Returning Your Love (Pippen Creek #1)

14. Chaz

Chapter 14

Chaz

W ho was I kidding?

I’d known shit would end up this way even though it shouldn’t.

Next Sunday night, I would give Jamie full access to my body. I would willingly and without hesitation surrender all of myself to him and do whatever he wanted. He would be my first outside marriage, the one I’d been madly in love with for half of my life.

Intentionally cheating on my wife would make me a piece of shit husband.

Guilt would rot my guts.

Shame would eat at my soul.

Did I give a shit about those three facts?

Clear into the following week, no, I did not. The chips would fall where they would whether it was a one-time hookup between me and my best friend or a continuous affair that went on for years. I couldn’t bring myself to say no. I’d longed for closeness and emotional intimacy for too long. Had been starved for true connection with the only person I’d ever truly wanted it with, and desperation became the deciding factor.

We could both keep secrets when needed.

I stared at myself in the shop’s smudged mirror while washing my hands after jerking off for the second time Wednesday morning. Feverish, bright eyes peered back at me, judgmental as fuck, but I couldn’t be bothered now that I’d finally made up my mind and Shelly was gone until next week.

Nineties grunge rock muffled through the closed bathroom door. Eddie Vedder accompanied the thoughts that had rattled around in my brain since Friday night at Frenchie’s when Jamie had propositioned me.

I’d understood and had willingly agreed. Flirted right back and made my intentions known.

Premeditated infidelity. Never would have guessed I’d gladly indulge in that particular sin, but I was done sacrificing my happiness for everyone else’s. Not like we would get caught. Shelly would be hours away down in Boston. No one would think anything funny was going on for my best friend to stop by during the middle of the day. Locks were on doors and blinds hung over windows for a reason.

Privacy.

And we would have hours of it to finally ignore everything but indulging in what we both wanted.

Needed .

“You’re a piece of shit,” I muttered since that’s what I should say, unable to look at myself any longer. I grabbed some paper towels and dried my hands before shoving out the bathroom door and into my office.

Papers and file folders littered my desk along with some outstanding invoices and other bills that had been piling up over the previous two weeks. I needed to pull out the checkbook and get shit taken care of, but my brain was a mess, and I was in a pickle.

What else was new?

Paying Dad for the loan needed to come first before the electric and combined internet and phone bill at the shop. Yeah, I had a landline. Had the same number from the previous owner so I wouldn’t lose out on returning clients. I should have sat down to address my financial responsibilities on Monday, but I’d required hard labor to keep my body busy and exhausted so I didn’t call Jamie and beg to move up our date because I was desperate for his dick.

Sitting with a pen in hand while trying to make sense of numbers hadn’t ever come easy. I’d tried Monday morning for about an hour before rolling up the shop’s two bay doors but couldn’t pay attention to what needed to get done first. Couldn’t even bring the paper in front of me into focus. As I’d often done in high school, I’d tossed my pen and strode away since there was no Jamie on hand to encourage me to keep plugging along. No kind words of wisdom, showing me different ways of getting shit to stick in my memory, speaking to my brain as though he knew exactly where mine went every time I tried to learn something new.

He’d been a lifesaver?—

“Charles Henderson!”

Fuck .

My eyelids slammed shut at my father’s voice calling over the music playing in the shop. The door to my office was open, so I wouldn’t be able to get him gone without exchanging words. Rather than slipping into the bathroom again and hiding like I’d have done at home when I was a kid, I made my feet take me forward.

Time to face the fire I should have realized would flare up in my inability to write out a check on Monday. At least he waited two days rather than the usual one to bitch about me being late.

Dad stood, hands on hips, peering at the car I had up on the lift awaiting its new catalytic converter. He’d come from work, his gray combover perfect as always, suit coat unwrinkled even though he’d been in his office all day. His perfectly knotted tie wasn’t quite tight enough in my opinion. Lips in a thin line, he oozed his usual disappointment over the vocation I’d chosen even though it fit me better than accounting ever would. Distaste intensified in his dark eyes when they landed on my smudged overalls.

I nodded a greeting, when I’d rather have told him to get the fuck out, and headed toward the second bay’s car waiting for new headlights. Grabbing what I needed from the workbench, I settled in to finish the smaller job while my father spewed the usual shit.

“Your loan payment is late.”

Of course he had to show up rather than texting me a reminder.

“This is the fifth time this year, Charles.” His tone bled frustration, same as always.

“Haven’t gotten to administrative or money stuff yet this week,” I mumbled, wondering why the fuck he was so obsessed with my shortcomings. “Been busy.”

“I recently learned that’s what Shelly has been complaining about to your mother for the previous couple of months.” Disappointment coated his words and leaked into my ears like an oil slick, black and not easily scrubbed away.

Fucking hell, that woman…Shelly had no clue the hornet’s nest she messed with by oversharing with Mom. Riling up my mom meant pissing off Dad. He might be a grade-A asshole when it came to his only child, but he adored his wife and worshiped the ground she walked on. It was too bad Mom hadn’t recognized the power she had over him and set him straight whenever he’d bullied me as a kid. She’d been raised to act like a fifties housewife who didn’t talk back or complain, the perfect helpmate for my father.

Made me want to fucking puke and definitely had caused a root of bitterness inside me toward the woman who should have put me first.

“I’m working my ass off, Dad, trying to pay the bills as quickly as I can,” I finally replied through gritted teeth.

