Crank (The Gibson Boys 1) - Page 90
Maybe it’s the rain. Maybe it’s the feeling of helplessness that’s shoved me into a hole. Whatever it is, Crank feels remarkably quiet.
I try to work on a few things, but I can’t focus on anything unless the phone rings. That’s the only thing that spurs me in to action. As I type in a part number, the ringer goes off and my hopes rise and then fall when I see it’s Blaire.
“Hey,” I say, bracing myself.
“Good morning. Imagine my surprise when my secretary brings me in signed divorce papers from you at seven this morning.”
“Why are you in the office on a Saturday morning?”
“When you have plans to take over the world, Walker, there are things to be done. Now, let’s get back to my original point. I’m assuming you saw Tabby.”
“She strolled into Crave last night,” I report, flipping an ink pen between two fingers. “Nice of her, huh?”
“I’m not hearing much in your voice that leads me to believe that went over well.”
“You’re talking to your brother,” I remind her, tossing the pen on the desk. “No need to pretend you ever felt neutral about Tabby.”
“You’re right. There’s never been a neutral bone in my body about that useless excuse for a woman. I loathe her. Seeing her signature on those papers this morning ultimately made my month.”
“So glad I could help ya out.”
“Do I get details? Because I’ve waited on this since you said, ‘I do.’”
Watching Peck push a broom across the floor of the shop, I roll my eyes. It feels like a fucking funeral in here today and I just want to snap everyone out of it and go back to the way it was. Peck’s stupid dancing. Sienna’s reorganizing shit. Tractors that piss me off and muffins on the counter.
“Well, in typical Tabby fashion,” I say, feeling my teeth grit, “she managed to do it at the absolute worst time.”
“She came back for a divorce. Let’s not get picky on timing.”
“She came back because someone told her I’ve been with another woman more than a night or two. I’m figuring someone was at the restaurant I took her to.”
“You did? You’ve been really seeing this girl? Why did no one tell me?”
“Lance probably couldn’t work it in between all the dating texts you sent him.”
She laughs, her chair squeaking in the background. “I always figured it would be Machlan who would need my legal defense first. I’m beginning to think it’s Lance.”
“It might be me if I don’t figure out how to stop wanting to smash something this morning.”
I pick up a stack of papers Sienna stuck on the corner and bounce them on the desk. My skin crawls with the need to move, to do, to fix this shit that I can’t sit still.
“I’m less interested in Tabby, more interested in the new woman.”
“Well, since Tabby ruined that last night, I’m pretty sure she’s the old woman now.”
“You didn’t tell her you were married?”
“Blaire . . .”
“You fucking idiot.”
The door chimes and I don’t even look up. “I gotta go. Someone came in.”
“Call me later. We have to discuss this.”
“Love ya.”
“Love you, Walker. Call me.”
I end the call and look up to see old man Dave standing in the lobby. His hair is dripping wet, his clothes soaked. I spring off the chair and rush around to him.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
He seems physically uninjured, yet sopping. But it becomes increasingly obvious that an injury is there. I just can’t see it.
Grabbing the chair, I work it around to the front. “I need to just get a chair for out here, huh?”
He tries to smile as he sits. “My wife passed this morning.”
“Oh, Dave.” I rest a hand on his shoulder, not sure what to say. “I’m so sorry.”
“She went peacefully. The nurses called really late last night and I headed up there to sit with her. I held her hand,” he says, his gaze settled on something in the distance, “told her stories. Reminded her of all the things we’d done in our lives and how much I loved her.”
I squeeze his frail shoulder, a loss for words.
“The rain started around five o’clock,” he says, his voice so hollow it’s painful for me to even hear. “I was in the middle of a story about a Thanksgiving turkey she cooked one year when she turned her head and looked at me. It was her again . . .” His voice breaks and he coughs into his hand, taking a minute to regain his composure. “Her eyes were blue and bright and she said, ‘Well, hello, David.’”
He bends over and cries, catching his tears in his hands. I feel so helpless. Rubbing his back, I try to figure out what to say. This is a devastation I don’t know, one I can’t imagine. I know the pain of losing my parents, but I can’t imagine spending my entire life with someone and not having her there. The emptiness of not having Sienna already kills me.
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