“My family must seem so different to you,” he said.
“They’re wonderful.” Dan could keep his billions. She cared nothing for money. His family, however?
That was definitely something she envied.
“They’re hardly perfect, Jazz. If Grand were a big city, my father and grandfather would be slum lords. They’ll pinch a penny until it begs for mercy. My sisters are jealous of each other. They show up at family events to see which one of them has gained the most weight and whose kids are doing better in school. And, in case you’re wondering, they all hit me up for money on a regular basis. Thanks to those fancy sheriff school budgeting lessons though, I’ve learned how to say no.”
He really had no idea, although it was sweet that he thought he did. “How many family members have you bailed out of jail?” she asked.
“None, so far.” His eyes twinkled. “But you’ve met my nieces and nephews. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Have any of them ever shoplifted groceries to feed two younger brothers? Or buy Christmas and birthday presents for them?” It wasn’t something she was proud of, but it was either that or let Child and Family Services take the boys away. She knew other kids who’d been in and out of protective custody, and the stories they told had made her shoplifting worthwhile. And, truth be told, she’d gotten a bit of a rush from the danger involved. She’d liked the feeling, even back then. “What about sitting up all night with their mother so she doesn’t choke to death on her vomit?”
The twinkle in his eyes disappeared. “I get it. Your mother is a weak human being. On the other hand, you most definitely are not. And if you think I’d judge a little girl for doing what she had to in order to survive, then you’re insulting me. I care most about who you are right now, and from where I sit, you’re pretty remarkable.”
She was proud of the things she’d accomplished, but she wasn’t special. “Lots of people come from worse backgrounds than mine and do okay for themselves.”
“And lots of them fail. People come from better backgrounds than mine, too, and fall on their asses. Nine times out of ten, success is about the person. Some people need a break. Some people make their own.” Dan didn’t take his eyes off of hers. “You should talk to Ryan.”
“About success?”
“About his childhood. If he wants to tell you about it, he will. It’s not my story. But let’s just say, his makes yours look like a Disney movie.”
She swallowed, but the hard, painful lump in her throat didn’t budge. She didn’t need to talk to Ryan about whose childhood was shittier because it didn’t matter. She’d simply wanted Dan to understand why she should never have begun things with him in the first place.
She hated seeing him in that bed. She hated the fine lines of pain around his eyes and pinching his mouth. She hated that he might have died. But not as much as she hated the thought of him ever coming to hate her because she couldn’t shake off her family. She hadn’t been able to see them starve when she was a child and she couldn’t let them go hungry now that she was an adult. She didn’t have much to give them, but what she did give was all hers. It would stay that way, too.
“I’m not in competition with Ryan over who had it worse,” she said. Her voice came out raspy and wobbled a bit. “I’m here because I had to see for myself that you’re okay. But this isn’t working for me.” She tried to clear her throat and failed again. “I have a crew in a wildfire in California and I should be monitoring them, not here with you.” She shook her hand free of Dan’s and pried herself out of the ugly, uncomfortable hospital chair. She forced herself to stand straight and speak with a conviction she was far from feeling. “I don’t think we should see each other, anymore. If you need reports from the base between now and October, from now on you can get them from Eli.”
*
Ryan was onstandby, waiting in the main lobby to drive Jazz back to the base. She’d stopped in the ladies’ room first to have a good cry. If he had an opinion regarding her red eyes and blotchy skin, he kept it to himself.
They made the first half of the two-hour drive from Billings to Grand without speaking. Jazz burrowed into the Mercedes’ butter-yellow, soft leather seats and would have been happy to complete the entire trip the same way, but around the halfway mark, Ryan wanted to chat. It was creeping on toward four in the morning and the road ahead, a dark tunnel rimmed by off-ramp lighting, was mostly empty.
“Did Dan ever tell you how he, Dallie, and I became friends?” he asked, his eyes on the road. He didn’t wait for an answer. “We lived in the same residence our first year at Montana State. We took an economics class together and shared an assignment. Dan and Dallie were both small-town boys and I introduced them to city nightlife. I’d been running the streets for about nine years by that time and there’s always places to drink, no matter how old—or young—you are. Dan was already interested in law enforcement, although more from morbid curiosity, I think. He had a wild streak, a sense of adventure, steady nerves, and if he hadn’t had such a strong family base, could have gone either way. He was real protective of his friends. Dallie would try anything once. He just liked having fun.”
He cast a quick glance her way, checking to see if she was listening.
She was all ears.
“Dallie was easy to read,” he continued. “What you see is what you get. Dan was the challenge. I wanted to be friends with him so bad, but I didn’t trust him not to turn on me. So, when we were out drinking one night, I put him to the test. We’d had a few, but didn’t really have enough money on us to get drunk, and we were walking back to our residence because we didn’t have bus fare. We passed a convenience store. A cop had left his keys in his cruiser while he was inside the store, because who would steal a cop car, right?”
He shot her another look. She was still listening. And she could already see where this story was going.
“I hopped in the driver’s seat and told them both to get in. Dallie didn’t have to think twice. He was curious as to what would happen next. Dan, though… He didn’t approve. You could see it on his face. I slammed the door and would have driven off without him, and when he realized I was going to leave and take Dallie with me, he jumped in the back.”
The dashboard light caught the slight smile that the memory evoked.
“It didn’t take long for the police to set up a road block. I wasn’t interested in avoiding them, anyway. It wasn’t the first time I’d been arrested, but it was a first for Dallie and Dan, and I wanted to see how they’d deal with it. Who they’d blame.”
“Let me guess. They owned their share of it,” Jazz said. Ryan wasn’t the only reformed juvenile delinquent in the car. She’d run with kids like him and knew the value they placed on loyalty and trust. She valued those things, herself. And yet she didn’t believe he’d been a street kid by necessity—rather, he’d been one by choice.
What kind of person chose that kind of life?
He nodded. “They did. And the judge went easy on us because they were honest and had clean records. Dan kicked my ass for it, though. Then he told me I could screw up my own life if that’s what I wanted, but he and Dallie had plans for theirs and if I ever did something like that again, he’d cut me loose.” That smile flashed again, brighter this time. “He didn’t care all that much about me stealing the cruiser. He figured if the cop was dumb enough to leave his keys in it, he got what he deserved. But he continues to lecture me on the dangers of drinking and driving to this day.”
That sounded like Dan.