The Hero's Redemption
“I always thought you hated me. The way you’d look at me—” Cole shook his head. Why bother doing this? His father would never admit to his unequal treatment of his children, and what did it matter now?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joe said stubbornly.
Yeah, they did have something in common.
“Well, Dad, I guess I should thank you for the update on my good friend Chad.”
“Dani says you’re doing really well. Working full-time, even taking some college classes.”
“Too bad I lost ten years of my life.” He wished he could quit with the bitterness. “It never crossed your mind to believe me, did it? To believe in me?”
“You were running with a rough crowd. Using drugs. It was hard to believe in you.”
“I get that,” he made himself say, “but the worst thing I’d done was take a tire iron to a car fender. Big jump to murder.”
“I’m sorry,” his father said again.
“I appreciate you saying that. But if it’s forgiveness you want… I don’t know. I’ve got to go. Goodbye, Dad.”
His hand shook, but he used his thumb to end the call.
Leaning back in the recliner, Cole closed his eyes. He wanted to talk to Erin like he’d never wanted anything before. Face it, he thought—no matter what happened, little or big, he wanted to tell her. When he couldn’t see her, talk to her, that hollow inside him kept expanding, a sinkhole trying to swallow him.
She cared about him. He knew she did. She might hurt him badly, down the line. But maybe she wouldn’t. Was he really so gutless that he’d keep letting fear hold him back?
* * *
THE FIRST ERIN heard from Cole was a phone call Tuesday evening.
He sounded gruff. “How are you?”
“I’m okay.”
“I’ve had broken ribs before,” he said, doubting her for good reason.
“They’re the worst,” she admitted, giving up with the “I’m fine” thing. “I can’t laugh or breathe deeply—and if I accidentally bump my body with the cast… Reaching high into a cupboard, nope. And the damn cast makes me clumsy. My brain sends these automatic signals and there I go, trying to use my left hand before I know it and whacking something.”
“And it hurts.” He was quiet for a minute. “Collarbone will be really painful for at least a month, too.”
“That’s what the doctor told me. Have you broken that, as well?”
“Ribs were at football practice. Collarbone was in a fight.”
Bad enough knowing he had scars, even if broken bones didn’t leave the same visible evidence.
“I don’t want to bug you,” he said, his voice still gruff, “but I called to say if you need a ride, I’m available.”
Her eyes stung, but she was determined not to let herself sound teary. “Thank you. I’ve got a rental, but I haven’t driven yet. I’m hoping to start back at the library later in the week.”
“Call if you need me.”
He was gone, saving her from saying, I do need you.
Making it back to work that week turned out to be fantasy, not reality. She was too miserable. The pain pills made her groggy, but she hurt too much to function without them. Sleep happened in short increments, interrupted whenever she moved. The rental car sat in her driveway, although she had yet to go anywhere in it. Her insurance agent had told her she should receive a check next week, but she wasn’t up to car-shopping. Neighbors up and down the street brought her casseroles and baked goods, so at least she didn’t have to cook. In fact, she had to freeze a lot of the offerings. Michelle insisted on grocery shopping for her, bringing fresh produce, milk and eggs.
Friday morning, she went online and applied for the job as girls’ volleyball coach at the high school. Her heart was racing by the time she finished. They’d probably already hired someone, but she surprised herself by hoping not.
Exhausted after so little effort, she took a late-afternoon nap. She’d barely dragged herself up from it when the phone rang. Her heart skipped a beat or two when she saw Cole’s name.
“Hi. You’ll be glad to know I haven’t gone anywhere.”