Page 16 of The Other Room

With an eyeroll, Jo pushed herself out of the pit she’d settled into and stood.

“Come on, Jo. Are you seriously still going to be pissed at me? Can’t we get past this?” I knew I shouldn’t push it. Just like Jo had tamed that nasty cat with slow, methodical moves, I should take my time chipping away at her wall constructed of well-placed anger. But like I always did, I charged right in with no tact or timing.

“Really? I’m barely awake, it’s your first morning staying in my cabin... the one I didn’t want you in, and right away you expect that all is forgiven?”

Realizing the error of my ways, I pressed a finger to my chin. “Not so much expect, but more like hope.”

“Well quit hoping. This is temporary, and only happening because unlike you, I’m not a complete asshole. But just because I took pity on your homeless ass doesn’t mean I’m going to forgive and forget. What you did...”

She closed her eyes and the agony of my decision slammed into me again.

“I know,” I breathed. “It was stupid. Selfish. But you have to find a way to forgive me. You have to. I miss you. I miss us.”

For a brief second, I saw her anger slip. Her eyes flashed for only a beat without the heavy emotion that had filled them ever since that fateful day. But only for a second, and then they hardened again.

“Just try to stay out of my way, Matt. I’m taking the day shift today, so I’ll be home by nine. Try not to screw anything up. And stay out of my room.”

Giving up the fight, for now, I nodded and stepped out of her way. She marched back into her bedroom and closed the door, sealing me into the living room with Petunia. The cat and I shared a look before I crept out of its way, careful not to get too close while I moved back to the kitchen to wash off Jo’s plate.

Feeling defeated by my first attempt at patching up the biggest crater left from when I’d exploded my entire life, I went in my bedroom and grabbed my fishing pole from the corner and headed out for some fishing therapy. As I went out the door, I didn’t notice Petunia crouching beside the couch, and I let out an embarrassing shriek when she launched out and swiped at my legs.

“Jesus!” I shouted as I scooted out the door, grateful it slammed shut behind me. “Fucking cat.”

Shaking my head, I marched back to my truck and climbed in, pausing to shoot Jake a text. I’d called him yesterday morning to tell him I was moving in with Jo, and his snort and answer of “Good luck with that” only shook my confidence more.

Me: It’s not going well.

Jake: Did you think it would, dumbass? Jo hates your guts.

I blew out a breath, trying to dig into the resolve I needed to ride out this storm.

Me: How can you forgive me but not Jo? It just doesn’t even make sense.

Jake: It’s Jo. Have you ever known her to forgive anyone? She holds a grudge like nobody’s business. I hope she doesn’t kill you in your sleep.

Me: You and me both, bro.

Jake: If she does, make sure you have it written down somewhere I get your fishing stuff. I want that new rod you just picked up.

Laughing, I shook my head.

Me: Dick.

I put my phone on the seat and pulled out to head to the Sister Bay Marina. Fishing had been good this morning, and I wanted to get a couple casts in to help shed off the tension that tightened my shoulders. When I got to the dock, I parked and hopped out, grabbing my pole from the bed of the truck.

“Hey, Matt! What are you doing on this side of the county? I thought you only fished in Baileys Harbor.”

When I turned, I saw an old fishing buddy leaning against the boat rental kiosk.

“Hey, Ted. Yeah. I’m staying up the road now so looks like Sister Bay will be home base for a while.”

“Oh yeah? Where you working?”

That was a good question. With the season in full tilt, fighting the slow-moving lines of tourist traffic to Baileys Harbor and back five days a week would be a real pain in the ass. “Working for Baileys Harbor doing maintenance right now. Why? You know of something?”

“Hell yeah! I’m desperate for employees. I could use someone with your boating skills to rent out boats and teach the tourists what they’re doing so they don’t kill themselves.”

Pursing my lips, I contemplated it. Though it wouldn’t be a long-term job since it shut down every fall when the Wisconsin weather forced everyone off the water, it could be a good gig while I figured out what the hell I wanted to do with my life. Spending my days on the water with boats and jet skis? Not a shabby way to spend the day.