Page 136 of When There Was You
I’m so lucky.“I’m grateful…for all of you. Thank you for being so welcoming. And kind. It’s a privilege to be included.”
She squeezes my forearm across the small table between us. “We’re glad you’re here.”
I steal another glance at my boyfriend. “Can I ask why Gus seemed worried about Butch earlier?”
Jerri drops her head, as if collecting her thoughts. “I’d wager my son would like nothing more than to drive to Richmond and beat that man to a pulp. The Butch of yesterday would be gone already. His fists have gotten him in trouble before.”
My eyebrows hike.
“He’s...protective. But not a bad guy, if you know what I mean. More like the hero seeking justice.”
I stare into the distance, mulling that over. I totally see that in him.Still...
“What kind of trouble?”
“He’s familiar with the county jail,” she says ruefully. “Bar fights—often from defending women. Admittedly, he was a little hot-headed in his youth. I’m sure my husband saw the murder in his eyes today. It doesn’t sit well with Butch to let a man like Don go unpunished, especially when the person he wronged is someone he cares deeply about. It’s probably eating him alive.”
Oh.
“He can’t afford to be on the wrong end of the law, even if he’s in the right. Gus will help him temper thatinclination.”
The school bus tires squeak to a halt, and we swivel toward the sound. Emmy barrels down the driveway. Butch crouches to meet her at eye level and she falls into his waiting arms. The joy on his face is undiluted as he converses with her, too far away for me to hear. Then he nods at the porch, and her eyes follow. She squeals and runs full tilt in our direction with her pink backpack bobbing behind her. She races up the stairs, dumps her bag, and beelines straight for me.
Emmy launches herself at me. “You’re here! On a school day!”
I squeeze her back, getting a whiff of her apple shampoo, startled by the comfort she brings. I hide my angst and respond with as much cheer as I can muster. “I am. Surprise!”
“Guess I’m chopped liver,” Jerri mutters good-naturedly.
“Hi, Mimi,” she says, still breathless, letting me go and hugging her grandmother.
“How’s my pumpkin?”
“Hungry.” She turns the linings of her shorts pockets inside out. “My snack holes are empty.”
Jerri and I chuckle.
Butch stomps up the steps and his eyes latch on mine. “Do you want to go home…or stick around here?”
He said home. Not his house.Home.
These Hamiltons are efficient little knitters, working to stitch my heart back together. My answer comes easily. I’m exhausted, emotionally drained, and I long for a hot shower to wash away the memory of Don’s intrusive hands.
“Home.”
I scruboff the day’s atrocities and sink into bed, crashing in Butch’s arms with him stroking my back. When I wake, it takes me a befuddled minute to realize where I am and why. The day’s events replay, paralyzing me likethere’s a knife to my throat. Tears spring to my eyes, and I heave in a big breath. A glance at the alarm clock shows it’s near suppertime. When I hear muffled voices downstairs, I stagger into the bathroom and splash water on my face.
It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.
Father and daughter are parked on the sofa watching a movie. Emmy appears to be engrossed, but Butch’s unfocused gaze tells another story. My footsteps bring him back to the present and his green eyes slam into mine. There’s a multitude of emotions pooling in his. Part of me inwardly flinches.
He stands and tilts his head toward the porch. I follow him out the front door and we sit on the stairs with the last rays of sunshine kissing our faces.
“How’re you doing, baby?”
“I’m a train wreck.”
He nods thoughtfully. “I get that. Probably going to take a while to regain your bearings.” He pauses, one hand scrubbing his jaw. “I’m struggling too.”
