He looks up at me, eyes wide. “No. Hell no. I can’t even—” He cuts himself off. “Never mind.”
I frown. “Did you get into drugs?”
He wrinkles his nose. “No. Never liked feeling high. Pot makes me anxious. Coke gives me the shits—”
“So, did you gamble, then?”
Josh frowns and looks up at me. “Hell no. The house always comes out on top unless you’re good at counting. And even though I am, you can only do that a couple times before they kick you—”
“Josh—” I practically shout. “Where the hell’s the money? What did you blow it on?”
He blinks like I’ve just popped a balloon in his face and looks at me in confusion. “Mostly on an immediate annuity.”
“What?!”
“Low risk, paying about $1500 a month.” He shrugs. “More than enough to live on in Panama.”
I clench my fists and glare. “You told Greta you couldn’t afford rehab.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t. That money’s not mine.”
I work my jaw soundlessly for a moment. “You mean, you still have the money? It’s not gone?”
He shrugs again, and I’m about to deck him. “I don’t haveallthe money. What I spent on travel and what I lived on is gone.” Josh looks up at me with a wince. “And the Jeep I bought new in Panama City depreciated as soon as I rolled it off the lot, but in this market—”
“Josh—” What am I hearing? My heart needs to stop pounding so hard because this can’t be real. “What are you saying?”
My former best friend heaves a shaky sigh and stares up at me from under his brows, looking defeated. “I’m saying that I can’t pay you back everything. At least not right now. I put the condo and car in your and Greta’s names before I left Panama, and I have about twenty thousand in liquid assets, but you can’t liquidate an immediate annuity… I’m sorry.”
My head is on a Tilt-a-Whirl. I put a hand on the edge of my bed before sitting my ass down on it.
Josh looks over at me, shaking his head. “You and Greta will get the payments. I’m so sorry, Zach. I wanna make it right. Give back every penny, but—” His voice breaks and tears fill his eyes. “I-I need help now.”
Like a cow’s, my mouth opens and closes and opens again. “Josh, what—”
Tears spilling from his eyes, he tilts up his face and forces himself to look me in the eye. “A-All the money—everything, everything that is left is y-yours and Greta’s.” His voice trembles before it breaks into sobs. He clenches his jaw, and I watch him fight for control. “W-Would you help me? Help me go to rehab?”
ChapterTwenty-Eight
GRETA
“Miss?”
I blink up at the admitting nurse in New Day Rehabilitation Hospital. She’s holding out a clipboard to me, and I get the feeling she’s been eyeing me with concern for too long.
“I-I’m sorry. What?”
The nurse gives me a patient smile. “Have Mr. Bassett fill these out and sign and initial all the places I’ve highlighted in yellow.”
So much has happened today, my brain is floundering. I take the forms she’s offering, but I’m seriously still processing the truth dump that landed on me this morning.
The money isn’t gone. Josh is giving it all back.
Well, essentially, anyway. In monthly payments over time.
When Zach and Josh explained this to me in the lodge, at first, all I could say to Josh was:
Why didn’t you tell me?
