was able to see the pain I’d caused, the uprooting I’d forced upon her.

It was too much.

My heart beat out of my chest and my breathing became erratic. Without turning to Jett, I said, “Get me out of here.”

His strong hand took  hold of my shoulder, and he guided me back to the car, not saying a word. There was nothing to say. I was an animal.

I would never forgive myself.

Chapter Eleven

My present…

“Where do you want these thongs?” Tootse called, drawing me from my thoughts. I looked up at the blondest women I’d ever met, carrying an abnormally large box and about ready to tip over from its size.

I rushed over to help and grabbed the box from her so she didn’t end up face-first into the wall.