14.
Z OEY
“What’s your pain level been like in the past week?”
I thought about it and remembered that I’d only had to take the prescribed painkillers one time, after a long and grueling day carting cinder blocks from one place to another and then stacking them not just once, but twice, because I didn’t have them square the first time.
“You know, it hasn’t been too bad considering how much work I’ve been doing. I’m still stiff when I first wake up, but it’s nothing like it used to be.”
“Any dizziness or . . .”
“Yeah. We need to work on that most of all. Once it happened because I wasn’t paying attention and was caught up in the moment. Well, actually, both times that it’s happened in the last week were because I wasn’t paying attention.”
“What were you doing when the first incident happened?”
I smiled at my friend Lana Tempest, the physical therapist who had been helping me since my release from the hospital, and said, “I’m sure you’ve heard about Garvey Forrester coming home.”
Lana grinned before she cleared her throat and feigned a serious look. “I don’t listen to gossip, Zoey.”
“Bullshit.”
“What exactly were you doing when the vertigo occurred?”
“The first time was when he dipped me back to kiss me, and the second was sort of the same scenario. He was behind me, and, without thinking, I leaned my head back to look at him.”
“Okay, that tells me a lot, both medically and personally, but we’ll talk about the good stuff later. Right now, we need to work on keeping you upright instead of swooning in his arms like a damsel in distress.”
“Even though I hate those exercises, I’m all for it. The last thing I want is to pass out around him. He’s already seen the eyeball twitch and freaked out both times, but I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to gloss over it if I actually pass out.”
“Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen. We’ll work on your leg first and then do the Epley maneuver last.”
“For such a sweet girl, you sure do enjoy torturing people.”
“And I even get paid for it! How cool is that?”
Lana and I got to work, and after about thirty minutes of stretches and exercises, she announced that I had surpassed her expectations and gave me new goals for the next phase of my rehab. I was proud of my progress, but I was still frustrated that my hip and leg were giving me so much trouble.
“Don’t get down on yourself, Zozo. Think of how far you’ve come. After your injury, every step gave you pain, and you’re barely limping now. With strides like this, our medical relationship could come to an end sooner rather than later.”
“Even with my balance?” I asked.
Lana winced and said, “Maybe not that part of your therapy, but your leg is definitely going to fully heal.”
“Let’s get to that part of today’s therapy then,” I grumbled as I hopped off the bench and started walking toward the table near the edge of the room. I’d done these exercises with Lana so many times before that we didn’t even have to talk while we went through them other than the usual catching up on each other’s lives that we did during my weekly sessions.
When we finished, I said my goodbyes and left, ready to get back to my day, even though my evening plans were enough to make me want to run away.
I had faith in my parents and knew that they’d treat Garvey fairly, but first, they needed to understand that he was here for the long haul, something I was trying to wrap my mind around too.
I wanted more than anything to believe that he meant what he said, but it was difficult to do when the last year had taught me that nothing was guaranteed . . . especially my future plans.
When I walked out into the bright sunlight, I found Garvey sitting on the tailgate of my truck, swinging his legs and playing on his phone like he didn’t have a care in the world. Honestly, it was nice to see him so relaxed, considering the stress he’d been under since he came home to Rojo. I wondered if the meeting he had attended while I was in PT had something to do with that.
Working as a police officer, I had encountered more than my fair share of people who suffered from addiction, whether to alcohol or drugs, and I’d had the same experience in my civilian life too. Uncle Tucker, the man who was married to one of my mom’s best friends, was an alcoholic who had been attending AA meetings for so long that I had wondered what he got from them. When I found a chance to ask him, he said that it wasn’t just the help he got from the routine of it all but being surrounded by people who understood the things he’d been through, the cravings he still felt occasionally, and the strength it took to resist them.
I wondered if that was the same thing Garvey felt even though he didn’t have nearly as many years of sobriety under his belt as Uncle Tucker did.
So, I decided to ask him.
“You seem much more calm and centered after the meeting. What exactly do you get from going to them every day?”
“Sometimes, if I’m having a rough day, I might go to more than one,” Garvey admitted. “There are times when I feel like I don’t need to go, and on those days, I make sure I do because the last thing I want to do is slip up again. The best way to help stop myself from doing that is to be around people who understand that urge and are fighting the battle themselves.”
“Is that why you became an addiction counselor?”
“Studying it started as a sort of hobby to help myself understand what was wrong with me and figure out how to fix it. Then I learned that there’s no fix and what’s wrong with me is going to take more work than I can do on my own. So, I decided to make it my job to help other people understand that exact same thing.”
“Have you slipped up since you got out of prison?”
“It’s called a relapse, Zo.”
“Have you relapsed since you got out?”
