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CHAPTERFIFTEEN
Gavin
Something was wrong. When I landed, I called Joey, but she didn’t answer. Then I called her twenty more times until Vince and Harper were buckled and ready, and I couldn’t delay anymore. Now I was struggling not to panic. What if she took the Four Wheeler out and flipped it, or something else equally as heart-wrenching happened? What if someone went up there and realized she was all alone?
Fuck.
My head is a mess, but I still have to get my clients home. Part of me has faith in my girl. Joey is strong and capable, and I trusted that when I left her, but a nagging feeling of dread looms at the forefront of my thoughts until I finally touch down on Sycamore Mountain.
She is here, my girl is here somewhere, and soon I’ll be able to hold her. Everything is going to be fine.
But it isn’t. Joey isn’t here. Beside my truck is an empty space where her Jeep used to sit. Panic rises, and my gut squeezes with uncertainty. Too many what if’s and worst-case scenarios flash through my mind. Once I am parked safely inside the garage, I cut the engine and then bolt to the house. Luckily Vince has an SUV waiting to take him to the other side of the mountain.
“Joey!” I yell, bursting through my front door. “Joey!”
No sign of her. All her bags are gone, and Billy the Kid is nowhere to be found.
She left. She willingly packed up her things and left. Was she unhappy? This morning when I left, we were solid. Why the fuck would she leave?
I knew I wasn’t enough.
A scream rips through my chest, and I fall to my knees. My hands shake as the emptiness of the room starts to creep in. Depression is something I’m all too familiar with. Without her, why bother fighting it?
“Hey, buddy, are you ok?” Harper stands at the door frame with worry etched on her face.
“Fine,” I pant. Still out of breath from screaming.
“I’m going to venture that you’re not. I don’t want to make it worse, but we wanted to let you know your office is a wreck. Papers are blowing out everywhere.”
“What?”
Her words confuse me. My office is always closed. I hardly ever go in there because it still feels like my grandad’s.
“Papers are flying out into the field. There seems to be a lot just scattered everywhere, I’m sorry I couldn’t see much, but Vince pointed out they seem to be coming from your office. Should we close it for you?”
“No. Have a good night, Harper.”
“Ok then. Thanks for the ride.” She easily brushes off my cold demeanor and disappears into the waiting SUV. I make my way back to the garage. Sure, enough white pieces of paper swirl in a gust of wind and glide to my feet. More litter the ground. When I lean down to pick it up, I almost fall over. The first piece I pick up is a part of my hate letter to Joey. The one I wrote to hurt myself by pushing her away. The letter I couldn’t bring myself to send because I knew the words would hurt her, and that’s something I swore I’d never do.
This is why Joey’s not here. She read the letter.
Fuck. My chest constricts, and I heave a heavy breath, weighed down by my mistake. Those pages should have been burned. They never should have stayed on this earth where she could find them.
The pain of my own betrayal burned in my gut. Falling to my knees is the only thing I can think to do. I hurt the only person on this earth that cared a fuck about me. Wanted all my bad, even when it was ugly. How did I repay that kindness by throwing every one of her insecurities in her face for the purpose of self-destruction? It worked. My heart was annihilated, and it felt a million times worse than when I wrote those lies.
The question is if I am going to do anything about it. Can I explain to Joey she was never meant to read it? It was all a lie. I was drunk and self-loathing.
Fuck no. It’s not ok. Getting drunk and spewing my agony to hurt someone I care about is not ok. So even if she never forgives me, I have to make sure she’s ok. That she knows she isn’t her insecurities, but truly the greatest person I’ve ever met. She is everything. Joey Bennett is the smartest woman I know, capable of fixing anything she sets her mind to. Kind and compassionate even to small goats that eat her hair and shit in her shoes. She loves that little devil so much that she stole Billy the Kid. I couldn’t even be mad. I love that about her.
And God, she is beautiful. Beyond compare, but I know she couldn’t see it. Didn’t understand the way her hips beg me to bite them. Or that her soft tan skin is my weakness. I longed to touch her constantly. If just to touch her hand or hug her to my chest. Those were the moments that churned in my mind as I picked myself up off the ground. I needed a plan. Action to keep me from a downward spiral. Something to show Joey that I love her and didn’t mean anything I wrote. This needed to be big, but then again, Joey is simple and wouldn’t fall for any grand gesture. It needed to be something that would show and tell her all the things I’d been struggling to voice.
With determination filling my lungs, I tossed the old glass of bourbon along with the letters into the firepit and torched it. Setting flame to my mistakes, I think about my Grandad.
“What advice would you have for me, old man?”
I’m sure he would say, don’t bother. Women are too complicated, him having been divorced from my grandma my whole life. But with every pump of blood through my veins, I know I have to fight for her.
I loved the old man, but he was old and bitter and never once owned up to his mistakes. The realization hits hard. That my hero wasn’t the greatest man, I always thought he was. In fact, he was a grumpy asshole just like me.
Joey deserves better. She deserves to hear how much she is loved, and I won’t give up until I make sure she knows it. My heart be damned, I am going to tell her everything and pray she will forgive me. No matter how long it took. If we couldn’t find a way back to each other after this, she would at least know how great she was.
Now for a plan.
