Chapter 12 – Chris
I am such a fucking idiot! I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, watching rivulets of water stream down my face.
It’s damn hard to wash your face when one of your arms is completely immobilized.
It’s even harder to lower my sweats one-handed so I can take a piss.
It’s even harder to pull them up when I’m done.
Jennie always keeps a stash of new toothbrushes in the bathroom cupboard for guests.
I snag one and brush my teeth. Then I head for the guest bedroom and wrangle my clothes off one-handed, which isn’t easy.
It looks like I’m sleeping in my sweats tonight since I passed on the underwear at the hospital.
I hope Micah thinks to bring me some in the morning.
After yanking the covers down, I crawl onto the bed and lie staring at the ceiling.
I am such a fucking idiot!
Jennie denied I said anything inappropriate to her at the hospital, but I know better.
I know what I said, or at least most of it.
I told her I fucking loved her. That’s true, of course, I do.
But I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud.
And now I’ve put her in an awkward position, and God knows what kind of damage I’ve done to our friendship.
I’m afraid I just ruined the most important relationship I have. If I lose her as a friend, I don’t know how I’ll ever recover from that.
I lie here for the longest time, rehashing what I might have told her, overthinking everything, and generally driving myself crazy.
The house is silent, and I’m wondering what Jennie is doing.
Has she gone to bed? Or is she sitting up wondering what she’s going to do about me and my unrequited love for her?
Fuck!
It feels weird even being here tonight. It’s been years since I stayed over at Jennie’s. When we were kids, Rosie let me and Micah spend the night sometimes. We’d stay up all night watching scary movies and eating popcorn and M&Ms until Rosie made us go to bed.
Micah and I would crash in sleeping bags on the living room floor. In the morning, Rosie would make us pancakes before she had to head off to the diner. George would give me and Micah rides home after breakfast.
The nights I slept over here meant the world to me. It was such a luxury to sleep in a clean, secure home where I didn’t have to watch my back constantly. I lost count of how many of Mom’s tricks tried to make a move on me when she was out cold in her bed, usually after a drug binge.
In the trailer, I slept on the sofa in the living room, so the tricks would have to pass by me on their way out in the middle of the night.
Some of them propositioned me, offering me cash for a blow job.
Some of them offered me money if I’d let them fuck me.
I was probably twelve then. It got so bad, I started sleeping over at Micah’s house a lot.
Jennie never knew about any of that kind of shit. I wanted to protect her from it. I was also ashamed of where I came from. I didn’t want her to know how bad it was.
It’s why I went into law enforcement in the first place—to protect those who can’t protect themselves.
My shoulder is aching like a bitch, but that’s just too bad.
I won’t take so much as an aspirin. I’m terrified of ending up an addict like my mom.
Her addiction to drugs and alcohol is the reason she ended up like she did.
I always wondered what kind of mom she would have been if she hadn’t gotten hooked on the stuff.
I like to think she’d have been a good mom if she could have stayed sober.
I never blamed Jennie for saying no to me when we were kids and I stupidly asked her to school dances.
What girl would have wanted to go to a dance with a kid like me?
I didn’t even own a decent pair of pants.
All I had to my name was ripped jeans, and not the fancy kind, but jeans that were so old and threadbare the fabric tore.
I never blamed her.
But I never stopped loving her either… I just did it quietly, from afar.
* * *
I must have eventually fallen asleep because the next thing I know, the sun is peeking through the blue gingham curtains, and birds are singing outside my window.
After making the bed as well as I can with only one hand, I grab my phone and head to the hall bathroom to pee, wash my hand, and attempt to tidy my bedhead.
It looks like that’s not going to be possible, so I figure a shower is in order.
But I can’t very well take a shower with my arm in a sling, so I slip it off and set it on the counter.
When I straighten my right arm, pain radiates up into my shoulder and neck, and I bite back a curse.
My phone chimes then with a message from Micah.
Micah: Hey, you doing okay?
Me: I’m alive.
Micah: I just dropped supplies outside Jennie’s kitchen door. Jeans, T-shirt, underwear and socks. You need anything else?
