Aldo was ready for his own happy.

“Heard you had some excitement last week,” Aldo pressed, slowing his pace a touch to conversational speed.

Ty was in good shape, just not quite Moretta good shape.

“Finally got to put that asshole behind bars,” Ty said cheerfully. “Must have been good news to you.” Aldo didn’t have to see beneath his friend’s sunglasses to know the man was looking at him.

“About damn time.”

“Seems I recall you and Diller going head to head a time or two right after high school,” Ty mused. Folks in Benevolence called it fishing.

Aldo’s hands closed into fists at the memory. “We were just kids then,” he answered vaguely.

“And I seem to recall you getting piss-faced drunk after one shoving match,” Ty reminded him.

“Nothing wrong with your memory,” Aldo quipped, picking up the pace. He hid a grin as Ty’s wheezing instantly increased while he fought to keep up.

“Come on, man. Don’t turn on the afterburners.”

“Give me one good reason.”

“He’s not gettin’ out.”

Aldo stopped, and Ty smacked right into him. “Jesus, how do you do this without water?” Ty gasped, twisting open the mangled water bottle he carried. He guzzled deeply and handed it over to Aldo.

Aldo drank and waited for Ty to get to the fucking point.

“Anyway, as I was saying. Diller’s not sliding on this. He attacked another woman, and she’s fired up enough to press charges. Doc’s testifying. Our boy Luke’s a witness.”

Aldo swallowed hard and forced his fingers to relax on the bottle.

“Gloria’s charging him, too,” Ty continued. “Turns out she’s got photos of every beating for the past few years.”

The water bottle didn’t stand a chance. Water gushed over his fingers, cramped in a death grip on the plastic. Every beating for the past few years…

Where the fuck had he been? Why hadn’t he stopped it?

“Aw, man. No need to be wasteful,” thirsty Ty mourned.

“How is she?” Aldo asked, his voice ragged.

Ty clapped a hand on his shoulder. They’d never talked about Aldo’s feelings for Gloria. Hell, no one really knew there were any feelings. But Ty was sharper than his southern drawl let on. “She’s good. Real good. Stopped in to see her yesterday. Glenn won’t make bail. His mama’s got nothing to put up for him, and the judge wasn’t feeling very friendly towards him on account of him calling her a stupid bitch at his arraignment. So unless he can cough up $200,000, he’s gonna rot in a cell until his trial.”

“Fucker,” Aldo swore quietly.

“Gloria’s good, though. This time is different,” Ty predicted.

Aldo hoped to all that was fucking good and right in this world that his friend was correct. Neither he nor Gloria could survive another round.

* * *