Page 86 of Then You Happened
“You’ve slept with her, Jack. You wouldn’t be so defensive if you hadn’t.”
“I’ve slept with a lot of women,” I counter.
“Yeah but then you move on. You aren’t moving on just yet. That means it will give you enough time to fall for her, if you haven’t already. Isn’t this what happened with what’s her name?” I can hear her snap her fingers on the other end of the call, but I don’t offer up the name. I don’t remind her of Becky Lofton.
“Why are we talking about me? I thought you were the one—”
“And you’re the fall-hard type of guy. I’ve seen it too many times to count.”
“I’m not the fall-hard guy anymore.” Falling hard means I get hurt, which is something I’ve learned to avoid.
The last fall I took nearly broke me.
“And I’m not your alcoholic little sister either.”
“Did you call your sponsor?” I ask yet again, but now with my mind preoccupied on the light in a window where there hasn’t ever been one on before.
“God, you sound just like Dad,” she says.
“Then don’t call me acting like the world is going to end if you don’t want me to make sure you’re taken care of and are okay. I love you, kid, but . . .” Fuck if the constant management of you and your addiction isn’t exhausting.
“But what?”
“I just want you to be okay.”
Silence eats up the line. “I will be.”
Christ, I despise the fragility in her voice. I hate myself even more for not understanding it or her better.
Is this how Dad felt?
Exhausted from wondering if she was serious or playing games each time she cried for help? Was he constantly on edge, waiting for her to relapse again?
“You sure?”
“For now, I will be.” There’s a shuffling sound on the other end. “Promise me you’re coming back.”
“I’m coming back.”
I end the call and toss my phone onto the couch before blowing out a loud exhale. Then I pick it up and debate calling our longtime ranch manager, Evan, to check up on her.
With the phone in my hand, I walk toward the window and stare over to the main house. To the shadow that continues to cross in front of the window every few seconds. To the woman I parted ways with a few hours ago but who I can’t seem to shake from my goddamn mind.
“Well, shit, son. Did hell freeze over?”
“Funny, old man,” I say to Evan.
“If you’re calling, there must be something wrong.” His voice sounds like a thousand cigarettes smoked and crushed into gravel.
“Nothing wrong. Just checked in on Lauren and she seemed a little rough.”
His sigh has me feeling guilty instantly. “It’s been raining nonstop for five days. That’s a lot of time to be cooped up in that house with two little ones. I’ll see about getting them out with me tomorrow. We’ll do something in the stable to give her a break. I’ll pretend I need help or something. That might help.”
“Evan . . .”
“Don’t even think of it. She’s family. You’re family.”
Always have been.
