Matt looks like he’s about to stand up and punch something. “But your accident. It has nothing to do with Jasper, does it?”
“Well, that was right after he shoved me. I fell and hit my head on the floor. I was dizzy so that might explain how I missed the car that rammed into me.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Matt mutters. He’s shaking with rage. “I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch.”
“Stand in line,” Evan says, and winces as he straightens in his chair. “Karma will get him one day, man.”
“Karma won’t stand a chance if I get to him first.”
“I’m leaving the garage,” Evan is saying. “Leaving town, as soon as my bones are healed. Even if finding a job around these parts is so damn hard. I can’t fucking do it anymore. I’ll move, go someplace far away from here. Maybe… maybe me and Ruby breaking up was a blessing in disguise. There’s nothing left to keep me here anymore.”
Waves of mortification are going through me, flashes of hot and cold. My father did this. He caused Evan to get hurt, to leave his job and his town. He hurt so many people, including my mom, including us.
Including Ross.
I came here thinking I could set things straight somehow, but now I’m here it all appears much more complicated than it had seemed in my mind, and I have no clue where to start.
Chapter Five
Matt
Evan throws a door open one-handed and gestures with a flourish for us to enter. “The guest room. Only I wasn’t able to make the bed. I left the sheets on top of it, if you don’t mind doing it yourselves.”
I shake my head at him, not bothering with a reply. We came here to help him. Did he think we expected him to wait on us, hand and foot?
Dropping my duffel on the unmade double bed, putting Octavia’s suitcase down by the window, I turn to face him. “Give me a list of everything you need, and we’ll get started. Bird food, turtle food, medicine, stuff for the house… leave it to us, okay?”
He nods. His face is drawn and tight. “Thanks. I owe you one.”
“Why don’t you wanna take anything for the pain?” I round the bed and give him a critical look. “You look like roadkill. Your niece is right, you should go lie down.”
He snorts softly. “Maybe I should. But she’s a kid, and if anything happens to her when I’m not looking…”
Damn, I know the feeling.
“Why do you keep doing that?” he asks.
“Doing what?”
“Rubbing your wrist. That’s a scar, isn’t it?”
I look down, where I’m rubbing the inside of my left wrist, an unconscious, nervous gesture. “Yeah. An old one, though. And we were talking about you, not me. Give me the fucking list and go to bed, buddy.”
He gives me a long look that says it’s obvious I’m changing the topic, but to hell with that. “Sure thing.” He takes out a piece of paper from his back pocket. “Here’s everything I could think of.”
I take it, give it a quick glance. “Awesome. Want me to tuck you into bed?”
“Fuck you, Hansen.”
I grin at him. “Then what are you waiting for? Run along. We’ll wake you up for lunch.”
“I’m not gonna sleep.”
When I pass outside his bedroom ten minutes later, on my way downstairs, he’s already snoring, sprawled on top of his bed.
Shaking my head to myself, I sprint down the steps and go find Octavia so we can head out and get this show on the road.
The sooner we are done here, the sooner we can return home to the kids. I won’t be able to take a proper fucking breath until that happens.