37.
Grace
I carried a glass of lemonade and the last book I intended on reading out to the porch. The sun was set high in the sky, its rays scorching the dry grass. Taking a seat in the rocking chair, I placed the lemonade on the table beside me and flipped the book open to page one. After Calvin left, I laid in bed for a while thinking about how I could get through the next two days. I still had a soft spot for him but I was trying to harden that area because I knew something wasn’t right with Calvin, and maybe that’s why I was captivated by him. Broken people were drawn to broken people.
“Whatcha reading?”
Albert stood just outside the front door, carrying a beer and a crooked smile. I rolled my eyes and refocused my attention on the page.
His heavy steps grew louder as he ambled toward me. Although he was large, he was old and mostly drunk, so I figured I could, at the very least, outrun him if need be. Albert took a seat in the rocking chair beside me, slowly rocking back and forth.
“My memory ain’t the best, but I think I owe you an apology,” he said.
I simply nodded.
“I’m sorry. I’m not much of a man but my word is pretty solid. It won’t happen again, and honestly, it was an accident.” He gulped his beer. “I may have a lot of demons, but hurting women isn’t one of them.” Albert raised his eyebrow over his glass.
“Demons?” I asked.
“We all have them. Even you, I’m sure.”
“Yeah,” I said, flipping a page.
“Some people are just better at hiding them,” he said. The chair creaked with each rock.
I looked at him, my eyes skimming over his weathered skin. A silver medical bracelet hung loosely on his wrist—just a sick, drunk old man, that’s what Albert was.
“What’s that for?” I motioned to his piece of jewelry.
He glanced down, holding his hand out. “Oh, that.” The sunlight reflected off of the metal. “List of things I can’t have. Like I said, I got a lot of demons. Things I can’t have and things I have too much of.” He chuckled while he held up his beer. “I’m what Darwin would call ‘not nature’s winner.’”
I let on a small smile. “What can’t you have?”
“Shellfish, nuts, bees, eggs, strawberries. You name it. I can’t have it. That’s why my diet is a steady stream of red meat and booze. And that’s just fine by me.” Albert chuckled again. He set his empty bottle on the table beside him.
“What brought you here?” I closed up my book and gave him my full attention.
“A lot of bad decisions over a lifetime, I suppose. But sometimes after trying to always take the road less traveled, ya just go where it’s easiest, ya know?” He glanced over at me.
“I think I know what you’re saying.”
“What about you? Why you here?” he asked, bringing the beer bottle back to his lips. He clearly forgot it was empty.
“Still taking the road less traveled, I guess.”
He sucked on air and then pulled the bottle from his mouth. “Stay on it because it eventually runs out.”
“You’re not so bad, Albert.”
He and I weren’t so different after all. He too traveled alone, had his own vices to deal with, and was forever searching for the things that kept life interesting.
“I’m not so good either.” He smirked, holding up his beer. “I’ma get me another one of these.” Several of his bones creaked and cracked as he got to his feet. “You want one?”
“Yeah.” I nodded.
He shuffled down the porch, disappearing inside the house. No more than a moment later, Calvin’s truck rolled up with a police vehicle following closely behind. I knew this place was trouble. I felt it as soon as I stepped foot here.
38.
Calvin
Grace rocked back and forth on the porch. I wished every day I came home I could see her. The big blue skies surrounded us like it was our own perfect mini-universe, just for her and me. She was a vision. Her blond hair was tied up in a messy bun. I imagined unraveling it and watching her locks fall around her face. I was happy she’d left her room. A car engine shut off behind me. I didn’t even notice anyone following. Wyatt climbed out of his cruiser.
“Hey, man,” I said.
His face was beet red, and his fists were clenched by his side. A thick, angry vein in the center of his forehead throbbed, and it looked as though it could burst at any moment. In three large steps, he was right in front of me. Rather than his usual friendly salutation, his fist did the talking. The force pushed me backward, and for me, the sun wasn’t the only star in the sky now. My cheek throbbed, but I stood tall.
“What the hell, Wyatt!”
Before he came at me again to deliver another greeting, Grace was between us with her hands on both of our chests. She asked me if I was all right. I knew then she still cared for me. And if she didn’t, she would eventually.
He puffed out his chest and raised his chin. “What’d you do to Charlotte?” Wyatt spat.
“What? What did she tell you?”
Grace’s hands were still up, separating us from one another. I kept a close eye on the gun that sat on Wyatt’s hip. Would he shoot me dead right here? He looked angry enough to do it.
“I saw what you did to her. I saw the gash on the back of her head!”
I blew out my cheeks. My eyes went to Grace then Wyatt. Char wasn’t lying. I had done that. I didn’t mean to. If I had really intended to hurt her, I would have. It was purely an accident. She told Wyatt because she was using him. That much was obvious.
“Is it true?” he yelled. “Did you do that? If you did, I’m going to make sure she presses charges.”
“No!” Grace yelled. She squared up with Wyatt, and he took a quick step back like he was afraid of her.
“Charlotte came here looking for trouble. She was drunk and belligerent. She told me . . .” Grace paused. “She said she slept with Joe. So, if you want to arrest anyone, arrest her for drunk driving and being the town whore.”
Wyatt’s eyes grew wide in disbelief. They snapped between Grace and me. He let out a heavy sigh and stumbled backward.
Grace left out the part about Charlotte and I sleeping together clearly to protect me.
“She slept with Joe?” he stammered.
Wyatt was in love with Charlotte, but this revelation changed everything. I’m sure he hoped she’d come around—that maybe she was just scared about settling down. But he wasn’t the man she wanted to settle down with. I was, and Joe was just a pawn.
I tilted my head, delivering a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, man.”
“Joe’s my best friend.” Wyatt’s lip quivered.
“I know.” I closed the distance between us and patted him on the shoulder. In being all caught up with what Char had done, I forgot about what Joe had done. Wyatt and Joe had been best friends since they were boys. He stuck by Joe after the accident, after most others turned their back on him. He never once bought into the rumors that Joe could have possibly done it on purpose. He even took care of him until he was healed enough to take care of himself.
Wyatt raised his shoulders. “I’ve gotta go.” He hung his head for a moment. “Sorry,” he murmured.