Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)

“Ho, boy.” Mel scowls at me as I grab the baseball cap with the joint’s logo and ram it on my head. “Slow down. Someone after you?”

“No. No one’s after me.” I grab the bags of greens and start tearing them open, pouring them into a bowl. “How’s business tonight?”

It takes Mel a long moment to reply, and when I look up, my brows draw together, because he’s sweating, his face red as if with fever.

“Business’s fine,” he finally says. “Isn’t it your night off tonight?”

I shrug. Better working than having time to think. “You okay, Mel?”

“Sure I am. Too warm tonight.”

Well, he has a point. Inside the joint it’s pretty hot. “Why don’t you go sit outside? I’ve got this.”

“I’m sure you do.” He chuckles, but doesn’t get up. “Said I’m okay, boy. Make sure there’s cheese and chilies ready in the bowls.”

“Yessir.”

“Hey, you know how I ended up here? Did I ever tell you the story?”

I glance back at him, surprised. I’ve never heard him talk about his past. “No.”

“Ah, well, it’s a long one. To keep it short, I used to live on a farm, way back when. My family owned cattle. We grew up there, my brothers and I. Those were good times.”

“Didn’t know you had brothers.” I pretend to check the chili bowl, curious to hear more.

“Two of them. Howard and Dale.” He wipes at his brow with a big, gnarled hand, and for the first time ever I wonder how old he is. I thought maybe he’s in his sixties, but he looks older tonight. “We inherited the farm when my parents passed away, one after the other. Heart attack, and cancer.”

I wince in sympathy.

“I didn’t want to stay on the farm after that. I wanted to see the world, live in the city. We had a fight, my older brother Howard and I. So I packed up and left. I traveled a lot, hitched rides on cars and trucks and boats. I walked across Europe. I went to China.”

The chili bowl forgotten, I lean forward, straining to catch every word. “China. Wow.”

“Yeah, that was something.” He chuckles. “A vast place. Weird people. Kind, too. Different. I thought that was the farthest from home I’d ever be, and I thought I’d be happy. Well, I was wrong on both accounts.”

“Why?”

“Because, boy, I wasn’t happy. And the farthest from home I’ve ever been is here, not thirty miles from the farm where I grew up.”

“So close?”

“Right around the corner.” He shakes his head, scratches his arm, swats at a fly. “While I was away, Dale died. He fell from his horse and broke his neck. Howard got married, had four kids. And I am here.”

Alone. He didn’t say it, but I can hear it loud and clear.

“You want to go home,” I whisper.

“I do, but it’s been so long since I last talked to Howard I can’t bring myself to call. You know how it is.” He sighs. “Pride. Resentment. Distance. But I’m old, boy, and not growing any younger. When you reach my age, you’ll realize that home is where your heart is. If my brother came to me now… Hell, I’d sell this shithole of a place and move back in a heartbeat, know what I mean?”

I nod, loath to tell him I have no clue. I mean, sure, when you have no roof over your head, no real family, you appreciate friends like nothing else. So Helen was my home for a while.

But what I also learned during my fun teenage years was that the people you care for may vanish from your life and leave you in the cold just as easily. With Helen gone, my home was gone, and I was left mourning.

As for Amber… Amber hasn’t answered, hasn’t acknowledged my gifts, my cards, my words. All I scribbled for her, letter by painful letter. Christ, I’ve sat and stared at the drawings I made of her. I tried baking breakfast muffins the way she taught me. I dreamed of her. Remembered how her skin tastes, how her hair smells.

Hell, I’ve even found myself buying coconut shampoo and coconut soap, because the scent reminds me of her.

But it doesn’t matter, does it? It never does. Maybe it’s time to give up, leave her in peace. Maybe that’s what she really wants.