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Garrison had been free an hour or more, and he still hadn't had any opportunity to act.
He'd driven through Manchester on his way here. It wasn't that far. Samantha and the other man should be close.
Lionel had sent a couple of texts. Both times, it was over so fast Garrison hadn't been able to move. And how could he possibly take out one gunman and keep the other one from shooting everybody?
Garrison had been working on a plan all this time. So far, all he had was jump up, hurdle Matty, lunge at Lionel, and scream "Run!" If Frank would barrel toward Baldie, and if Garrison could get the gun from Lionel, then they'd have a chance.
Too many ifs. He had to figure a way to tell Frank. But how?
A distraction. Then he'd do it.
Lionel's phone dinged. He lifted his gun and aimed it at Aiden's head. Then he read the message. Smiled. "Won't be long now."
Garrison had to act before Sam got back. Because when Lionel had his package they would all die.
But the guns remained pointed. Garrison was willing to risk his own life. Willing to risk Frank's. But not Aiden's.
They'd run out of things to talk about. Garrison would start a conversation, but he couldn't take his mind off what he was planning. Because though he was willing to die, he didn't want to.
He felt like he was finally rebuilding the relationship with Aiden that had been stripped away by divorce and drugs and lies. Garrison wanted desperately to see what kind of man his son would turn out to be. He wanted to see him healthy again. He wanted to see him graduate from high school, go on to college, meet a girl and marry her, become a father. Even the hard moments of parenting—and the previous months had been the hardest of his life—were worth it when he thought about the man his son could become. Garrison had earned the right to see it, hadn't he? Earned it with the late nights pacing the floor, the worrying. Earned it with all times he'd said I love you and received only a grunt in reply. And all of that—the good, the bad, the hard, the torturous—he'd do it all again and more if it would save Aiden.
At least he'd told Sam he loved her. Stupid as it had been to blurt those words out, he was glad he had. He wanted to kiss her again. Wanted to marry her. Wanted to be by her side forever.
He thought of his mother, always loyal to his father. And then he thought of his father. Garrison had been a disappointment to the man for forty-three years. No matter what Garrison had accomplished, Dad had never been impressed. Would Dad cry at his funeral?
He would.
Dad would be sorry he'd never spoken his true feelings. Somehow, though Dad had never said it, Garrison knew his father loved him. Knew beneath all that bluster and hate was a proud man who had no idea how to show his feelings. Was Garrison like his father? He'd always hoped not to be. But hadn't he spent all his life trying to prove himself? Prove he was strong, capable, independent? Like Dad. Dad, who never needed anybody. Dad, who'd never been happy.
That wasn't the life Garrison wanted. To pretend he didn't need others when he obviously, desperately did. He needed Aiden. He needed Sam. He needed help, right now, so he could spend his life with those he loved.
A quote by Kierkegaard popped in his head. The most painful state of being is remembering the future, particularly the one you'll never have.