Chapter 26
Kevin
Five days at the conference, and I was wrung out. The flight back was only three hours, but the recycled air had my eyes burning, gritty. My neck had been knotted since somewhere over Nebraska, and the truck seat made it worse. Almost home, though. Twenty minutes from the airport and I’d be there.
Grabbed a basket inside and moved fast. Milk. Bread. The coffee Lauren liked.
Three people ahead, so I got behind Mrs. Patterson and her cart full of cat food. She turned, and we did the small-talk thing. Weather, the conference, nice to get away but nicer to come back. She smiled, then started backing away already.
“Drive safe, Kevin.”
She took her bags and got out of there before I could answer.
Paid, took my bag, pushed through the front doors into the heat. Late-afternoon sun. The parking lot radiated warmth up through my shoes. A woman loading a minivan three spaces down. Some guy with a cart stopped to dig for his keys. Close enough to hear raised voices and get dragged in.
My truck was halfway across the lot. Almost there when I spotted Tommy Morrison leaning against the tailgate of his F-150, parked two spots over.
He was watching me. Probably since I walked out.
Kept walking toward my truck. Tried to ignore him. Fifteen feet. Ten.
“Hey, Doc.”
Didn’t stop. “Tommy.”
“You doing okay?”
The question made me slow down. Tommy Morrison had never once asked if I was okay. I turned around.
Arms crossed. Mouth tipped the way it always did when he thought he had something on me.
“Fine,” I said. “Just got back.”
“Yeah, I heard. Chicago, right? Medical thing?”
Didn’t answer. The grocery bag cut into my hand. My truck was right there, so I started walking again.
“Heard things have been interesting while you were gone.”
My fingers closed around the handle and squeezed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Tommy pushed off his truck and took a step closer. The tilt stayed put.
“Told you that first night, didn’t I?”
Yeah. I remembered. You got in my face, drunk off your ass, running your mouth about Lauren, and you didn’t even know her.
I reached for the truck door. Missed the first time.
“I told you she wasn’t worth it.” Close enough now that I could smell the cigarettes on him. “Looks like I was right.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do.” He laughed. “You always did hate being the last one to know.”
Lauren was one thing. Jackson was another. My head kicked his name right back at me.
My hand found the door handle again.
“Whole town knew before you did, Doc. Your girl’s been keeping Jackson company while you were gone. Late nights at the bar. Real late.”
I was thinking about the pasta. After that, the list went blank.
Half the night, after close. Just him and her in there. Hated where my head went anyway.
“You’re full of shit.”
“Am I?” Tommy tilted his head. “Ask around. Ask Mrs. Henderson. She saw Lauren’s car at the bar past midnight. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. Her car was there half the damn night. While you were in Chicago learning about medicine or whatever the fuck.”
I looked down at my hand because I couldn’t feel the bag anymore.
Her on the bar with nobody there but him.
The picture was already in my head.
“Have a good one, Doc.” Tommy walked back to his truck, still smiling. “Welcome home.”
Tommy had named it before I could, and he was still smiling about it.
I stood there. Sun still beating down. Families still loading groceries into minivans. A kid crying somewhere across the lot.
I got in my truck. AC running full blast. The grocery bag sat on the passenger seat — pasta, wine, garlic. I stared at my front door long past the point where driving away was still an option.
Grabbed the bag and went inside. I’d rather hear it wrong from her than keep building it in the parking lot.
The house smelled like food when I walked in.
Lauren was in the kitchen. She turned around when she heard me. Had on my faded navy polo, the one I wore on Sundays when I wasn’t doing anything. Hung past her thighs, and she wasn’t wearing anything underneath except underwear. Legs bare, hair piled up messy.
Her face lit when she saw me, smile first, relief right behind it.
Then she looked at me, and the smile went out.
“Hey.” She swallowed. “You’re back early. I thought your flight was later.”
Started with the easy version. Fell apart before she got through the sentence.
Her smile dropped. She pulled her shoulders in and went still.
I saw the shirt, the bare legs, the messy hair, and I still wanted her anyway, just for a second, before I shut it down.
My shirt was on her, in my kitchen.
She shouldn’t have been standing there in my clothes after fucking somebody else.
I gave her that shirt because she said she slept better in it.
“How was your week?”
I walked past her and set the grocery bag on the counter. Right next to a casserole dish.
She made me a fucking casserole. A welcome-home casserole. While I was in Chicago, she fucked Jackson and then she made me a fucking casserole like everything was fine.
Her mug in the sink beside mine.
Her cigarettes on the counter beside the fruit bowl. Didn’t even tuck them away.
She was all over the room.
“Kevin.”
“I asked you a question.”
Didn’t raise my voice. Didn’t need to.
Stayed still and made her answer me one piece at a time.
“Who told you?”
“Does it matter?”