Boondocks

Chapter 41: Gone

WILLOW

Acceptance wasn't something I was capable of when it came to letting them go. Acceptance meant consent, and if I'd learned anything at all from Croc, it was that consent couldn't be given under duress. But resignation, that was something entirely different. I could give them that. I could concede my defeat, give up my opposition, know when I'd been outvoted.

So, I resigned, and I made the most of what little time I had left. We danced across the deck like we had that long ago night in the bayou, only slower this time, as if by doing so we could slow time itself. I held him through the night, memorizing the feel of his arms, the sound of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest. We had breakfast as a family, then we gave them one final lesson in the water, reminding me so much of those long, blissful days in the canal.

And as the sun began to set like the last few grains of sand in an hourglass, I left to find Merle.

He was below deck in the barracks, packing a bag full of dynamite. It seemed like a lifetime ago since I'd stepped into his garage and found him doing the same. Only, instead of dynamite, he'd been packing supplies, and instead of running toward, he'd been running away. He'd seemed insane to me then too, but now. . . I'd gotten him back only to lose him again.

He looked up when I entered. "Little Bit." He set the bag down and stood, closing the divide between us in long strides.

I'd been mentally preparing for this moment, determined not to cry. But the second his arms came around me, all my reserve shattered into dust. I gripped him tight, sobbing into his chest, gasping in the scent of leather and gunpowder.

"Shh. . ." Merle rubbed his big hand over my hair, his hold secure, like a father comforting his child.

I sucked in a breath, swallowed convulsively. Time was running out, and I couldn't make the same mistake with him that I had Julia. If this were the last time I'd ever see him, I was going to make damn sure he knew exactly what he meant to me.

I pulled back just enough to see his face. For the first time since I'd met him, he looked his age. Dark circles hung beneath his sunken eyes. His face was more haggard, his lines deepened. Julia's death had taken its toll on all of us, but no one as much as Merle.

"You were the first man I ever loved," I said, forcing the words past the knot in my throat. "The first man who didn't use me. You're—" I swallowed again, took another breath. "—You're my father, Merle. Blood or no blood. You're the closest thing to a father I've ever had, and I wouldn't trade you. Not for anything."

His eyes went glassy, and his lips pursed. Then he laughed and wiped his face. "Well, Hell, Little Bit, is that all?"

I grinned through my tears. "That's all."

He laughed again, then he kissed my temple and pulled me into another crushing hug. "I'm honored." His voice was hoarse. "Just as soon as I'm done fucking the government, I'll teach you how to ride a goddamn bicycle."

I barked a laugh, then he let me go, his expression warm yet broken. "Take care of my grandbabies, will you?"

My heart squeezed, and I nodded. "I will."

"And stop acting like I'm gonna die!" He snatched up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "They ain't managed to kill me yet; I'm not about to start letting them now."

A knock sounded, pulling both of our attentions to the bottom of the steps. Croc stood there, his expression grim. "Reggie says it's time to go."

I eyed the kitchen knives belted around his waist, feeling as if each one of them was slowly sinking into my heart. We'd already said our goodbyes. We'd used up all our time. I didn't want them to leave. I couldn't survive in this world without them.