I [Pigpen] grew up in their clubhouse. I understand you because I am you. I also learned to crawl on the sticky floors of where guys made their oaths. But here’s the difference, I grew up watching people make stupid mistakes in the name of revenge.

It also means I could dump what I learned about the Riot onto Pigpen and he'd once again shut me out.

With another curse, I'm out of the truck, slamming the door to piss Pigpen off. He follows as I go up the stairs, then brushes past me when I pause. He grins at me over his shoulder before opening the screen door.

Pigpen's on the move.

Pigpen jumps off as well but snatches my arm, gripping like he means to cause pain.

Because everyone is still treating me with kid gloves, Pigpen's driving me in his pickup truck, blasting music that's more screaming than music. I prefer electric guitar over voices, but it's not my fucking truck.

He [Pigpen] appears too damn happy and that causes a wave of uneasiness.

Don't let your fears create walls or define you.

Pigpen pulls off the gravel road near the house and severs the engine. I go to open the door and he stops me. "Talk to me a second, and I don't mean me talking and you nodding your head like that's acceptable conversation.