35. Ledger
Ledger
I open the garage door, and Shiloh’s Jeep isn’t here.
Strange, she should be here. I know she didn’t have a shift at the bar.
I grab my thermos and lunch box, heading inside.
Things were quiet with the Kensingtons. We’re waiting for Will to check in first, and he hasn’t.
And the thing that stresses me the most is not knowing what they are aware of.
They’ve been silent on wiretaps, which doesn’t bode well.
So part of waiting is observing because we can’t walk into a trap and make this already risky task even deadlier.
Dozer barks when I come in, and I let him in the backyard to pee. Waiting for his little legs to carry him back into the house, I close the door and go to her room, and it’s … empty.
It’s exactly how it was before she got here, and it looks barren. Her spirit isn’t there to fill the space. I turn out the light, and a glint catches my eye.
“Dammit, Shy.”
I pick her ring up from the table and pull my phone from my pocket to text her.
Ledger: Tell me you’re okay.
Collapsing on the sofa, I stare at my phone, hoping she answers.
Criminal: I am.
The simple words break something in me, but I can’t do anything but accept it.
She’s her own woman, and far be it from me to keep her from what she wants.
Dozer jumps on my leg asking for my attention, and I stoop down to pick him up.
He’s much bigger than when Shiloh first found him.
He still has weight to gain, but he looks healthier now.
“Well, boy, it’s just you and me now. I hope your mama is settling in okay.”
He licks my face, and I set him down to fill his bowls.
I maintain my routine, as always, and sit down at the dinner table and pour out a box for a puzzle I’ve done three times before. But it’s my norm. It’s what I always do — without her.
Picking up a piece, I set it to the side to organize the pieces while I eat. But after a few pieces, it all feels hollow. My table feels too empty, and the house doesn’t feel like a home anymore. It’s a box with a roof.
After I finish dinner, it’s too early to go to bed, and I have nothing else to do, no one to pick up after. So I call my brother, Fletcher, and try to ignore the pain in my chest.
“Hey man, what’s up?” he asks.
“Hey Fletch, you’re not busy, are you?” I ask him first.
He chuckles. “Tatum wants me to rub her feet, so you’re saving me from that. What’s going on?”
“I wanted to check in and make sure everything is safe over there.”
“Give me a second,” Fletch says, and a moment later I hear a door close.
“I told Dad and the boys, but I didn’t tell Mama, Tatum, Mae, or June. I figured we don’t need to worry them if there was nothing to be concerned about.”
I nod to myself, rubbing my mustache. “Good, I’m glad,” I rasp.
“Are you doing alright? You sound tired,” he says.
I huff. “Yeah, I am.”
“How are things going?” Fletch asks.
“What do you mean?”
“With Shiloh,” he says carefully.
I wince, rubbing at the hurt in my chest. “I told her I love her, then she told me she wanted to be friends, and then she moved out before I got home.”
“Oh shit,” Fletch says.
“Yeah. I don’t know what I did.”
Fletcher is quiet for a moment. “Is it possible you didn’t do anything wrong?” he asks.
“Last time I checked, when you tell your wife you love her, and then she runs away from you, it doesn’t seem mutual, does it?” I snap.
“That doesn’t make any sense. We all saw the way she looked at you. She’s head over heels,” Fletcher says.
“If she’s so head over heels, then why isn’t she here?” I ask him, trying not to yell. I’m angry and confused, and none of it makes sense to me.
“If it were me, I’d say fine, do what you need to do. And sure, we can be friends, but I’d remind her why she fell for you in the first place. Remind her why she’s worth loving.”
How would I do that?
“In here, Tate,” Fletcher calls.
“Do you want me to ask Tate what she thinks?” Fletcher asks.
I roll my eyes, thankful they can’t see it. I know they mean well. “It’s alright,” I mumble.
“Dude, if I don’t tell her, she’ll have my balls,” he says.
“She already has them, you idiot,” I mumble.
“Give me the phone,” she says.
“Ledger?”
“Hey Tate, how are you feeling?” I ask her.
“Oh, we’re doing fine. But I wanted to tell you that you need to be patient with Shiloh.
You’re a special man and I know she’s aware of that, but she’s also been through a lot.
Okay? I think Fletch is right. You need to remind her why she’s worth loving.
