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Whichever way I looked, it seemed like I was in a pickle. There was no easy answer in any of this. Every single solution led to possibly having Josie killed, whether it was by the mob, or while she was locked up in prison. Of course, I was afraid to lose her, but that had to be the last thing on my mind. My selfishness wanted to keep her close, but that didn’t mean it was the right answer, either. She was going to have to make some decisions and have the tough conversation, something that I had been completely terrified of doing. I didn’t want her to think we had given up. I would never give up. Even if something were to happen to Josie, I would spend my life proving her innocence. She really had two choices, and both of them had less than happy endings. It seemed like no matter which way I looked, we were fucked, and I couldn’t let that happen to the love of my life.
Chapter 26
Josie
When I finally woke up, I felt worse than before. The nightmares had really taken a toll on me, and I couldn’t get my mind right. I dreamed the same thing over and over again. My father was dead, and the mob was coming after me. I would step backward off the pier and just fall endlessly until I woke up. I went through that over and over again until finally I had enough and pulled myself from the bed. My stomach growled, and I remembered that I hadn’t had anything to eat in a couple of days. I was so exhausted before and worried about my father that I couldn’t seem to find my appetite. I needed to do something that made me feel normal.
I walked out into the main area and kissed Blaine on the top of the head as he finished up a phone call. I went through the cabinets, trying to find something to cook. Eventually, I landed on steaks, mashed potatoes, and fresh green beans. I liked this housekeeper. She had good taste in food. Without even a thought, I went to work cooking us a good meal. I knew if I didn’t, Blaine would order takeout, and I really didn’t want him to leave the house right then. Besides, there was nothing more comforting than a homecooked meal, and I didn’t know how many of them I had left to enjoy.
As I cooked, Blaine walked over, putting his cell phone in his pocket and kissing me on the forehead. I watched as he made himself a drink and walked into the living room to stare out of the floor to ceiling windows facing the beach. For a moment, everything seemed absolutely perfect and almost like a dream. I could almost believe that I belonged here in this big kitchen, cooking dinner for my man, and getting to sleep in the same bed with him every night. There was something calming about it all. It had actually been the first normal moment I had experienced since everything went down. I could remember what I was thinking when I was cooking last, making a pot roast for my father and preparing to tell him things needed to change. Even then, life was stressful, but at least I had my father around and I knew he was safe. I swirled the chopped potatoes around in the water and sighed. It really did feel like I belonged in Blaine’s home with him by my side. Well, if it weren’t for thoughts of the mob floating in my head, it would feel normal.
I pushed the thoughts from my mind and put the steaks in the pan, listening to them sizzle. I watched as the outside turned dark and then flipped them, not wanting to burn them. It wasn’t often that I got to cook steaks like these, and I wasn’t totally confident about how to do it. I grabbed the thermometer from a nearby drawer and stuck it into the center, deciding to cook it just a bit more. When they were done, I pulled the plates down from the cabinet and then began mashing the potatoes and pulling the green beans onto the plates. The dinner smelled delicious, and I was pretty proud of my accomplishment. Now it was time to get the opinion of the foodie in the house, Blaine.
I sat the plates down on the table and waved at Blaine to come eat. He smiled as he stood up and walked over, a visible worry hidden under his forced smile. I grabbed a bottle of red wine from the small wine cooler and opened it, pouring us both a glass before sitting down. I placed my napkin in my lap and waited for Blaine to cut into his steak. The color looked good, so I knew I could give myself at least one pat on the back. He put it in his mouth and chewed, his face staying in the same posit
ion. Suddenly, he wrinkled his nose and looked up at me, frozen.
“Just kidding,” he said, laughing. “It’s delicious, thank you.”
“No, thank you,” I said. “Your housekeeper can come do my grocery shopping anytime.”
As soon as I said it, the smiles slipped off both of our faces. I didn’t even think about the fact that I might not ever be able to do the grocery shopping ever again. Suddenly, my phone went off, shaking us both from our thoughts. I pushed the chair out and jogged over, not recognizing the number.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Yes, this is the West Palm police department,” a man said, his voice somber. “I’m looking for Josephine Gray.”
Instantly, I could feel the color drain from my face. My hands started to shake, and my eyes filled with tears. I knew things were too good to be true right now. They were going to tell me I had to come back in. They were going to rip me out of my life again, not even twenty-four hours after I had been released. There was no way I could go back to that cold cell. My heart was racing at a speed I knew couldn’t be healthy, and I could feel it in my veins. I took a deep breath and swallowed, knowing I was going to have to face anything that they had to throw at me.
“Hello?” the man asked.
“Yes, sorry,” I said. “How can I help you?”
“Is your father Carl Gray?”
“Yes,” I said excitedly. “Yes, that is my father. Have you found him?”
“We have,” the officer said.
“Oh, good, where is he? Can I pick him up?”
“Ma’am, I think there is a bit of a misunderstanding,” he said. “Your father has been found, but he is dead. We have him at the city morgue ready to be picked up when arrangements can be made.”
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I didn’t think I heard them correctly.
“There was an accident,” the officer said. “Your father wrapped his car around a telephone pole.”
“There must be some mistake,” I said. “My father doesn’t have a car.”
“Yes, we are aware,” he said. “It looks as if the car was stolen from the Highland Casinos a couple of nights ago. His speed was more than three times the legal limit, and his blood-alcohol level was pretty high. I am sorry that I had to give you this news over the phone. We knew you weren’t at home with everything going on.”
“All right,” I said in a daze. “Thank you for your call.”
Before the officer could say anything else, I turned the phone off, letting it slip from my hand and bounce across the floor. I stood there for a moment as if my brain was trying to catch up with what the officer had just told me. Before I could even control it, I let out a scream and dropped to my knees on the floor. My father was dead. He was really dead after everything I had been through for so many years, trying to keep him alive.
I looked up as Blaine rounded the corner and ran into the living room, bending down and wrapping his arms around me. It was like he already knew what happened, and I couldn’t even get my mouth open enough to tell him the entire story. My heart was breaking in my chest, and I felt like the only thing keeping me in one piece were his arms. That was the only thing that seemed to ever keep me in one piece anymore, and I could tell that he knew that. He squeezed tighter as I sobbed, still unable to talk. Everything was spiraling out of control, and I was powerless to do anything about it. I could feel my heart beating wildly in my chest, and everything was getting fuzzy. I was starting to have a panic attack, something I’d only had one other time in my life, and that was when my mother left me alone with my father. I had felt helpless then but never anything as bad as this. There was a dread deep down in my stomach that I just couldn’t shake. My breathing picked up, and I felt like I couldn’t take in a deep breath of air.
My life had become so off-kilter, I couldn’t even recognize it anymore. Hell, I didn’t even recognize myself anymore. I gripped onto Blaine’s shoulder, letting the tears flow, trying to get control of myself. Everything was wrong, and none of it was my fault. Well, maybe it was. Maybe if I had forced my father into a treatment program the first time, I wouldn’t be sitting here on the floor, completely losing it. My father was dead, I was on trial for a murder I didn’t commit, and I had lost my job. What else could go wrong?
