“You had better be dead, so help me God, Garth Black, because if you’re not, I’m going to kill you.” When she rounded into the room, Josie broke to a stop. At first, something that looked close to relief covered her face, but that was driven away by the anger that was about to reach its tipping point.
“Not dead yet, babe.” My voice sounded wrong, too lazy-sounding and low, but that was probably the whiskey’s fault. “Just shitfaced.”
She shook her head, taking in the scene around us. Her eyes lingered on the half-empty bottle of golden liquid between my legs. “You’re dead.” She crossed her arms and leveled me with a look. “Colt Mason? That was your plan? Rekindling the flame with Colt?”
I shouldn’t have drunk so much so quickly. It had hit me hard and lowered just about every inhibition I possessed . . . which wasn’t many. But Josie was one of those inhibitions, and if I wasn’t careful, I knew I’d give in big time. I had to keep trying to remind myself why I needed to keep her at a mile of arm’s lengths.
“What? Colt’s a good guy. You used to think that once,” I said. “Is it so far-fetched to believe you could feel that way again?”
She hadn’t stopped glaring at me since she’d entered the room. I didn’t think she’d even taken a break to blink. “He is a good guy, a better one than you in some ways, especially after what you pulled tonight, but he’s not my guy.” She bit her lip for a moment. “What did you think I was going to do, huh? Give him a rebound fuck down there by our watering hole and then what? We’d just go on to live happily ever after?”
I had to take a break from her glare, so I rolled over to one of the open windows and stared into the night. I stared for so long I could feel it starting to stare back. “That doesn’t seem so far-fetched either.” My voice sounded as empty as I felt. Digging into a dark place, I found what I needed to say and braced myself for her reaction. “And with your sexual appetite, after the month-plus you haven’t gotten any, I thought you’d practically jump him if I was out of the picture.”
I hadn’t heard her approaching, but I definitely heard the snap of her palm slapping my cheek. I felt the sting of it too.
“I wish I could hate you right now, Garth Black, because I would hate you so, so much it’s not even funny. So much.” Her lower lip wobbled a few times, but her glare remained unaffected.
“You just hit a guy in a wheelchair, Josie. That’s a bit low, don’t you think?” I rubbed the place she’d slapped me, not because it hurt but because it reminded me I wasn’t as numb as I’d thought I was. The prickling sensation and tingles trickling into my jaw told a different story.
“I didn’t hit a guy in a wheelchair. I hit you.” She thrust her arms at me. “When are you going to stop being defined by that thing and move on?”
My hands lowered to each wheel as I lifted my brows. “Kind of hard to move on from it when I’m paralyzed.”
“All you see when you look at yourself or think about yourself or talk about yourself is that damn wheelchair. It’s nothing more than some metal, nylon, and rubber, but you’re acting like it’s this nemesis or higher power or something you have no control over.” Her eyes didn’t move from mine, not once. “If all you want to see when you look at yourself is that chair, that’s your issue, but don’t make the rest of us out to be so short-sighted.”
I tipped my hat down lower on my forehead. For Josie, that might have been true. She hardly seemed to notice my wheelchair unless I brought it up, but everyone else was different. Instead of looking me in the eye, their gazes shifted from my chair to my legs.
A breeze came through the window, breaking across my face. It was cool enough to dull the haze of the whiskey, though only as partially as it was temporary. “How did you find me?”
I heard her step closer and sniff the air. “All I had to do was follow the scent of coward,” she said, followed by another sniff. I didn’t argue or try to deny it, because she was right—I was a coward—but my reasons were noble, so at least I was an honorable coward. “I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner, but I guess I was a little busy panicking over where you were and driving through town, checking every last one of your old haunts and asking if anyone had seen you while calling every last friend and enemy of yours I had the number to.”
My phone was still shut off, probably close to dying, and since I didn’t have a way to charge it, it would stay that way. That was okay though. A cell phone was a modern convenience I could have done without, especially when I imagined the earfuls I’d get from Rowen and Jesse when they found out what I’d done. “I suppose that explains why I have a few dozen voicemails and texts from the Sterling-Walkers.”
A huff came from Josie, who was still out of view behind me. That was good too. It was easier to talk to her when I wasn’t looking at her. Or at least it was easier to talk and mask what I was feeling when I wasn’t looking at her.
“They were so worried they were about to jump in the truck and haul over here to help find you, but that was about the time I got your message about meeting you.” A bitter note buried itself deeper in Josie’s voice. “Not cool of you to go stress a pregnant woman—a high-risk pregnant woman—out, Garth. Like you needed anymore bad karma stacked up against you.”
Another rush of cool air blew past me. “I wasn’t the one who called them and said I’d gone missing.”
She took two solid steps closer, probably so she would be within arm’s reach of my neck. “Why can’t I hate you?”
“Because you have a thing for guys on four wheels?”
“It should be easier,” she said to herself, as if she hadn’t heard my reply. “It really should be easier to turn off these feelings I have for you, at least enough so I can hit the level of strongly dislike.”
