68. Dusty

The first time I sat in a jail cell, I was sixteen years old and I vowed I’d never be back.

The second time was complete bullshit. Bo and Skyler would have been dead meat if their dads knew they were carrying weed. Runner, on the other hand, would have just been pissed that I lost a perfectly good baggy. I took the fall, but in the state of Nebraska, you’re just supposed to get a ticket. Not booked and thrown into a cell.

And the third time, I started to feel like the Sheriff and I were bonding. Like he couldn’t stay away from me.

Or like maybe… this is where I belong. Just like my old man.

I lean my head back on the cold cinder block wall, trying to ignore the lingering scent of piss hanging in the air. When you’re younger and you get into this kind of trouble, you can shake it off. Boys will be boys and all that. But as I get older, the line between charming hellion and loser is getting pretty thin.

And I have never, in a life full of humiliations, felt as pathetic as this. Being thrown into the back of a squad car while Marnie looks on is a low that scrapes the bottom.

How do you come back from that?

She knows about my reputation. About the Larsons. Andy was kind enough to fill her in on my dad and his illustrious past. You start demonstrating the same patterns, and someone good like Marnie is bound to notice.

I wanted to talk her into staying in Silver Bend. After this, I’m not sure I have the right.

My head’s pounding and my knuckles hurt. I rest my head on the cool brick and squeeze my eyes shut. I hear a distant door open and swing shut. The sound of boots clipping down the hall. “Off your ass, Larson.”

I lazily open my eyes, watching Jason Carter open the cell. He was two years behind me in school. We played on the same football team. And he’s looking at me like I’m lower than dirt. Smiling, I saunter past him. “Sick of me already?”

“Just move your ass.”

I’m not surprised to see Marnie waiting for us in the lobby. I am surprised, however, when she launches herself towards me. Wrapping her arms around my waist, she knocks the wind out of me. I stumble back a step before I can truly catch her. And then I don’t know what to feel.

I’m crumbling. A hollow vessel quickly filling with something I can’t put my finger on.

She takes my hand in hers and glares at Sheriff O’Neil. Lowering her voice, she tugs my arm against her body. “Let’s get out of here before Deputy Dipshit over there tries to throw us in jail for loitering.”

A laugh spirals up my throat, relief and gratitude colliding violently in my chest. Tipping her chin up, she marches past O’Neil like the queen of England. I wink at him and follow her outside.

Taking in a deep breath of clean air, I tug her to a stop. “Marnie, I…”

She tilts her face towards mine, waiting patiently. My chest fills with emotion so thick and tangled it’s hard to gather my words. I can only manage to string two of them together. “I’m sorry.”

She frowns, tilting her head. “Sorry for what? For protecting Sienna and me? For kicking an ass that needed to be kicked?”

I let out a shaky breath. “I should have held it together.”

“Maybe.”

She puts her hand on my jaw. “But I’m proud of you.”

“What?”

She weaves her arms through mine, putting her head on my chest. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. I’m sorry that asshole Sheriff decided to take you away for just trying to protect Sienna and me. But I’m not sorry you did it.”

I tentatively reach up, running my fingers through her dark hair. “I don’t want you thinking I’m the kind of man who likes to knock people around.”

“If they deserve to have their head knocked around, I like thinking you’re the kind of guy who’d do it.”

She peers up at me through long eyelashes. “I always did have a thing for bad boys.”

Her words are a rose with thorns. I don’t want to be a bad boy.

I want to be a good man.

I want to be worthy of her.

But most of the time, I’m just a run-of-the-mill fuck up.