Chapter Twenty-Four

QUINCY WAS LYING in a bed in the emergency room with two broken ribs—and a broken heart that hurt worse than any broken bone ever could—wondering how the hell his life got so fucked up, when Truman strode through the curtain, jaw tight, eyes blazing with anger and disappointment, cutting Quincy to his core.

Truman’s eyes narrowed as he hulked over the bed, getting right in Quincy’s face, teeth gritted, as he said, “How many times, Quincy? How many times are you going to try to off yourself and put us through this? Thank God for fucking Narcan.” Narcan was the medication the EMTs gave Quincy to counteract the life-threatening effects of the overdose. “Do you have any idea what Roni is going through right now?” Truman thrust his arm out, pointing in the direction he’d come. “She’s out there bawling her eyes out, trying to convince everyone that you didn’t do this. I love you, man, but what the hell? You nearly died.”

Narcan had not only saved his life, it had also left him clearheaded enough to know that while Roni might be championing for him now, that would soon change. “I didn’t fucking do it,” Quincy seethed.

Truman cocked his head.

“Did you notice my truck wasn’t there? Do you really think I’d fuck up Roni’s life? I love her, man. Do you think I’d do that to you again? To Gemma? To the kids? To everyone in our fucking lives?” He pushed up to a sitting position, wincing with pain, and grabbed his ribs.

“I didn’t want to believe it, but we’ve been here before. You still had the fucking rubber around your arm.” Truman’s eyes filled with tears.

“I didn’t do it, Tru. Puck and five of his goons dragged my ass out of my truck at a stoplight when I was on my way to see Simone. Puck did this. He tried to make me look like just another junkie who overdosed so he wouldn’t get caught. He was sending a message to the Dark Knights saying back off or Simone is next. I swear to God. I love you, man, and the last thing I would ever do is put you through this again.” His eyes filled with tears, and he didn’t care, because he was so fucking sad and mad, he was going to lose his mind. “They drove me to some god-awful place and knocked me around. Then they threw me in the car, shot me up with heroin, and tossed me out the door in front of Whiskey Bro’s. The police told me I made it 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.”