She nodded, brows knitted, and folded her hands in her lap, sitting up straighter as she said, “Okay, well, let’s unpack that baggage and find out.”

His chest constricted, and he took another deep breath, wanting to remember exactly the way she looked right then: strong, beautiful, and willing to listen. It took everything he had to begin telling the rest of his story. “The night I killed that man, Truman found me huddled on the living room floor, my clothes bloody, my cheek torn open. The man was still lying on my mother. She’d come to by then and was screaming and crying, but I was paralyzed with fear and in shock.” A lump lodged in his throat, memories pummeling him. “Before Tru even moved that man’s body off our mother, he came to me. He dropped to his knees and pulled me into his arms. I’ve never felt so helpless or lost in all my life as I did in the time between when it happened and when Truman walked in. But with him there, I felt safer. I knew he’d know what to do.”

He took a drink, needing a second, and said, “When Tru heard the screams, he thought he’d find me dead. He was so scared, checking my body for bullet holes.” Quincy pushed to his feet and paced, rubbing his hand over his chest and stomach as Truman had done that night. “Once he saw that I wasn’t in danger, he moved the body and calmed my mother down. She passed out again, and I told him everything. I’ll never forget what he said right before he called the police. ‘Don’t say a word, Quincy. You’re not taking the fall for this.’ I argued with him, but he was worried that at thirteen I’d be tried as an adult. I’d followed his lead my whole life, and I went along with it. I never should have, but he was my guiding light. Protecting me was what he did best.”

Her jaw dropped, tears welling again. “He took the blame?”

Quincy nodded, lowering his eyes, shame and guilt twining together like a noose. “The public defender said he wouldn’t go to prison. He called it a ‘heat of passion’ murder. But our mother got clean long enough to spew lies on the witness stand. She’d always had it out for Truman. She said she wasn’t in any danger, and Truman was charged with murder.” Tears spilled down Roni’s cheeks, sending that spear of guilt deeper into his chest.

“Oh my God, Quincy. Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know. Probably because Truman having his shit together brought all her failures to the forefront. He served six years of an eight-year prison sentence for a crime I committed.”

She shook her head. “I can’t believe your mother did that.”

“She was a real piece of work.” He paced, wringing his hands. “Everything changed after Tru went to prison. I was a kid, completely lost. I was consumed with guilt, and I had no direction, no plan to follow. Bear took me to see Tru a couple of times, and man, that devastated me even more. I had put the brother who spent his life protecting me behind bars. I should have been the one in prison, not him.” His voice cracked, and he tried to swallow past his thickening throat. “Every time I thought about it, I got paralyzed just like that awful day. I despised my mother, but I think I hated myself even more.”