That Reckless Night
“Another time,” he murmured. “Maybe later...”
“Later when?” she countered beneath her breath. There was never a “later.”
“Dad,” she said, her disappointment sharpening her voice. “I think Wade and Trace would visit more if you would give up the weed. They don’t like seeing you like this all the time.” And neither do I.
“Those boys don’t run my life. They can visit, or they can stay away—makes no difference to me.”
Well, it made a difference to her. She was going crazy trying to run interference for all of the different personalities in the family so that no one collided with one another. And frankly, she was sick of it. “I just wish you guys would get along.”
“Wish in one hand and spit in the other and see which one fills up faster.”
“That’s a pearl of wisdom,” she muttered, irritated. “Don’t you think you’re too old for that crap anyway?”
Her father narrowed red-rimmed eyes at her. “You come here to bust my balls, girl? If so, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
Tears burned behind her eyes that had nothing to do with the smoke. She was a grown woman but somehow hearing her father speak to her that way reduced her to a small child again. She struggled to remember she was an adult and willed the tears away. “You can’t stay in here and smoke your life away. While you’re not paying attention, your wife is slowly trying to kill herself with all the crap she collects in the house. I need your help to get her to change.”
“Ain’t no one going to change your mother.”
Frustration burned beneath her breastbone. Why was everyone in this damn family so difficult? She stood. “What’s it going to take, Dad?” He held her stare, but the smoke had already softened the hard edge. He was slipping into apathy; his favorite place. She looked away with disgust. This was why Trace never visited. And why Wade couldn’t stand to come home. Why was she the stupid one? “She needs help, Dad. And I don’t know what to do. She won’t listen to me. Stop burying yourself in this workshop, pretending that what you do isn’t anything more than sell and smoke pot, and help me save her.”
“You worry too much.” A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. As if she were amusing somehow. “It’s good to see you, kid.”
And just like that her invitation to stay had been rescinded. She was only too happy to leave.
* * *
JEREMIAH OPENED HIS hotel room door to find a long-legged, rangy-looking man staring back at him with a wide smile. “Can I help you?” Jeremiah asked.
“Miranda sent me. I hear you’re in the market for a fully furnished studio apartment. I just happen to have one.”
Jeremiah stared, trying hard not to judge a book by its cover, but the man did not look the type to own real estate. “It’s true,” he confirmed warily. “I am looking for a fully furnished apartment. How do you know Miranda?”
“Oh, we go way back. My sister, Mary, works with her at the fish-and-game office with you. But I’ve known Miranda my whole life. Went all through school together.” He stuck his hand out. “The name’s David, but everyone calls me Otter.” Jeremiah accepted the handshake. Otter smiled. “I’m happy to help out a friend of Miranda’s, who also happens to be my sister’s boss. I figure it’s a win-win.”
Jeremiah smiled. The man was friendly, he’d give him that. What the hell, he’d rather live anywhere than in this motel. “I’d love to take a look if you don’t mind. That would be really nice of you.”
“It’s nothing fancy but it’ll keep you warm and dry.”
Jeremiah’s grin widened. “Sounds good to me.”
Otter wrote down the address and handed it to him on a slip of paper. “I’ll be there today to put in a fresh coat of paint on the walls if you want to come by and take a look. The rent is five hundred a month. Due on the first. There’s also a five-hundred-dollar deposit.”
Seemed reasonable. “I’ll be sure to stop by. Thanks for the offer.”
“Thank Miranda. She is the one who made the suggestion. And I was happy to jump on it.”
Jeremiah folded the small slip of paper and pushed it into his pocket. Considering Otter knew Miranda so well, it was a struggle not to pry. He wanted to say that he would venture into casual conversation about any of his employees but he knew that wasn’t the case. He wanted to know more, simply because he wanted to know more. There was really no way to sugarcoat his reasoning or twist his motivation into something that it wasn’t. “I’ll be sure to thank her.”