9. Clayton
Chapter 9
Clayton
I dreamed of the cast never coming off my arm. Of it never healing. It became this unwieldy concrete appendage, growing heavier over time until dream-me begged the doctors to cut it off.
Of course I relayed this to my therapist, who assured me that it was natural to be scared about the effects the injury would have on me going forward. I also told her about the fact that I felt trapped where I was. Even now that the walking boot afforded me more mobility, it was as though I was under lock and key.
That was normal too, apparently. Everything was normal. Everything was fine. I felt like the least fine person on the planet, but what did I know? I knew that my skin itched ever since I saw that fucking casino. I knew that not only did I have nothing, I also had nothing to lose. Literally. I didn’t even have a dollar to my name.
While a lot of my situation was currently out of my control, there were some things I could do. Grateful that I could wear jeans again, I pulled on a pair and wrestled my way into a shirt. Sleeves were still a challenge, but I managed to get dressed and strap my walking boot back on my foot. The sight of my leg had been astonishing in a horrible way when the cast came off. I’d expected it to look different, but it was white as a ghost and scrawny.
I made my way to the kitchen where Patricia was. That’s where she spent most of her time when she wasn’t taking women to job interviews and classes and appointments. Her face brightened when she saw me and she dried her hands on a towel.
“Good morning. Don’t you look nice. Do you want a coffee?”
Patricia rarely waited for an answer before jumping into action and normally I’d let her fuss over me and make me a coffee and fill me with cookies and whatever else she’d baked, but today was different.
“Actually, I don’t want a coffee this morning. I— can I ask for a favor?” I plucked at the hem of my shirt as doubt slammed into me. What was I doing? I shouldn’t be asking her for a single thing.
“What do you need, dear?” Patricia pulled out the chair kitty-corner from me. Her face was etched with concern.
“It’s no big deal. And you can say no. But I just wanted—I wondered—I know Kieran would kill me for even thinking of asking this, but can I borrow a little money? I just need a few dollars for the bus.”
Her face went from concerned, to sad, to relieved, and back to sad again.
“I guess you have been cooped up, haven’t you?” Patricia knit her brows together. “I promised my boys not to loan money. Or give you money. But I didn’t promise not to send you on an errand for me. And, of course, I’d have to compensate you.” She stood and went to her room upstairs. When she returned, she handed me an envelope.
“Can you drop that in the mail for me? There’s a postal box right by the bus stop at the corner. Of course I’ll pay you for your trouble.” She handed me a five dollar bill. “It’s not much, but it’s enough for a day pass for the bus so you can get back home, okay?”
I wasn’t sure why I hesitated to take the money from her, but my blood ran cold like ice.
“I don’t want your sons to get mad at you. I never should have asked.”
“It’s not like you asked for much. ”
That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that I’d been willing to ask for anything at all. It started with a few dollars. And then I’d want a few more. The sudden fear that I’d be right back where I was when my neighbor found me clawed at my chest.
“I—” Swallowing thickly, I grabbed the envelope, but left the money untouched. “I think today the short walk to the mailbox will be fine.”
I’d like to say that I left the room fast enough that Patricia couldn’t argue with me, but the only thing that moved fast these days was my brain. How quickly I’d convinced myself that asking for a bit of pocket change was fine, only to turn around and hate myself for doing it. I had no right to put her in a bad situation with her sons. And what would happen to me if they insisted I had to leave? There was nowhere else for me to go.
And that was a problem I needed to tackle. I had to get some kind of a job so I could start paying Shane back. I also needed to leave Patricia’s. There were women who needed the space I was taking up. I was sure my therapist would have a lot to say about this, but therapy wasn’t for another three days and by then I’d have found something else to worry about.
Stepping out into the fresh air with the intention of walking down the street had chills going up my spine. The little bit of freedom the walking boot gave me made my head swim. I’d been to one physical therapy appointment a couple of days ago. Kieran, of course, had to drop everything to take me there. He had to wait to bring me back and I was a tired, emotional wreck after. The way Kieran always seemed unaffected by my shifting moods made it easier to be around him. I should hate him for it, but it was too refreshing for me to conjure up even a little disdain. And then there was the fact that I’d been jerking off to thoughts of him and his beautiful scowl .
Fantasizing about Kieran was the literal last thing I needed to be doing but, to be honest, it wasn’t like I had a lot going for me. The illicit daydreams I had about him were a bright spot in my currently not-so-promising existence.
By the time I got down the street where the mailbox sat, my leg throbbed. My hands trembled when I pulled the mailbox open and dropped the letter inside. I didn’t want to go back to the house, but the pressure in my chest wasn’t easing up. I found myself frozen in place until a horn blaring snapped me out of my fog.