” She pauses. “Fletcher had to do that for me because I was so in my head about all of it. We might be smarter than you men, but sometimes we need reminders too.”
I puff out a breath, lost with all this. “Like how, Tate? I took her out on dates, we … we got really close. I thought she was feeling the same way.”
“You said you love her?” Tatum asks.
“Yeah, because I do.”
“Then keep your word and love her through this. I don’t know Shiloh well.
We never really interacted when we were younger.
But based on the woman I know today, I have a feeling there’s a reason she’s being slow to give in.
And yes, part of it probably has to do with getting beat by that piece of shit.
But she’s a tough one, and I don’t think that’s all of it. ”
“Is it possible she doesn’t want me anymore?”
Tatum sighs, and I take that as my answer. “I really don’t think so, but I’m not her Ledge. Do what your brother suggests and remind her. It would work on me,” she says.
“It did work on you, baby,” Fletcher says.
“Okay, that’s my cue.”
“Wait, Ledge!” Fletcher yells, right as I’m about to hang up.
“Yeah?”
“I saw the way you looked at her. You’re like a cartoon with hearts in his eyes, and I can tell she settles something in you. I know you love her. But do what my wife says. She’s always right.”
“She does,” I rasp.
Fletcher clears his throat. “I’ll let you know about the other stuff, okay? And keep us updated,” Fletcher says vaguely.
“Will do,” I grunt and hang up.
They’re right. None of this makes sense.
Tatum is onto something. Shiloh is holding back, and while I wait for her to get through it, I’m going to remind her why I love her.
And even after all of it, and she still doesn’t want me, I’ll sign the papers still loving her, but at least I’ll know that I tried.
They know. The Kensingtons are in full lockdown. They must have determined their people aren’t just blowing them off.
Will checked in to say he was okay, but that’s all he could give us. I’m on pins and needles, but I have another mission to attend to tonight. I hate feeling split between obligations and desires, but it’s the reality I live in.
I called the Wooden Cowboy to see if Shiloh had a shift. They said no, but she did tomorrow. So I’m jumping at the opportunity, and it kills two birds with one stone. I can make sure she’s safe. At least for a little while.
I stopped at the diner to ask if Mollie-Mae knew where Shiloh lived. There aren’t many apartment buildings in Paxton, so I would have figured it out eventually, but I figured I’d save time by asking her friend.
Mollie-Mae told me reluctantly, so now I’m driving it to her place, with dinner and the dog in tow.
When I pull up to her building, it’s one of those quads with four apartments, two on the upper floor, two on the lower.
When we get to the front door, I look for a name, and since there’s one blank, I take a shot at that one, hoping it’s hers.
I buzz it for the intercom and there’s no response. I frown and see her Jeep in the small lot. She’s got to be home.
I buzz it again.
“Hello?” she says.
Her voice over the fuzzy intercom strikes me like an arrow to the heart. “Hey, it’s me.”
It’s silent for a moment, then she appears at the front door, frowning at me and the dog.
She opens the door and drops down to pet Dozer. He wags his tail so hard his butt moves with it.
“Hi, baby, ugh, I missed you so much,” she says into his fur.
“I brought dinner,” I tell her, holding up the bag.
“Ledger, what are you doing?” she asks.
I shrug. “I figured you’d want to see Dozer, and I hadn’t had dinner yet so I thought I’d see if you wanted to eat with me.”
She looks between me, the food, and the dog. I can see the indecision in her eyes, but when they land back on me, they soften.
“Okay, fine. I hope you got a piece of the chocolate cake,” she mumbles and starts up the stairs.
I smile to myself, mentally fist-pumping as I follow her up the stairs and fight my eyeballs from staring at her yoga pants covered ass.
“Quit staring at my ass, friend,” Shiloh tosses over her shoulder.
I lift my gaze to hers and shrug nonchalantly. “You know how I feel about those yoga pants,” I mumble.
“And the shorts, and … honestly all my pants.”
I don’t respond, and she opens the door to her mostly empty apartment. It has a grey carpet and the walls are all white. There’s a fold-up table and chairs by the kitchen, and a few pillows on the floor with her quilt in the living room area.
The kitchen is spotless, though I’m not sure she has a pot or a pan. I can’t imagine the bedroom is any different.