“One would think the loan would take precedence over a tab at Frenchie’s.”

My eyelids slammed shut. So he had heard about the alcohol consumption lately. But had he paid attention to the gossip of who sat at the bar slamming back shots with friends? “I’m not the one with the booze problem, Dad.”

“Is that so, son? I’ve heard you’re often there right alongside your wife, drinking down that vile horse piss.”

Only twice since July had I done that, but who was counting? Hell, I hadn’t gotten anywhere near drunk either night, but that didn’t mean jack shit to Dad. He only ever saw the negative, and his mind was unable to focus on anything that might resemble me getting something right for a change.

I tossed aside my tools and strode back toward the office, intent on doing what I should have done Monday to avoid this type of confrontation.

“You need to keep your wife in line before she further soils the Henderson name.” His stern statement came as no surprise, but at least I managed to withhold from snorting or spouting off curses that would only make him shake his head with even more disappointment.

My hand shook as I scribbled out a check out to Clifford Henderson, unloving father and unforgiving-as-fuck loan holder. Heat lay on my cheeks when I handed it over, gaze somehow steady on him.

He’d followed me to my office but had stopped in the doorway, glancing around my unkempt space, his nose wrinkled, while accepting my two days’ late payment. “I would suggest hiring someone to help around this pigsty, but you obviously can’t afford another laborer when you can barely make ends meet.”

I gritted my teeth. How much had Shelly told Mom?

“Your mother said you’re coming for dinner on Sunday?”

An electrical current rushed through me as the real plans I had for that day whipped through my mind, keeping me from getting pissed about his observations of my office.

“Nope, won’t be able to,” I corrected without feeling bad in the slightest. “I’ve got money to bring in so next month isn’t the sixth time you have to go out of your way to even speak to me.”

“Charles.” He pressed his lips tight, and thank fucking hell the office phone rang.

“Gotta get that—you can see yourself out.” I turned my back on Dad and settled into my squeaky chair, reaching for the phone.

Dad left without another word, disappearing out the door.

I answered the phone, my pulse still thrumming, heart in my throat. “Henderson Auto.”

“Chaz? It’s Sutton.”

A grin split my face, and I released a huge exhale in attempts to calm my nerves. “Hey, Chief. What’s going on?”

“Are you at the shop?”

Dad had disappeared through the bay’s open door, thank fuck, but the worry in Sutton’s tone flatlined my lips.

“Yeah. Everything okay?” I asked, my voice still shaky from Dad’s little visit.

“Shelly’s been in a car accident. You need to get down to the hospital in Berlin as quickly as you can.”

I blinked, dust motes slowly falling in the patch of fading sunlight filtering through the shop’s dirty windows.

No way I’d heard him right. Shelly was with Tara. Heading to Boston for the weekend.

My ears rang, causing his voice to muffle as he continued.

“Wh-what?” My mouth sputtered an attempt to ask for clarity.

“Shelly… Accident… Berlin hospital.”

Those four words broke through, assuring I hadn’t misheard. My chest went tight, and I struggled to breathe. “You’re not k-kidding? I mean, you’re sure it’s Shelly?”

“Yeah, Chaz,” Sutton assured me, his tone full of empathy. “She’s in critical condition and en route to the hospital.”

Fucking hell.

I stared unseeing across my office, my mind starting to race, my body cold.

“Want me to come pick you up in the cruiser?”

“N-No.” Fuck. Talk about a dropped wrench in my life I did not need. We had no health insurance for hospital bills—I would lose the goddamned shop.

How bad are her injuries?

I finally wondered what I should have the second Chief broke the news, and humiliation kicked me in the guts for that not being the first question out of my mouth.

“She gonna be okay?” I finally asked.

“I don’t know, Chaz, but it’s not looking good. You need to get down there, but drive safely. You have any trouble, pull over and call me.”

I forced air into my restricted lungs, trying to get a handle on myself. “Yeah—yeah, I will.”

“Want me to get in touch with Jamie? Let him know what happened?”

Jamie.

Sunday.

“Please,” I whispered, my throat tightening at the sudden overwhelming need for him rushing through me.

“Drive careful, Chaz. Call me if you need assistance.” Sensitivity bled through Sutton’s voice, making my eyes sting with tears. Or maybe it was my desperation for his son’s arms causing the emotion.

“Will do,” I croaked out before hanging up and staring at the black, antique phone.

Thoughts rushed through my brain, but I focused on the most important. Why hadn’t worry over my wife been my first reaction? Any loving partner would have been torn up inside and desperate for answers about their well-being. Humiliation worse than any I’d experienced before slammed into me, causing me to curl in on myself. My office chair squeaked in protest beneath me as I rocked forward, elbows on knees and head in my shaking hands.

What the fuck kind of husband was I?

An unfaithful, piece of shit one.

I moaned, running my fingers through my hair and tugging harshly. “Jesus fucking Christ !” I swallowed hard against the rasp in my voice and hopped up from my chair, needing to move—be proactive—anything other than do nothing like I suddenly felt guilty of since spring.

It took around two minutes for me to shut the shop down and hop in my truck, my legs weak and hands trembling along with my chin. I struggled to set my cell in its holder, but when I finally managed to do so, the screen came to life as my thumb brushed over it.

Shelly had texted an hour earlier.

Breath once more stuttering out, I picked my cell back up and clicked on the message icon.

Her typed words made my stomach turn, and I scrambled back out of the truck to heave up my dinner all over the paved lot.