Chapter 20
FLETCHER
Vince follows me out of the bedroom the following day in almost perfect silence. He’d slipped into bed with me after he got home, even with Georgie home. I hadn’t questioned it, just pulled him against me and held tight.
The silence coming from him isn’t warm or calm at all this morning. It’s messy, clouded by something I can’t read. He sinks into the chair with a deep sigh, his shoulders tense. He doesn’t look at me, his gaze fixed on the rim of his mug like it’ll give him all the answers.
I search for a way to distract him as I spread jam on my toast. “Georgie was happy with the autographs I got for her. I bought her a shirt and a new album too. She was thrilled.”
He manages a small smile but doesn’t look up.
“I really wish she could’ve gone. She would’ve loved it.”
“Yeah.” That single word comes out flat and emotionless.
I try again. “Did you like her new song?”
“I’m not too familiar with her,” Vince says. “Couldn’t tell the new ones from the old.”
“Oh.”
His hollowness shouldn’t bother me. Vince has never been a morning person as long as I’ve known him.
Sometimes, he’ll say fewer than five words to me before I leave for work.
But I can’t stand it today. He’s been so damn distant from me, so closed off.
I wish I knew why. Is it just the upcoming doctor’s appointment, or is Vince mentally pulling away?
I don’t want to believe that. Not with the way he’d held me last night.
Georgie comes through the kitchen in a rush, adjusting her backpack and zip-up hoodie. She downs the last of her milk, sets the glass in the sink, and rushes toward the door for the bus. “Bye!”
Vince forces a smile for her, but it fades the second she leaves. Bones shoves his nose against the front window, whining low.
A strange silence stretches between us. I finish off my toast and wipe my hands on the napkin. “Okay. I’ve only got a few minutes before I need to go, but talk to me. What’s wrong?”
Vince doesn’t answer. He gets to his feet and carries his mug to the sink, washing it and Georgie’s glass with meticulous care.
“Vince?”
He sighs. After a minute, he hangs his head, defeated. “Declan basically told me to take this weekend off,” he says in a rush, back still turned.
I blink hard. That’s what’s bothering him? “That’s… good, right? Means you actually have a weekend off?”
He snorts quietly. “Not when it didn’t feel like a suggestion.”
Something tightens in my chest. I keep my voice even. “What do you mean?”
Vince finally turns, sucking in a deep breath. “He didn’t give me a choice about it, Fletch. He just told me to take some time off. Like it was a command.” He grits his teeth. “I don’t know. It just makes me think he’s going to let me go.”
The words hit like a punch. Fuck.
I’m on my feet without realizing it. “Vince, no. He wouldn’t—”
“You don’t know that,” he cuts in. The pain in his voice knocks the air from my lungs. “Declan has every right to let me go. I’ve been unreliable lately.”
“What? How can you even say that? You’ve been there for every shift, no matter how shitty you feel. And you never go home early.”
“But I’m slow. Off my game.” He shakes his head again, glaring out the window.
“Declan can’t have that. He still has a business to run.
He must think he can’t rely on me if he’s forcing me to take time off.
Especially on the weekend. Plus, he asked Jordan and River to step up last night too.
Told them to watch the crowd instead of me. He knows that’s my job.”
Vince looks more defeated than I’ve ever seen him. Like the idea of losing his job is the final blow.
And it’s all my fault.
“I asked for it, okay?” I blurt. “It’s my fault, not his.”
Vince snaps his head toward me, expression hardening like glass. “What?”
“I asked him to give you the weekend off because I wanted—” I hesitate as Vince’s eyes narrow. “I thought you could use some time away. You know, get out of your head. Especially before your appointment. So I made plans for us to go somewhere.”
The silence that follows is thick. Heavy.
“You went behind my back to my boss?” he says.
“No. Not like that. I didn’t even mention the appointment.”
“He seemed to know about it!”
“Not by me, then. I swear. I just told him I wanted to take you somewhere this weekend and asked if it was possible.”
He doesn’t reply.
“I was trying to help, Vince.”
“By deciding things for me?”
“That’s not—”
“It is, though! You thought I couldn’t handle the stress, so you did something about it. Exactly like Declan.”
“No.”
Vince clenches his hands. “You know what? Just stop. Stop trying to do everything for me. I’m not an invalid.”