“How are you settling in?”
She drops Dozer down and looks around the white walls.
“Fine, I guess. I know I’m going to need some furniture and stuff, but I got an air mattress and a chair to sit in. It’s enough.”
I set the bag of food on the kitchen counter, trying to keep my face neutral. She deserves more than this.
Shiloh walks past me, brushing my arm, and the hair stands on end. Every cell in my body begs to bring her into me and keep her there where she belongs. But I can’t because we’re friends.
“I hope they tossed plastic forks in there because I only have one fork,” she says.
I nod and pull out two utensil packs.
“I got you the burger.”
“Thanks,” she rasps.
The air strains in the space between us. It feels like it’s stretching and getting thicker at the same time. It’s unbearable, yet I have to take it.
“So how much do I owe you?” she asks before taking a bite of her burger.
I shake my head, noticing the absence of her wedding ring. “Nothing.”
She frowns. “This isn’t a date, Ledger.”
I drop my chin. “Friends can still buy each other dinner,” I mumble.
She purses her lips and focuses on her burger.
“So, how was your day? Anything weird happen?” I ask her.
She shakes her head, but won’t look me directly in the eye. “I’m sorry I just left.”
I wince and take a sip of water. “It’s fine.” It’s really not, but I have to keep it together, and I highly doubt you want to hear that I’ve been worried sick about you since you left and I feel entirely helpless, a little angry, and I miss you like crazy.
“How was your day?” she asks.
I shrug. “Busy, lots of paperwork.”
She rolls her eyes. “Seriously? That’s all I get?” she asks.
I shrug, which seems to be the only thing I’m good at these days. “What do you want me to say?” I can’t tell you what else I’m doing.
“I don’t know. Did you pull over an old lady for a ticket? Did you hear anything about Grey? Did some kids get busted for a field keg?”
I smile. “No, unfortunately, none of the above.”
“What a shame.”
“So, what are you going to get first, a TV or a couch?”
She hums and looks at the empty room. “I don’t know. I could keep using my computer for watching things. Not that I watch much. I’m thinking probably a couch.”
“You could put a nice sectional there,” I say pointing to the corner of the living room.
“I don’t think I need anything that big,” she says.
“Can you paint? Everything is pretty white.”
She huffs. “What if I like white, Ledger?”
I chuckle. “I guess you enjoy living in insane asylums.”
“What if I do?” she snaps.
“Then, by all means, Shy, keep it white. But maybe you should get that poster with a cat and a balloon that says hang in there.”
She snorts. “I don’t know where to get one of those. Does Darla’s sell them?”
“I’m sure they’re special order.”
She giggles and glances at the box with chocolate cake in it. I jerk my chin, telling her to go ahead. I only got it for her. I never intended to eat it.
Shiloh flips the lid open and takes a large bite of the cake, humming.
Her eyes roll back in her head, and my chest warms. I love seeing her happy.
It’s always the simplest experiences, or observations about someone, that come together to make loving someone even easier.
Funny how that works. It’s the small things that make me love her, and it’s the tough ones that say forever.
We chat a little longer then she checks her phone. “I need to get to bed. Early shift tomorrow, and then I have one at the Wooden Cowboy.”
I nod and gather my wallet, keys, and the dog.
“Thanks for grabbing dinner. I was going to have a can of soup.”
“No problem,” I mutter.
She follows me to the door, and I turn, kissing her on the lips, then realize my mistake. “I’m sorry,” I mumble.
Her cheeks are rosy, and she shakes her head.
“I’m sorry, we … it was easy to…” I trail off, not sure what to say, but there’s also a part of me that doesn’t regret it at all. The accidental kiss, the muscle memory of it all will keep me sustained a little longer.
“It’s alright,” she whispers.
“Okay, have a good day tomorrow. Don’t forget to please be careful.
” I pause, trying to think through my words.
“Would you mind texting me when you get to your shift at the diner and bar? Then let me know when you get home? I’d rather escort you, but I know you won’t let me, and I want to make sure you’re okay. ”
She sighs. “Ledger, friends don’t keep tabs on each other like that.”
“Husbands do,” I mutter.
She rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’ll text you.”
“Thank you. Goodnight.”
“Night,” she whispers and closes the door behind me.
This is going to be a lot harder than I thought.