She looked up through teary eyes and said, “But you didn’t, right? That’s when you got clean? When Truman came?”

He shook his head, feeling like his heart was being ripped from his chest. “No. That’s when it got worse, because shit got real. I was furious at Truman for going to prison. I was a stupid kid for all those years. I felt like he’d abandoned me. As soon as I got clean, I knew it made no sense. I twisted things around in my drug-infested head and made him into the bad guy. Him. The guy who fucking raised me and gave up his freedom for me. It’s messed up, I know, but it’s the truth. He was as disgusted with me as I was with myself. He took the kids, and I got into trouble with some really dangerous people. A few days later, I showed up at his apartment stoned out of my mind, asking to borrow money so I could pay off my debt. He lived above Whiskey’s Auto, where I live now. But he did the right thing and sent me away. I went back over the bridge, away from Peaceful Harbor, to the hellhole where I’d spent the last six and a half years, and tried to hide from the dealer. But his guys found me and dragged me back to him. There was all sorts of shit going on—a dozen or more guys were there. They started arguing with each other, and I saw a chance, so I took off running. They came after me, but I got away. I have no idea how long I ran or how I evaded them. It was a nightmare, followed by weeks of hiding out, terrified. Eventually they caught up with me again, beat the hell out of me, and left me for dead. I don’t know how I survived that or walking miles back over the bridge to the auto shop. I don’t remember most of that night. I thought that was the end, that I’d die and the torture I caused everyone would finally be over. But I guess I passed out in front of the shop, because that’s where Tru found me, and when I woke up, I was in the hospital, and he was right there with me.”

Roni inhaled shakily, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Thank God he found you.”

He nodded. “The first thing I asked was if I was alive. It’s a strange question, but I really thought I’d died that night, and when he said barely, I thanked God, and I thanked Tru. He asked if I was sure I wanted to be alive, because I was doing everything within my power to kill myself. When I didn’t answer, he leaned over me in the hospital bed, looking directly into my eyes, and said he wasn’t ready to lose me.”

Quincy looked up at the ceiling again, blinking against tears. “After all I’d put him and the kids through, he wasn’t done with me. For all those years I thought he’d hated me as much as I hated myself. But he still loved me. Talk about a second chance. That’s when I saw the light and agreed to go to rehab, which was another kind of hell. I had to deal with all those feelings that had drowned me for so long. Tru came to see me as soon as they allowed him to, and I gave him shit, blamed him for my drug use. That’s all part of the process, and it sucked. But he never gave up on me. He was still the guiding light he’d always been. And after rehab and with the help of therapy, I turned a corner, and once I did, I saw the devastation I had caused. I’ll never get over what I put Tru and the kids through. What I put Gemma through, and all our friends who were there for them when I was on drugs.”