The Choice by Jean Brashear Page A

into the hall, she heard Cullinane and J.T. headed her way.
    She hadn’t seen him at all that day. He’d even changed his workout time to avoid her. He wasn’t likely to want to see her now.
    J.T.’s voice quavered, “I’ll show him who’s bad.”
    “Are you so sure you can’t talk it out?” Cullinane asked.
    Jillian’s jaw dropped. Mr. My-Way-or-the-Highway was talking compromise?
    “He’d never listen. He only understands fighting.”
    “Fighting rarely solves anything, J.T. There’s usually a better way.”
    J.T.’s skepticism came through in his tone. “I never thought I’d hear you say something soft like that.”
    Cullinane chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with being soft sometimes.”
    Jillian sat down before she could fall down.
    “You’re never soft,” J.T. said.
    “I’m not saying I’m any example to follow, J.T.” Sadness crept into Cullinane’s voice. “The best man I ever knew was strong enough to be soft sometimes.”
    “Was that your dad?”
    “No. It was my grandfather. I never knew my dad.”
    “I did, but mine don’t care what happens to me. He left us a long time ago, after Mary Beth came.” His voice lowered. “I was too much trouble.”
    “I doubt it was you. Maybe he cares. Sometimes people just make mistakes. He’d care if he could see you now.”
    “I wouldn’t give that asshole the time of day.”
    “Then that’s your loss, and his, too, if you ever get the chance and let it pass. You can’t live your life looking back over your shoulder, though. You have to go on from where you are now. And where you are, J.T., is that your mother needs you. She’s taken care of all of you by herself for a long time now. You’re older. You need to be helping her, not hanging out with losers like Rabbit.”
    “Rabbit’s no loser—he can beat anybody around.”
    “That’s not the measure of a real man.”
    “Then what is?”
    “A real man takes care of his responsibilities, doesn’t let down those who care about him, those he cares for.”
    Jillian held her breath, hearing in those words something deep within the man himself.
    But who did Cullinane care for? Who cared for him? She’d never met a more solitary man. Knowing that, and hearing his words, gave her a deeper understanding of the somber shadows she’d sensed.
    “I can’t make much money to help my mom. I’m only twelve.”
    “Money isn’t the key. What your mom needs is for you to be an example for the younger ones. Adam watches every move you make, and the girls need your guidance, too. Haven’t you noticed that they’re afraid of Rabbit and of how you act when you’re with him?”
    “No, I—I never thought about it.”
    “Let me tell you something, J.T. When I was your age, I was the biggest badass around. All puffed up with my swagger and how nobody could tell me nothin’ about nothin’.”
    Jillian smiled as his cadence brought a young, dark-haired wild boy to life in her mind.
    “Yeah?” 
    “Yeah. You think that sounds great, right? Well, let me tell you something. I almost got my best friend killed with my swaggering because I was like Rabbit, too mixed up in my head to see the dead-end I was walking down. And like you, I was mad at the whole world because I’d been given a rough turn. I had no dad, I lived in a shack, and nobody cared if I lived or died except one old man.”
    His tone quieted. “They hauled my best friend to the hospital, bleeding from a stab wound that hit real close to his heart in a fight with some guys I wouldn’t back down from. The cop who brought me home told my grandfather that he’d be smart to let them take me into foster care. He said I’d never be anything but misery for him.”
    Jillian found herself leaning forward.
    “So what did your grandfather do?”
    “First, he blistered my butt so hard I couldn’t sit down until the next afternoon.”
    “And then?”
    “And then he hugged me. Hugged me so hard I could barely breathe. And he told me