Having her so close was messing with me. Especially since I could smell her shampoo at this range. The longer she stayed, the more she’d wear me down, and I was already so worn down I was nothing more than a nub. “What are you doing here, Josie?”
“You promised me a meeting tonight. A meeting with you. I’m just making sure you hold up your end of that promise.”
The gentle breeze still working through the window was playing with her hair, swirling it around behind her and throwing a few strands into her face. I was only watching from the very corner of my eye, but she was so beautiful, I found it hard to breathe. How could I let this woman go?
“I’m never going to walk again.” There—that was how. Because I was a gruff jerk.
She gave a single nod. “I know that.”
“Knowing that and accepting that are two different things.”
Her eyes shifted from staring out the window to me. An eyebrow crept higher up her forehead. “You’re the one so hung up on that distinction. I’m good with what is and what may be, and I’m ready to get on with our lives already, which is hard to do, by the way, when you try to set me up with other guys.” She was waiting for me to really look at her.
She’d have to wait a long time because I couldn’t look at her and keep up this act much longer. “How did you and Colt leave things?”
She moved closer to the window beside me. “Next time you get the genius idea to set me up with another guy, you might want to do your homework to see if said guy is available in the first place. Thank you for that awkward moment, by the way too. Ass. Hole.”
My jaw tightened. “I didn’t know Colt was serious with anyone.”
“Yeah, that’s obvious,” she muttered.
“Anyone I know?” I asked, not because I cared but because the longer we talked about Colt, the less we would talk about me.
“A little. Only one of your best friend’s little sisters.” I saw her watching me, waiting for something to register, but the only thing that registered was more confusion. “Jesse is the best friend I was referring to. In case you were running through some long list of best friends I’m not aware of.”
My eyes narrowed into the night. “Which one?”
“The only
one old enough to date.” Josie’s voice was coated in sarcasm as she stepped closer. But it wasn’t me she moving closer to—it was the window. “Why do you think Jesse was just exuding warm feelings when we all ran into each other at dinner that night?”
I should have picked up on Jesse’s out-of-character gruffness with Colt and what it could have meant, but I’d been too preoccupied that night. “Lily’s, like, painfully sweet and quiet. Colt’s, like, painfully not those things.” I shook my head, wondering if Josie had it wrong. “I’m not getting the love connection there.”
“I’m not sure you’re qualified to judge any love connection after what you pulled tonight.” The edge in her voice was dulling, but her posture didn’t indicate a woman letting go of her anger.
“Maybe,” I answered quietly.
Silence came next, but for no longer than a minute. Josie sighed. “So what’s your plan from here, Garth? Do you have one? Is it practical?” she added when I raised a brow in her direction. “Because I’m starting to question your ability to form a string of logical thoughts.”
The breeze was playing with the hem of her sundress as it continued tugging at her hair. I would have preferred to face her and spend the rest of our last night together watching the wind move over her, but I knew Josie well enough to know she wouldn’t have gone for that. She likely had another five dozen questions and comments and insults to fire at me. “My plan is for you to let me go and get on with your life while I get on with mine. That’s my plan.” I had to close my eyes to get out the rest. “I’m ready to implement it whenever you are.”
If my words pained her as much to hear as they pained me to say, she didn’t show it. “With you and your little friend there?” Her chin lifted, indicating the bottle shoved between my legs.
I felt as if it had almost started to burn me, despite the lack of feeling I had in that region. “I like to consider myself open-minded when it comes to my friendships.”
Josie glared at the bottle for another moment before holding out her arms and slowly spinning in place. “And this is where you’re planning to get on with your life?” Her gaze lingered on the broken windows, the missing drywall, and the dangling electrical wires. “Holed up in this place and letting yourself rot away on the outside while your insides rot away from drinking that stuff? Whining about your glory days and the accident that ended them to anyone who’ll listen? Shutting yourself away from the world you knew, living your life going from one bottle to the next?” She paused, waiting for me to make eye contact.
Even if I’d tried, I couldn’t have. I was too damn ashamed of my behavior, from the day I’d woken up in the hospital to now, with an emphasis on the past day and a half.
She eventually continued, accepting I didn’t have it in me to look her in the eyes anymore. “Now who does that sound like?”
For a moment, I felt a surge of rage at her insinuation, but it didn’t last. My shoulders sagged as I took a good look at myself. My clothes were dirty and rumpled, the odor rolling off me a mix of sweat and body odor, a bottle of whiskey close to my heart and, more importantly, my lips. I hadn’t seen it until right that moment when she’d all but thrown it in my face, but I could have been a carbon copy of Clay. Right down to the bull-riding injury that hadn’t just ruined my career—I’d let it ruin the other parts of my life as well.
I slumped further into the chair, my fingers curling tightly around the neck of the bottle. I needed another drink to dull what I was feeling. I needed the rest of that bottle to wash the realization that I was becoming my father out of my mind until I woke up tomorrow in a pile of my own vomit and self-loathing.
