Page 69 of Bent, Not Broken

Evan

Six Months Later

Allenwood Maximum Security Correctional Facility

“Are you sure you want to do this now?” Madden asked, voice low and his hand holding mine harder than usual. The comforting tightness of his grip made sitting here in the waiting area at the prison a little easier. Everything about the room was confining, with gray bricks and securely locked doors that made us feel like the prisoners. It was the first time I’d been here, and I didn’t like it. It would definitely be the last time.

“I have no choice. I need to end this.” I sat up straighter in the plastic chair with wooden legs and glanced at the prison guard behind the thick bulletproof protective glass of the desk. She had her head down and was staring at something intently. When we’d first entered and given her our names, she’d squinted at us suspiciously before marking us off and passing over visitor stickers we had to place on our shirts. I guessed her attitude was because this was the first time I’d come to visit my father.

Other men and women hovered in the room, either sitting on chairs similar to ours or leaning against the walls, waiting for when they opened the doors to let visitors sit with their loved ones. Or in my case, my father.

“You do have a choice.” Madden kissed my shoulder, the one I’d injured almost nine months ago now. My movement had improved, but I still couldn’t raise it above a certain height. Starting my PI business put me back in the game, though, and that lady that West mentioned? Last week I’d found her daughter hiding out on the other side of the country in Oregon, avoiding her mother after getting pregnant with a local crack dealer’s child. Mother and daughter had reunited and forgiven each other, and it was one of several cases I had under my belt now.

Much to Madden’s surprise, I’d also taken Conrad on as a PI. Monahan offered him his job back a few months after she fired me, but he’d rejected it. He wasn’t the best at following rules, and that was fine by me when it came to investigations. I needed someone with passion, and the kind of person who wouldn’t give up on something, and he was exactly that. Madden thought I was crazy, but it had paid off. Conrad had helped me handle three investigations for top-paying clients. He wasn’t crazy about me and Madden, but once he got over his anger at me making him believe he’d imagined Madden the night he came over drunk, he squared with it fast.

“My brother’s gay. You know that.”

“I’m not gay.”

He snorted. “Bi. I don’t know. There’s so many labels these days, gay is easier to say.”

“I’m here now,” I said, finally answering Madden. “He won’t stop calling unless I come and see him and tell him we’re done.”

“Isn’t this giving him what he wants, to see you?” Madden leaned his head on my shoulder and sighed. He smelled good, a mixture of his sweet cologne and the hot chocolate we had at Grounds and Gears before we traveled here.

“Maybe, but he’ll get to see my face when I tell him we’re done. I’ll block the prison’s number on my phone, and I’ll be done with him for good. He’ll be my past.”

There was a beep and a door opened; a heavyset guard with large shoulders his uniform strained stepped out. “Visitors, please line up. You will head through a body scanner and then be inspected by a guard of the same gender as you. If you have any issues, you may approach me after we enter. These are the conditions of entry.”

As if they were used to the orders, the people in the waiting room immediately lined up. Madden and I stood at the back, watching as the visitors made their way in. Madden didn’t seem uncomfortable, and I guess he’d probably been to see people inside before. I’d never had to go into a jail this way. We followed everyone else, and when we reached the body scanner, it reminded me of the ones at airports, where you stood in the center of a circular contraption as it scanned you for any banned possessions.

After we got through that, a male guard waved a wand over each limb before he gestured that we were good to go. Another guard pointed at a door, and I grabbed Madden’s hand, clutching it tightly in mine as we strode through and into the visiting room.

Multiple long tables were set out, spaced wide enough apart you probably couldn’t hear what other people were saying. In the middle of the room, sitting on a chair beside one, was my father, at least the older, craggier version of what I remembered. Instead of the vibrant brown hair, lush with curls, and a charming smile on a sharp, angular face, I was faced with an old man with gray-infused locks, a bushy beard, and tired skin. I couldn’t mistake those cold blue eyes when they looked at me. His stare still made a creeping shiver slide down my spine.

I straightened my back and held Madden tighter. He’d become an integrated part of my life now, and even though we never outright admitted to each other it was a relationship, whatever it was it was ours, and he was my person. I directed him over to the table, and if Dad seemed surprised by Madden beside me, he didn’t show it. He’d always been good at hiding every emotion, except anger.

He stood when we reached him and grinned, though even that appeared tired. “Evan, my boy.”

“I’m not your boy,” I snapped sharply, aware of a guard who stopped and turned toward us, watching me with a look of warning. “I’m your son only by blood.” I dragged Madden into a seat, and I took the one beside his, ignoring my father’s outstretched hands, his wrists cuffed.

He hesitated then dropped into his own chair, hands splayed over the cold white surface of the table. “I’ve missed you, Evan.”

“I didn’t miss you.” I raised my chin, my chest squeezing at my lungs. “I didn’t come here for a chat, Archie. I’m here to tell you to stop calling, stop trying to reconnect with me. It’s not going to happen.”

He smiled, and this one seemed more real, more him. There was a meanness to it, and even Madden stiffened beside me. “You can never escape me, Evan. I’m your father.”

I shook my head, and the fear clutching at me turned to hot hatred, which curled low in my gut, heating up my entire body. My face felt flushed, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if it was red with fury. “No, you’re not. You’re a man who helped create me, a man who killed my mother, and other women, for the pleasure of it. You’re not my father.”

“I will always be your father.” He leaned forward, his handcuffs clinking on the table, and his grin widened. “And you will always have a piece of me in you, Evan. You can’t escape me.”

I rested my elbows on the table, met him halfway across, and smiled. “Funny, because you’re in here, and I’m free. I’ve already escaped you.”

“With him?” My father nodded at Madden. “Do you think I don’t know who he is? People talk in here. I know he’s a defense attorney, he’s even helped some men get out of here. Your aunt did her research for me too, and I know he represents the Kings.”

“Ah.” I laughed, falling back into my chair. “Now I know why you seemed okay with him being here. You want him to help you get out.”

“I have a parole meeting—”