Page 87 of Catching the Coach
“That’s it?” Dale asks. Sounding shocked I’m not fighting this, but also pained that’s all I’m giving him.
I start my truck and pull out of the parking lot. “That’s it. You’re good with words. I’m sure you’ll put a good spin on it.” Turning my truck in the direction of my apartment I head there. I want to see Lucy, more than anything, but I need time to wrap my head around this.
“Ok, call me if you need anything. You know I’m here for you.”
“I know, Dale. I appreciate it.” I end the call and make the quick drive to my apartment. I park my truck and make the lonely elevator ride up to my empty apartment.
When I open the door, I enter the quiet dark room. Air stale from lack of use or open windows. I sit down on the couch and notice a film of dust on the sleek, cold coffee table. A far cry from the warm wood toned one at Lucy’s. Even in my apartment, where Lucy’s never been, I find myself thinking about her and how much her home has become a sanctuary for me.
Which is probably why this hurts so much, and I don’t mean the pain in my hand. Which fucking hurts but I can deal with the physical pain. What I’m having a hard time dealing with is the pain in my heart. Why would she not trust me with this? Needing answers I dial her number. My heart beats a thousand miles an hour as the line rings. She picks up on the third ring.
“Kessler?” Relief and worry mixed in her tone. “Are you ok? How’s your shoulder? You didn’t injure it did you?” She peppers me with questions.
Her concern does nothing to ease my irritation, instead it just amplifies it. “Stop, Lucy,” I command, my tone is harsher than I intended, but I don’t apologize for it.
I hear her suck in a breath, but remain quiet.
The silence stretches into several seconds, until I finally break it with the question burning in my brain. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her breath shutters over the line and my heart squeezes, knowing she’s crying. I close my eyes against my own pain, waiting for her answer. “I was going to tonight,” she whispers.
I bite out a laugh. “Were you really? Or are you just saying that because Jared exposed your little secret?” I know what I’m saying is cruel, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
“Kessler, I, it’s not like that. I wanted to tell you.” She protests.
“So why didn’t you Lucy? You told me the night you told me about your parents that you trusted me with everything. Yet, you didn’t trust me to tell me about this!” I rake a hand through my hair and get up to pace the short length of my living room. “Answer me!” I demand when she doesn’t say anything.
“I think we should talk about this in person. Where are you? I’ll come to you.”
“No. I don’t want to see you right now.” The words are out of my mouth before I’ve realized what I’ve said.
I hear Lucy suck in a shocked breath.
The words hang between us and instead of taking them back, I pour more salt in the wound I’ve torn open. “I need some time and space to think. I think it’s best if we just hit pause for a second and think about things.”
I hear a muffled sob on the other end and I feel my heart crack. My brain screams at me to take it all back, but my hurt won’t let me.
“Ok,” I hear her whisper through sniffles.
My heart cracks a little more at the resignation and hurt in her tone. I open my mouth to tell her bye when my phone beeps at me and dead air greets me. I look at my phone and see that she’s disconnected the call. I sit there for I don’t know how long, staring at the phone, wondering if I just made a huge mistake. A surge of anger burns through my veins and I toss the phone at the wall, shattering it. I get up and go to my cabinet where I keep my whiskey. This night calls for some strong drinks.
* * *
I’m two, ok three, whiskeys in when a knock sounds at my door.
“Who the fuck is that?” I stare at my almost empty glass, like it’s going to answer me.
The knock sounds again. Louder this time. With a groan I get up from my, not as comfy as Lucy’s, couch and look through the peephole. My brother’s face stares back at me. I contemplate just acting like I’m not home, but he beats on the door again, adding a “Open up Kessler, I know you’re in there. Mom called Lucy and we know you’re not there.”
Fuck.
I unlock my door and hang my head, stepping aside to let my annoying little brother in.
He breezes in like he owns the place. “Dude, way to go radio silent on everyone.”
I silently shut the door, and head back to the living room. I pick up my drink, draining the rest of it. I walk into the kitchen and pour myself another generous glass, taking it back to my couch. I plop down on the cushion, taking two generous gulps before I turn to my brother. “What do you want, Judd?”
He nods to the glass in my hand. “How many have you had?”