“No, I haven’t, but the urge to take that route and just lose myself again so I didn’t have to deal with shit has happened at least a million times since I got past my withdrawal and started counseling.”
“Do you still need a sponsor?”
“I’d like to think I don’t, but again, I know that’s not the right way to do things, so yes, I do.”
“Maybe you should talk to Uncle Tucker.”
“I already did.”
“You did?”
“I saw him at the meeting, and we had a nice chat afterwards.”
“A nice chat?” I asked doubtfully.
Garvey burst out laughing and said, “Yes, actually. It was nice to catch up with him, especially since I owed him an apology for the way I treated him when all he was trying to do was help me before I ended up in prison.”
“Did he understand?” Garvey nodded, and I said, “Good. It will be nice to have someone in your corner with my family.”
“I didn’t say he’d be in my corner, Zo, just that he understands.”
“Well, shit. It was worth a try, right?”
Garvey ignored my question and asked, “Are we sitting out here having this discussion because we need to or because you’re trying to be late for dinner?”
“Both,” I admitted.
“How did your therapy session go?”
“Fine.”
“Are you ever going to tell me exactly what’s going on with you, or do I have to keep guessing?”
“What do you think is wrong with me?”
“Nothing. You’re absolutely perfect just the way you are.” When I rolled my eyes, he laughed before he said, “There’s something wrong with your hip or maybe your knee, and you limp. I’m assuming that’s why you’re in PT.”
“Yes, it is. We’re not sure if I got the injury when I fell during the attack or afterward when the suspect was kicking me. Either way, it’s there and getting better, but it’s never going to completely go away.”
“Can they do surgery?”
“I might have to have surgery someday, but I’d rather use that as a last resort. I’m already better than anyone expected me to be in this time frame.”
“Good for you. I’d imagine that working your ass off being Flower Farmer Zoey can only help your physical strength.”
“Are you sore from all that hard work this morning?”
“I was feeling guilty earlier because I skipped my workout, but then you put me to work and I got one anyway.”
“Well, you’ll have that same opportunity for physical exertion every day you show up, so you might not need to join a gym after all.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Garvey said as he hopped off the tailgate and turned around to close it. “I’m ready for tonight.”
“You’ve made peace with your maker and written down what you want me to say at your funeral?” I asked sarcastically.
“Of course. I’ve got no illusion that I’m going to come out of this evening unscathed. As a matter of fact, my guess is that I won’t even come out of it at all.”
“I’ll protect you, big guy.”
“I don’t need you to protect me, Zo, just stand by my side if that’s where you feel like you want to be.”
“It is.”
“If that’s the case, then I can survive anything . . . including dinner with your parents.”
◆◆◆
GARVEY
As much as I’d joked with Zoey about dreading dinner at her family’s house, I was actually excited to get reconnecting with them out of the way.
Of course, running into her twin, Zane, at her hospital bedside wasn’t how I wanted to greet him, but that wasn’t nearly as disturbing as seeing her mother for the first time in years while I was literally still connected to her daughter. Some people might say that there would come a time when all of us might think that encounter was funny, but those people would be wrong.
There was nothing funny about running into Carlie Duke when you weren’t in peak form. That woman could spot a lie at ten paces and didn’t have a problem calling you out on it from the same distance.
And Zoey’s father was just as intimidating but in a completely different way. He’d always been a big, imposing figure of a man who was quick to smile when he thought something was funny but could get angry just as quickly and had no issue expressing that emotion either.
Between Sam and Carlie Duke, it was hard to decide who might be the most intimidating because Carlie could decimate you with words while Sam could do it with his fists. Neither option was anything I wanted to experience any time soon, if ever. Yet, here I am, walking up the sidewalk into the belly of the beast and a situation that was most likely going to decide how my future with Zoey played out.
“Are you nervous?” Zoey asked.
I reached for her hand, and once it was secured in mine, I said, “This conversation was a long time coming, and even though I could have avoided it along with everything else I’ve been running from, I’m more than willing to face anything as long as you’re by my side.”
“That’s not going to help your cause as far as my parents go, but it made me feel all warm and fuzzy.”
“Well, no matter how long I’ve been gone there’s one thing that hasn’t changed. You’re fucking sarcasm is just as strong as ever, if not stronger,” I said as we stopped at the bottom of the steps leading up to her parents’ house. I pulled her closer and then smiled down at her before I asked, “Can I have one last kiss before I walk through those doors toward my imminent death?”
“Of course,” Zoey said before she gave me a quick peck on the cheek.
“You’re a cruel woman.”
“I’ll give you a real one right before the ambulance doors close to take you away.”
“As if they’ll leave enough of me for an ambulance ride,” I scoffed. “Don’t you mean the hearse?”