The words cut deep. I flinch. Vince has never shied away from my help before, and he’s never once acted like he thought I was judging him. Just the opposite. So, where is this even coming from?
“I know that,” I say, grabbing his arm as he walks by. “That’s not how I see you.”
He laughs without humor. “Don’t you, though? You must think I’m weak if I can’t even handle a job.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. This is not how I thought this would go. I’m stunned by his anger.
“Forget it.” Vince turns away, jaw tight. “I have things to do.”
“Vince!”
But he’s gone, closing the sliding glass door before I can stop it.
I stare after him, too stunned to even know what to do. I replay every second, every word, wondering how my surprise for him turned into something ugly.
Tears blur my vision. I thought he would be happy about this. Excited, even, to have some time away since we’ve never had a full weekend together. He’s had a rare Sunday off here or there, but never the entire weekend.
He’s acting like I cut him off at the knees.
Did I?
Did I somehow overstep here?
A text from my brother forces me into action. I need to get going. I still have a full day of work. But tonight, hopefully, I can talk to Vince and make things right. I need him to see this was never about him being weak or inferior. It was simply me trying to do something good.
I’d never intentionally hurt him.
Vince has to know that… right?
That night, after dinner, I leave the back patio light on hoping Vince will come up after his shift. A part of me fears he’ll go to the in-law suite. Not even try to talk to me.
I’m not an invalid.
Those words have haunted me all day. I replay the last few months in my head, from the first time we actually spoke at the bar to the way he’d whispered my name in his sleep. I recall every look. Every touch. Question all of my offers to help.
Maybe I really did cross a line somewhere.
All I’ve ever wanted is to help. To think I’ve done the opposite… it guts me.
I hold my breath as headlights flash across the yard, and I almost cry in relief when he turns toward the back patio instead of the in-law suite.
His steps are slow and more than a little unsteady, and when Vince finally comes in, he’s quiet.
Tired. He looks older somehow, shoulders sagging under the weight of things he won’t say.
“Want me to warm some leftovers?”
“I ate at work,” he says simply.
I swallow hard. “Oh. Okay.”
He continues on to my bedroom, sitting on the bed with heavy shoulders. I don’t know if it’s from work, from the way we left things, or if he’s physically hurting, but Vince’s walls are back up and I’m not sure how to penetrate them. But he’s here, and that eases the pressure a little.
“We don’t need to go,” I say finally. “This weekend, I mean. We can stay if—”
“I want to go,” he says, finally looking at me.
I shake my head. “But this morning—”
“I want to go, Fletcher.”
I try to take him at his word, but it still feels like he’s mad at me. “Can you help me understand what happened this morning then? Because I feel like I fucked up. I promise it was never about your work ability or anything like that.”
He doesn’t explain. Instead, he reaches for the pain cream on the nightstand and gently smears some of it on one foot.
The knot tightens in my chest. Is he really not going to talk to me?
“Fine,” I say lamely. “If you still want to go, we’ll leave tomorrow after I get off, okay? Pack warm. We’re going to the mountains.”
I expect him to be surprised or show a flicker of interest. Instead, he just nods.
We leave with the air still tight between us. Vince never asks where we’re going, which tells me he only went because I asked him to.
That scares me more than if he’d argued. Does he really want this? Or did I push too far?
My chest stays tight for the entire drive. Vince keeps his gaze out the window, one hand resting on his thigh, fingers flexing every so often as if he’s bracing himself. Or maybe he’s in pain. Shit, maybe that’s it. Maybe he’s in too much pain to go anywhere. Should I have insisted that we stay?
Finally, we pull up in front of the old, wood cabin tucked into the side of the Laguna Mountains.
It’s small and weathered, the planks silvered with age.
With only a single window and a narrow door, it doesn’t look like much, and it definitely needs work.
But it’s one of my favorite places in the world.
I was looking forward to sharing it with Vince, but now I’m not so sure.
I get out and suck in a long breath. The valley opens up below, wide and stunning, with city lights far away. It’ll be a new moon tonight, which means we might see a lot of stars.
Vince gets out slowly, eyes sweeping the clearing. He turns in a slow circle, taking it all in.
“What is this?” he asks.
“An old hunting cabin.” I pop the trunk to unload our bags. “Darren and I bought it after my divorce. We were going to fix it up and sell it, but then the business exploded and… yeah, life.” I shrug. “It’s been our hideaway ever since.”