“You should leave, Josie.” My voice sounded like his too. If her shoving Clay in my face wasn’t enough to remind me why I needed to save her from myself, like he hadn’t been man enough to do with my mom, I didn’t know what could have been more motivating.
“This place is just as much mine as it is yours. My money went into it too. My name’s on the deed just like yours is.” Her arms folded over her stomach as she backed away from the window. “So if you want to rot away on your own, go buy your own shitty little trailer and get on with it already. I’m going to go to bed now. In my house.” Leaving the room, she turned down the hallway.
I followed her, but she was moving quickly, and I was too drunk to move as fast. Or hold a straight line.
“Hey, Insane,” I called when I heard her climbing the steps to the second story. She couldn’t just spend the night there. There wasn’t anything up in those bedrooms but cobwebs and dust. “Locate the loose screw and drill it back into place, okay? You’re not staying.”
She paused on the stairs, turning to look at me at the foot of them. “What are you going to do?” She peaked an eyebrow. “Make me leave?”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
She moved a step higher, practically smirking at me. “Then make me.”
She was halfway up the stairs and only moving higher, challenging me with that look on her face. I’d come out here to distance myself from her, and there she was, making herself comfortable and staying put, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop her. Being confined to the chair made me feel a whole new level of helpless.
“You want me to stop defining myself by this wheelchair, but how can I not when you do something like this?” I thrust my arm at her. So close, but she might as well have been in another galaxy for my ability to reach her.
“The man I fell in love with wouldn’t have let a few measly stairs or that damn chair get in the way of what he wanted,” she shouted, tears welling in her eyes.
My gaze lowered to all that was left in my life—the bottle between my legs. “That man is gone.”
Those words settled in the air for a minute. Just when I thought she’d crept up the stairs silently, she cleared her throat. “Can you bring him back? Please?” She reached into the pocket of her tiny cardigan, but I couldn’t make out what she pulled out. It had to have been small. “I want the one who picked out this ring with the intention of giving it to me. I want that guy back, the one who wanted to spend the rest of his life with me.”
I still couldn’t see what she had pinched between her fingers—the combination of the dark and my impaired vision made it difficult out to make my hand in front of my face without it looking blurry—but I knew what she’d pulled from her pocket.
“I want him to look me in the eye and ask a certain question, and I want to give him my answer. I want that back.” Her voice was strong, her posture the same, but the first tear finally fell from her eyes.
I didn’t want to be responsible for any more of her tears, but I couldn’t feed her a lie just to save a few tears. I knew, in the long run, I was saving her a whole lot more of them by setting her free. “That man is gone,” I repeated, more to myself than to her.
“No, he’s still there,” she said with a shake of her head. “He’s just being strangled by this defeatist imposter.” She let that hang in the air for a minute before continuing up the stairs. “If you need me, I’ll be upstairs.”
I watched her go, though I knew I shouldn’t have. “I don’t need you.” Again, I was saying it to myself more than to her, as if I were trying to convince myself it was the truth.
“If that were true, you wouldn’t still be talking to me and staring at me from the bottom of those stairs like your heart just got ripped out of your chest.” She stopped on one of the top stairs but kept her back to me. “You can keep this act up for as long as you want, Garth, but there’s nothing you can say or do to make me believe we don’t have a future together because you’re in some fucking wheelchair. We have one of the greatest love stories of all time, and what? You think something as small and stupid as a wheelchair could break us apart?” She snapped her fingers, just barely looking over her shoulder. “You don’t throw away the love of a lifetime because someone gets injured—that’s when you prove what your love’s really made of.”
I swallowed, my throat bobbi
ng from the ball stuck inside it. “Josie—”
She spun on the steps, her fists balling at her sides. “Stop calling me Josie.” Her jaw tightened. “I don’t like it.”
My own fists balled, but it was from frustration instead of anger. “Stop acting like everything’s going to be okay,” I said in a tone so small it didn’t even sound like me. “I don’t like it.”
She climbed another step. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. And the morning after that.” Her voice sounded so final I believed her. “Oh yeah, and the morning after that and every single goddamned morning after that.”
My fists were so tightly curled I felt my nails about to draw blood from my palms. “I won’t let you rot with me. You need to leave. Now.”
Her head shook, whipping her hair back and forth over her back in one long sheet. “It should be so easy right now to look at you and process everything you’ve just said and done and feel some level of hate”—she peeked back at me over her shoulder from the top of the stairs—“but no, nothing. Son of a bitch.”
“Josie—”
“Good night. Sweet dreams. I love you,” she said with a wave.
Fire surged into my bloodstream as I felt like I couldn’t control a single part of my life anymore. “Damn it, Josie!”
She lifted her finger as if she had been suddenly reminded of something. “Oh, and here’s the ring back since I kind of stole it from your drawer when I was ransacking your room last night, searching for any clue as to where you might have gone.” She tossed the ring at me like it was nothing more significant than a quarter.
It landed in my lap, falling between the seam of my legs where the bottle of whiskey still sloshed. That couldn’t have been a simple coincidence. That was fate’s way of toying with its favorite peon and putting him in his place.
Losers Weepers Page 18