Me: Thx. I owe you. Maybe a ride later this morning to the station?
Micah: Sure. Just txt when you’re ready.
I go ahead with my shower, moving very slowly because every time I use my right arm, pain streaks along my spine. I manage to bathe one-handed. I even wash my hair one-handed.
I dry my feet on the bath mat, and with nothing but a towel wrapped around my waist, I slip out of the bathroom and head to the kitchen door to open it. Sitting on the top step is a paper grocery sack. I grab it and take it back to the bathroom so I can get dressed.
Besides more clothing, Micah also packed my deodorant. Good man! At least one of us is thinking clearly this morning. Maybe my brain is still a bit addled by the sedative.
The house is quiet, so I don’t think Jennie and Rosie are out of bed yet. I head for the kitchen, flip on the lights, and start the coffeemaker. While I’m waiting, I pace nervously. I’m not sure how Jennie will respond to me this morning.
I’m just about to pour myself a cup when I hear someone walk into the room. Bracing myself, I turn to see who it is, and I’m majorly relieved to see it’s Rosie in her floral bathrobe and pink bunny slippers. “Good morning, Granny.”
“Hello, Sheriff.” Fortunately, she doesn’t question my presence in her home. “Is there a cup of coffee with my name on it?”
“There sure is, ma’am. Have a seat, and I’ll bring it to you.”
I pour her a cup, add the French vanilla creamer she likes, and set the cup in front of her on the table.
She takes a sip and says, “It’s perfect. Thank you, dear.”
“How about some breakfast? I was planning to make scrambled eggs. Would you like some?”
“I believe I would, honey.”
So, I get out a skillet and some oil and the carton of eggs from the fridge.
It takes me a couple of tries to master cracking eggs one-handed, but I manage.
Just as the eggs start cooking, Jennie walks into the kitchen.
Her hair is damp, so she must have just showered.
She’s wearing blue jeans and a white T-shirt that beautifully hugs her breasts. I force myself to look away.
“Morning,” she says.
“Morning.”
“Where’s your sling?”
“In the hall bathroom.”
“You should be wearing it.”
I shrug. Ouch. “I’ll put it on after breakfast.”
“Speaking of breakfast,” she says, eyeing my efforts at the stove. “You’re cooking.”
“Yeah. It’s the least I can do.”
She goes to pour herself a cup of coffee and takes a seat at the table. “How’s your shoulder?”
I flex a bit, wincing because it’s sore as hell. “A lot better today, which is a good thing. I don’t want to miss any work.”
“Chris.” She levels her let’s be reasonable gaze on me. “Dr. Talbott said you need to take it easy for a few days. Maybe even a week. You should take some time off.”
“I can still work. I’ll catch up on my paperwork in the office and leave the patrolling and chasing to the deputies. Micah offered to drive me to the station later this morning.”
I can tell she’s not happy with my reply.
The eggs are done now, and so is the toast. I fix up three plates and plan to carry them to the table—one at a time—but Jennie jumps up.
“I’ve got this,” she says. “You sit down and rest your shoulder.”
“George must have gone to the grocery store to buy cat food,” Granny says as she takes a bite of her toast. She reaches down and scratches Pumpkin’s chin. “I swear, that man dotes on this cat.”
“Yes, he does,” Jennie says, a bittersweet smile on her face.
Pumpkin saunters over to me and throws himself against my shin. “Well, who can blame him?” I ask as I pat the cat.
I love how Jennie keeps her grandpa’s memory alive for Rosie. There’s no point in reminding her on a daily basis that her husband has passed, not when a little white lie will make Granny happy.
Jennie’s gaze meets mine as she gives me a grateful smile. And for a moment, she lets the pain shine through. Her grandfather’s passing left a big hole in her heart, too.
My chest hollows out, leaving an aching hole. I’d take that pain for her if I could.
Did I tell you I love you, Jens?
I can’t help dwelling on the fact she remembers exactly what I said yesterday, and like me, she’s pretending she doesn’t.
I guess we’re both going to pretend it never happened.