He was already panting, gaze darting around the restaurant, searching for the threat.
“Everything’s fine.” West unfolded an inch at a time in an effort not to spook him and gently rubbed his nape. “You’re safe, man. You’re safe.”
Safe? Was he? The prickling at the back of his neck had returned.
When he realized people were staring at him with strange looks on their faces, he squared his shoulders and reclaimed his seat, setting down the knife. He pushed his food away, no longer in the mood to eat, and though his friends tried to return to their previous conversation, the laid-back solidarity of before was gone, the tension and guilt back.
West finally released a bitter laugh. “There’s no good time to bring this up, so I’m just going to do it now. As you probably know, the anniversary of Tessa getting her GED is coming up.”
And her death.
Beck tensed. “We’ve still got a few months to go.”
“Yes, but what I want to do takes time and planning.” West caught a bead of condensation trickling down his water glass. “I plan to throw her a party. The one she always wanted. The one I promised her but never gave her. I would have done it already, but...”
But Jase hadn’t been around, and Tessa would have insisted on having him at any celebration in her honor. Another rock of guilt his friends still carried.
The lines of tension bracketing Beck’s eyes softened. He gently asked, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Tessa’s death wasn’t your fault,” Jase said. “You don’t have to sentence yourself to life without the possibility of happiness, clinging to her memory.”
“Her death is my fault,” West said. “A life sentence is far less than I deserve.”
“Her death has never been your fault.” Tessa had always been an up-and-down kind of girl, but her ordeal with Pax Gillis had shredded her. Months passed, but she’d never recovered emotionally. She’d cried every night, but she’d cried especially hard the night she’d died, and Jase often wondered if she’d lost control of the car, as the police report had claimed, or if she’d intentionally crashed.
The Gillis family had been hounding her, blaming her for Jase’s actions. If she hadn’t lied about the assault, they’d said, Jase wouldn’t have come after their son.
“You weren’t there,” West snapped. “You don’t know.”
“No,” he replied quietly. “I wasn’t there.” I was rotting behind bars.
The Gillis family had protested every time he’d come up for parole, which was another reason he’d remained behind bars as long as he had. But then, last year, Pax’s dad had died of a heart attack, leaving only the mother and the little brother. Jase remembered them from the trial. A small, slender woman who’d never stopped sobbing and a punk kid with a Mohawk, who’d had more piercings and tattoos than Jase.
West closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”
“Forget about it.” But Jase knew he wouldn’t. He never did. “I have.”
“I feel like I’m living Moore’s Law,” West muttered.
“Uh, you’re smarter than the rest of the class, bro,” Beck said. “You’ll have to explain that one.”
West shrugged. “Over the history of computing hardware, the number of transistors in a dense integrated circuit doubles approximately every two years. In other words, my brain is the hardware and my memories grow stronger as time passes.”
That made two of them. “Why don’t I ask Brook Lynn to help us with the planning?” Jase said, getting them back on track.
“Good idea,” Beck said. “Since she’s working for us and all.”
Jase swallowed a protest. She’s mine, not ours.
West rubbed two fingers over his jaw. “I’ve been meaning to ask... Are you sure it’s smart to have the little blonde firecracker hanging around the house all the time?”
No. “Why?”
“Why?” Beck arched a brow. “Did you really just ask me why? Dude. You nailed her sister.”
“So?” Don’t like the reminder. “You did, too.”
“So you both admit to being idiots. May we move on?” West grumbled, a surprising amount of frustration in his voice.
“Exactly,” Beck said, speaking over him. “The situation is complicated. And yes, I can roll with it. But can you? I’ve seen you, man. And I can’t believe I’m having to point this out yet again, but you watch Brook Lynn like you’re drowning, and she’s the only life raft.”
“You must be going blind,” Jase ground out. “I have never looked at anyone that way.”
“My eyes, like every other part of me, are working just fine, thanks. But if it’s the analogy that bothers you, I can give you a more palatable one. You look at that girl the way I look at her casseroles. As if there’s about to be a party in your mouth.”
West pushed his plate of leftover fries away. “I told you guys what would happen if you messed around with a Strawberry Valley girl. I told you, but you did it anyway. You’ve got no one to blame but yourselves.”
Beck flipped him off, and Jase threw a wadded-up napkin at him.
West held up his hands, all innocence. “Hey, we’ve all agreed I’m the smart one in our little band of brothers. Why the attitude now?”