But he just leans back on the steps with both elbows. “Take it from another man who came out of a bullshit situation. Some of us do what you do and try to improve ourselves—you know, serve the greater good. And some of us vow we ain’t never going to be put in that position again.”

“Ant and me—we’re not so different. Yeah, he went to juvie. But then, he decided he was never going to be powerless again. I did the same thing after I got out the army. And Ant didn’t just join a gang. He started one like Hades and me. And believe me, you don't start running criminal organizations because you're interested in living a nice, normal life like you’re wishing for him and letting some big boss tell you what to do all the time. So, you can let that guilt you’re carrying go. Ant would've become Ant no matter what you did. You telling me that story actually makes me more confident about working with him.”

“What?” I start to sputter. “That’s not what you should’ve gotten out of that story at all.”

Waylon shrugs again. “You’re the should’ve person. I’m the guy who listens to that story and sees the girl who was damn right to stab that fucker. I see the woman in the church who finally listened to what her heart and gut was telling her about the douche she was about to marry. I’m the guy who trusts his gut. I can teach you how to trust yours. If you’re willing, I got more lessons waiting for you. You know why?”

My heart trembles at his question.

“Why?” I ask because I really don’t know.

He looks over at me with a lazy smile. “Because I like that heart you got. I like that gut instinct to stab and hit, so you don’t ever feel helpless. Them other guys who tried it with you before me should be happy you don’t carry several guns like I do. And you know what? I like that you trashed Charlie’s store because you were pissed off about a naked woman answering your man’s door. I like all that crazy you’ve been trying to hide. And am wondering if there’s more where that came from. Because I think there is. But you know, as touching as this afterschool special we just made has been, it’s not the main point of this conversation.”

I stare at him. And stare at him some more. My brain crashing and rebooting and crashing several times again at his version of logic.

But then I have to ask, “Okay, what exactly do you think is the main point of all of this?”