Tangling Hearts

38. Brendan

Chapter Thirty-Eight

brENDAN

W aiting for a fucking answer and knowing what the hell is coming before she opens her mouth. Because I know women.

R ebecca’s eyes flicker. “The owner of the bar?”

“Yes, Annie. Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. She looked fine. She was here an hour ago and I sent her home. I assured her I would take care of you.”

I blink, anxiety sparked, but it’s so hard to speak. “You did what? What’d she say?”

She pauses, barely moving, surprised. She stutters when she answers, “She said ‘okay.’ And she left.” Rebecca stares at me as I close my eyes shut tight. “I asked how she knew you and she said you just met, so I thought she wasn’t important, Brendan! I’m sorry, I…”

The look in my eyes stops her from saying more.

Struggling against the drugs, it dawns on me that I have no way to get in touch with her. I could call the bar, I guess. Will it still be open? Will it be closed after the burglary? Is she okay? I have no way of knowing.

“Did you get her phone number?”

“I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

I close my eyes again. “I want to make sure she’s okay.”

Holding my hand, caressing it like a mother would, Rebecca says, “She’s okay. She didn’t get hurt.”

I pull my hand away and lay it on my ribcage, a mistake. I yell out from the agony, moving it lower until I find someplace tolerable. “Where’s my phone?”

Rebecca stands and goes to the drawer where my clothes are. I hear cloth moving and figure she must be searching pockets. “There’s only your jeans here and your socks. They must have your shoes. Your shirt was probably torn up, right?”

I refrain from telling her I wasn’t wearing one, and she won’t find my shoes unless she goes back to the bar. Suddenly I remember. “Oh no.”

“What?” She turns around fast.

“I left my jacket at the bar. My phone was in it. I can’t call Mark. Fuck.”

She walks closer, standing above me. “I can call him. What’s the number?”

I stare at her and we both realize it at the same time. “Who knows phone numbers anymore? You just hit the button and dial.”

She bites her lips and shakes her head. “Right. Of course. A modern problem, isn’t it?”

“Who did you tell her you were?”

“What?”

I shoot her a look. “Annie. C’mon. I know you had to tell her something.”

Struggling to admit it, she straightens. “She asked if my last name was Wells. I told her yes. Then she asked if I was your mother.”

I stare at her, knowing the answer before I ask the question. “What did you say to that?”

She sighs. “I told her no, that I was your girlfriend.”

I turn my head away. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you just met her and she insulted me by thinking I could be your…”

“I understand what happened. It’s just pretty much the worst thing you could have said.” I close my eyes.

Getting all huffy, she takes a step toward the door. “You know what Brendan? Why don’t you get some sleep. I’ll come back later when you’re not so ungrateful.”

“Fine. Whatever.” I hear the sound of her heels as she walks out, and the door closes behind her. I’ve got an image of Annie’s stricken face when Rebecca told her that. How she would have put it together that I made her promise she wasn’t lying to me about breaking up with her boyfriend. How I told her I hate cheating. And now here Rebecca goes and plants it in her skull that she’s my girlfriend. I know Annie’s no dummy. I bet when she suggested Rebecca might be my mother it was because she was hoping she was, because she knew there was no way she could be.

Rebecca’s a woman of beauty, presence and grace. And while Annie’s beautiful, too, I know she doesn’t know it. It’s all over her face with how humble and easily surprised she is. How grateful for a compliment. There’s a freshness to her that I really, really like. But Rebecca? She can intimidate most people just by walking into a room. I’m sure Annie saw her and was knocked over. Especially when she wouldn’t have expected anyone to be here.

Dammit. I push the button for the nurse. Within seconds one arrives, the benefits of being a gunshot victim and nearly dying. They keep extra close tabs on you, I would imagine.

“Did you need something?”

“Yeah. But instead I’ll have more drugs.”

She pauses, unsure. “Are you hurting?”

I close my eyes. “More than you can imagine.”

“I’ll check your chart and be right back.”

“Thank you.” I think again of what Annie’s face must have looked like when she left, how stunned she must have been. And how I have no way of telling her I’m not the shittiest guy on the planet. Turning my head toward the window, with my eyes still shut tight against the pain, I mutter, “Unbelievable.”