Looking around, I determined that I wasn’t being honked at. I also spotted a park just down the street. I could probably make it there, find a bench to sit on, and rest for a bit before going back to Patricia’s.
By the time I got to the bench, sweat dripped down my temples. The back of my neck felt clammy with it and I dropped heavily onto the seat. What had I been thinking? Honestly, I probably hadn’t been. But every day I woke up and did the same thing.
Breakfast. Therapy on therapy days. Lunch. A whole lot of nothing. Dinner. More nothing. Sometimes a movie with my housemates, but most often I retreated to my room.
Though I could feel my heartbeat in my leg, and the sweat trickled down my spine from the exertion, the day wasn’t half bad. The weather was turning colder now that fall had arrived, but today was almost summer-like. The sky was cloudless and the whole world was still and windless. A few parents taking their kids to the playground nearby gave me sideways glances. It was probably the cast and the boot. They probably thought I’d been in an accident of some kind. To be fair, it had felt like I’d been hit by the karma bus.
Eventually the parents took their small ones home and I still sat on the bench. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but apparently it was enough that a search party had been sent for me. I happened to see Kieran approaching from the street and I stood to meet him halfway. Well, not halfway because I was a lot slower than I used to be.
“Have you been here the whole time? Mom called me saying you went to the corner and she thought you’d be back by now.”
Guilt hit me so hard it made me sway. “I didn’t mean to worry her. I just—I’m going fucking crazy, okay?”
Kieran’s intense gaze didn’t stop me from blathering on about my problems. It wasn’t like I had anyone to talk to. Well, my therapist, but it wasn’t like I had her on speed dial. Or even a phone.
“I don’t go anywhere. I don’t do anything. I sit. I move from room to room like an awkward ghost that needs to be fed. I don’t know if therapy is working because I’m never anywhere that temptation might get me. Which isn’t bad for the short term, but I can’t be in therapy forever. I don’t have a plan, or a job, or fucking anything.”
Mortification swamped me and I nearly collapsed. The only thing that kept me on my feet was my iron-willed determination not to further humiliate myself in front of Kieran, who was still scowling at me, but the scowl was different somehow. The furrows between his brows were more pronounced and his mouth was tighter than usual.
“Sorry. Tell your mom I’ll be back soon.” I started to hobble back toward the house, the one that might as well have been ten million miles away. A strong hand grabbed my good arm. My head whipped to the side. All week I’d dreamed of having Kieran’s hand on me, but not like this. It hadn’t been my arm he was touching in my dreams.
But I’d take what I could get.
Kieran’s hand was strong—his whole body was. He steered me toward his truck and helped me into the passenger seat. Clearly, he was pissed about something, but I couldn’t figure out what I’d said that would’ve made him mad. Most likely he was just sick of me and my drama. My emotions had been on a pendulum lately, swinging back and forth between miserable and meh .
Instead of taking me back to Patricia’s, Kieran drove me to Bennett’s and cut the engine. Unable to figure out what was going on, I watched as Kieran hopped out of the truck and stormed around to the other side. The door opened and Kieran stood there, his scowl back in familiar territory.
“Come on.”
In no position to argue, I unbuckled the seat belt and slid carefully out of the truck. He didn’t ask if I wanted or needed help; he just walked beside me and slowly escorted me into the diner. The black and white checkered floors and red booths looked like something out of a movie. He steered us toward a booth close to the door and sat down opposite me.
A woman came over to the table and beamed at Kieran. Her smile stretched from ear to ear and it was clear she knew him. Hell, it looked like she was into him. My guts twisted at that thought, even though I knew I had no right to be jealous.
“Kieran, good to see you. How’s your mom?”
“She’s good. Busy. You should stop in some time. She’d love to see you.”
“I’ll do that. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Iced tea for me.” Kieran cut his gaze to me. “Thirsty?”
I managed a nod.
“Make that two. And can you bring a couple menus?”
“Sure thing. I’ll be right back.” She scuttled away, her long brown ponytail swaying back and forth as she walked.
“She doesn’t mind me saying, so don’t think I’m gossiping, but Josie left her abusive husband and stayed with Mom for a while before she got back on her feet. She got a job here and it’s been really good for her. She’s put a lot of hard work in, but it’s paid off for her.”
Time slowed down. I felt the way my heart expanded and contracted as it pumped in my chest. “Why are you telling me this?”
Kieran shrugged a shoulder. “You looked like you needed a reminder.”
“Of what?” My throat was dry as a desert and I barely got the sound to come out, but somehow Kieran heard me.
“That life isn’t over just because it’s different than it used to be.”
I stared at Kieran. Unable to move or breathe or even blink as something that felt dangerously close to hope unfurled in my chest.