“Honey, a hearse means that someone knows there’s a dead body. If it gets to that point, we’re not calling the authorities.”
I burst out laughing and asked, “You do realize it’s my family that has a reputation for things like that and not yours, right?”
Zoey winked at me before she said, “Haven’t you ever heard the theory that it’s the quiet ones you really have to watch out for?”
“Yeah, but no one in my family or yours is ever quiet, so I didn’t think that really applied.”
“Are you going to come inside or just stand there and piss me off?” a gravelly voice called out from the front door.
I saw Zoey bite her lip as she tried to hide her smile, and I narrowed my eyes at her before I turned my head to look at Sam Duke, Zoey’s father.
“Hello, Sam,” I said pleasantly.
“Fuck you, Forrester. I’ve been informed that I’m going to be nice to you tonight even if it kills me. I just want you to know that I’ve lived one helluva good life, and I’m not afraid to die.”
“Yessir.”
“Now get your ass in the house and sit down at the table. Zozo, come give me a kiss on the cheek to thank me for my restraint and good behavior.”
As we walked up the steps, still hand in hand, Zoey asked, “Shouldn’t I hold off on that reward until we leave?”
“Don’t push me, girl. I’m already in a mood.”
“I love you, Dad.”
“You better because not beating the shit out of your little boyfriend is giving me physical pain, and I don’t like it.”
Zoey let go of my hand and turned toward her father when we got to the top step. She put her hand on his arm and kissed him on the cheek before she asked, “Really? Where does it hurt?”
Sam furrowed his brow and moved her hand to the middle of his chest over his heart before he answered, “Right here.”
“Come inside, Garvey,” Carlie said from the doorway. “Let’s give Zozo and her daddy some time alone.”
I glanced over at Carlie and then back at Zoey before I said, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t hurt him, Mom.”
“As if I’d do anything that obvious,” Carlie scoffed. She smiled at me as she pushed the door open and stared right into my eyes when she said, “If you know what you’re doing, poison doesn’t hurt.”
“Good grief,” I heard Zoey mutter right before Sam burst out laughing.
“Welcome back to our home, Garvey. Dinner is almost ready.”
And to think, I’d spent the majority of the day worried about how her father would react. I never even once considered that her mother was the one I should be afraid of.
But then again, Zoey must have gotten her fire from someone, and apparently, it was from Carlie.
◆◆◆
“Dinner was delicious,” I said as I stood up to take my plate to the sink.
“Hmm. I guess I do know what I’m doing.”
I swallowed hard but convinced myself that the burning sensation in my stomach was just heartburn and not a toxic substance eating its way through my stomach lining to end up in my bloodstream.
“Mom, come on. You’re gonna give him a complex.”
“It’s better than a broken jaw,” Carlie said cheerfully.
“Let’s go out to the garage and have a chat, Garvey,” Sam suggested as he pushed his chair back from the table.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” Zoey said as she took my plate.
“No, stay in here with your mom, Zo. I need to talk to your dad alone.” It looked like Zoey was about to argue, but I gave her a quick peck on the lips and said, “It’s something I have to do.”
“Mom made him promise to be nice,” Zoey whispered.
“He has been.”
“My dad probably interpreted that to mean he should smile while he beats you to death,” she hissed before I stepped away. When I shrugged, she rolled her eyes and whispered, “It’s your funeral, Gravy.”
“You’re worth it,” I whispered back before I turned to follow Sam out to the garage.
I pulled the door shut behind me and barely had enough time to look in Sam’s direction before I was against the wall with his hand around my neck. It was my natural reaction to reach up to try and pry his hand away or fight back in some way, but I let them hang at my sides as the green eyes that were so much like his daughter’s glared daggers at me.
“I’m gonna say this one fucking time, Garvey. You broke my daughter’s body and then you broke her fucking heart. Whether she wants to admit it or not, she wouldn’t be in half the position she’s in right now if it wasn’t for you. If you fuck up and get even a quarter of inch out of line, I’ll end you . . . even if that means I have to fight half the goddamn town to do it.”
Suddenly, Sam let me go, and my feet hit the ground as I slid down the wall to stand. I took a deep breath and reached up to rub my neck as I said, “I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that she’s happy for the rest of her life.”
“I know you’re going to try, but nothing in this life is certain. But I do want a promise from you that you’ll do right by her. If you fuck up and go off-track, I want you to leave without a fucking word. Never look back, never come back, and never even consider getting in touch with her again. This is your free pass, and you should use it wisely.”
“I think that sounds more than reasonable.”
“I have your word?”
“Yes, sir. You have my word.”
“Not that it means much, but that’s going to have to do.”