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ChapterTwenty-Four
Gideon
I drink a Bloody Mary,but I don’t have it in me to sit in this tavern and drink all day. If I hear another song about a broken-down truck or a cold beer or moonshine, I might jump over the bar and jam my fist down the bartender’s throat. Nothing against country music. But when you walk away from the one thing in your life that really makes you feel good, the last thing you want is to hear some loser singing about it to remind you that you crashed and burned.
I wonder if Chloe calmed down after I walked out. Or if Skye went on the offensive. Like any other red-blooded, American guy, I normally like the idea of a catfight between two pretty girls. But when one of them is your sister and the other her best friend and the woman you’ve been sleeping with, it’s not a turn on. In fact, the longer I sit here and think about it, the sicker I feel over all of it.
I should have left Skye alone. I knew better than to get involved with her. I let the wrong head do the thinking. Made that mistake before a few times, but I haven’t learned my lesson. The one good thing is that Chloe didn’t come after me. There was a time when she would have. And while I appreciate her concern, I don’t need the mother hen routine. Haven’t for years.
Maybe Skye’s at her apartment telling her that.
Not Skye’s job to have that fight for me.
Part of me wishes Skye would have followed me.
That’s not necessarily the wrong head thinking; it’s my heart. Time to knock that off. That part of me has never made serious decisions. Not going to start that now.
I toss money on the bar to pay for my drink and leave the country twang behind. Nothing to do but walk back to Skye’s apartment. Pack up my things. Figure out where to go. I could hang out in The Hep Cat, although it’s not a residential building and not in a residential zone. Not sure what would happen if anyone figured out I was living out of the backroom in the store. I would hate to damage the reputation of Wamba’s place. Then again, maybe a night or two until I come up with a plan wouldn’t hurt.
There’s always my car. Wouldn’t be the first time I spent a few nights in it.
The hall is empty, and when I approach Skye’s door, the apartment sounds quiet. I wonder what that means. The door opens when I push it. No one in the kitchen. Lights are off, but late morning sunshine lights the apartment. Movement on the loveseat draws my attention. I flex my fingers, wondering if I should apologize to Skye or just pack up and go.
I take a few steps that way before I realize it’s Chloe. She looks up when I stop at the end of the counter. Dressed in loose sweats and an old concert t-shirt, no makeup, hair piled on top of her head, she looks exhausted. Guilt floods me again. Not only did I come between Chloe and her best friend, I walked away and left them to fight it out.
I might owe Chloe an apology, too. I decide not to get into it. I’ll pack and go to the Cat. Start scouring realty sites to find an apartment.
“Really?” Chloe says to my back.
I freeze and huff out a frustrated sigh.
“You’re not gonna say anything?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Where’ve you been?” She stands up as I turn to look at her.
“Out.”
I refuse to bend and fold myself into that odd little brother nook she keeps me in.
“Gideon.” She shakes her head. “No. I didn’t mean…” She stops talking and stares at me with glassy eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” she says again. “I never meant to…hover. Like I do. You never said anything. I didn’t know…”
“Didn’t know what?”
“That I was smothering you.” She shrugs.
“And how do you know that now?”
“She told me,” Chloe says simply.
I wonder where Skye is. Maybe it’s better that she’s gone. Clean break.
“Water under the bridge.”
