Chapter Eight
“M y name is Jocelyn ,” I offer to his back. “What’s yours?”
He glances at me over his shoulder, a small smile playing on his lips. “Levon. You can call me Von, though. That’s what my friends call me, though I don’t have many of those.”
I shake my head and wave him back to me, trying hard not to smile at the sudden pep in his step.
“Nice to meet you,” I say briskly before I turn my eyes back up toward the boards. “Do you know how to cut wood by some chance?”
“Yeah!”
I point toward the third row. “Can you grab a few of those for me? Maybe we can cut them here and then I can get going.”
He chuckles, “Nah, they won’t let you cut anything in this place. You’d have to pay them to do it.”
I sigh.
Figures.
“Well, I only live a few miles away,” he begins slowly, “I don’t mind doing it for ya if you wanna come hang out for a little bit.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“Aw, come on, Jocelyn. I’m a good guy,” he protests, the light starting to fade from his eyes again. “I just want to help.”
“Why me?” I ask in an even tone as I stare him down.
Von shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just in a helpful mood today. If you don’t want to come to my house and let me buzz these for you, I’ll pay them the extra money here to do it.”
“It’s fine, I’ll—”
Suddenly, my entire body becomes stiff. A familiar cough in the next aisle catches my attention.
It can’t be.
“Wait here,” I say to him quietly. I retrieve my cane from the carriage as Von begins to load it with some boards, and quietly make my way toward the end of our aisle.
Taking a deep breath, I strain to listen as the cough blasts through the air again, then turns to my right. A few more steps and I find myself glancing around the corner.
My eyes sting with bitter tears when I see him standing in front of some tubing, looking over his options.
He hasn’t changed much from what I can remember. There’s some more gray to his beard and hair, but not enough to age him.
I watch as he grunts slightly, then presses a hand to his side before he reaches down and picks up a tube, tossing it into the cart next to him.
It would be so easy to rush him and lay this cane across the back of his head until he paints the aisle red with blood, I think as I watch him turn his back and start pushing the cart.
“Jocelyn?”
I gasp as the sound of my name echoes through the store like a cannon blast.
After making sure he didn’t respond to the sound of my name being called out, I turn away from his aisle, then meet Von halfway along ours, as he heads toward me with a smile on his face.
“Are these good? I picked the ones that looked the smoothest.”
Without so much as a glance at the boards, I reach into my pocket and take out the rest of Dalton’s money, shoving it into Von’s chest.
“Fine. Let me know if that’s not enough.”
Praying that the taps of my cane aren’t as loud as his goddamn voice was, I damn near run out of the store.