Page 38 of Camp Bliss
She can’t deal first and feel later. She’s feeling thisnow.
Two: She’s telling me to let her feel this alone. And I don’t want to.
I don’t want to walk away while she caves under this betrayal. I don’t want to leave her alone while her heart splits open.
God, I don’t want to.
I want to be here. I want to be someone she can lean on.
And she just told me that’s the last thing she wants.
I drag a hand down my face. “I’m sorry.” And then I’m out the door, shutting it tight behind me.
I only make it as far as the cabin’s stoop before a wail that sounds like the end of all joy cuts through the air.
Bracing my hands on my knees, I force myself not to go back to her. Not to bust open the door, wrap Greta in a hug, and invite her to let me have it. Hell, I’d let her punch, slap, scratch, and claw me open if it would make her feel better.
It’s only knowing that she’d die if she knew I could hear her that makes me move. And as soon as I’m out of earshot, I’m blowing up that asshole’s phone.
It goes straight to voicemail again, and that’s when it hits me that earlier today, it rang through. At some point, Josh knew that we were trying to reach him, and he stopped accepting calls. The beep sets me off like a landmine.
“You shitbag. What the hell are you thinking? Turn your cowardly ass around and get back over here. Do you have any idea what you are doing to her? I don’t care what the fuck you are going through, Josh. This is not the way to handle it.” I grip the wet hair at the crown of my head and tug it by the roots, not wanting to feel sorry for Josh. Not wanting to assign this fucked up decision to a legitimate mental health crisis. “You should have talked to me. We’re friends. We’re partners. What the fuck are you doing?”
I listen to the dead air like it could give me an answer. Then hang up.
He’ll call me back, right?
When he calms down and starts thinking straight?
Not that calling back or even coming back will fix what he’s broken.
But if he came back and asked for help, I wouldn’t turn him down. Greta wouldn’t either. Which means we can still fix this.
We’d have to make some changes, of course. Big ones. Our timeline of opening next spring might have to be pushed back.
Which would suck, but it’s better than watching all of this crumble to dust, right?
I’m halfway to my cabin, already four and five steps ahead on a plan to reorganize when I stop in my tracks.
Before any of that can happen, I need to find Josh. Greta is in no state to take action. That’s up to me.
Find Josh.
Get him help.
Figure out a way to right this ship.
I don’t know how I’m going to do any of that, but at least it’s a plan.
Deal first. Feel later.
But where the hell do I start?
Scratching my stubbled jaw, I shut my eyes and picture Josh. He packed up his shit this morning. He’d have had to do it fast. We had his truck, and he didn’t take Greta’s car. Which means he had to get a ride somehow.
Which means he had to call somebody.
But who?
