I blow out a deep breath, ready to confess everything. But before I can form the words, he continues, “Because I know you. It doesn’t matter what the law says. You’re going to brood.”
Oh, right. Not, am I okay when it comes to Maggie? But, am I okay about what I was forced to do to George Sullivan? Am I okay being a man who’s taken lives? Am I going to be able to keep the candle of humanity burning at the center of my soul?
Looking down at the toes of my work boots, which are stained with paint and covered in sawdust, I admit, “There’s comfort in knowing I wasn’t given a choice.”
I’ve gone over it a million times. It was him or us. And for me (as for most folks, I imagine), that makes it a no-brainer. “Of course, until my dying day, I’ll always wish it coulda gone another way,” I add.
He throws an arm around my shoulders, and for a while we sip our beers in silence. We’ve settled onto his stoop after another hard day’s work on the cottage. (Which is our nightly ritual.) But tonight I convinced him to share a beer with me instead of guzzling the Gentleman Jack. At this point, I reckon any little bit helps.
The smell of burned ozone drifts toward us on the breeze. A warning that a rare winter thunderstorm is headed our way. Habit has me reaching for my phone to check the Doppler on my weather app, but before I can, Cash asks, “How’s Maggie doing with it all?”
The mention of her name reminds me of my earlier contemplations. Funny how my stomach can sink at the thought of George Sullivan and then turn around and soar at the thought of her. From despair to delight in two seconds flat.
“She’s all right, I think.” Then I shake my head and frown at the bottle in my hand. “Although, she’s been so worried about the charges against me, I don’t reckon she’s had much time to process.”
“Pssht.” He slices a hand through the air. “Process, shmocess. That shit’s overrated. Best just to put the bad stuff behind you and focus on the good stuff.”
I twist my lips. “Not everyone has your talent for living in denial.”
“It’s not denial,” he insists. “It’s the unique ability not to dwell.”
“Pah-tay-toe, pah-tah-toe.”
“Maybe you’re right.” He chuckles. Then, “So, what’s going on with the two of you anyway? I’ve noticed things are a little…tense. Maggie’s shoulders ride up around her ears when she’s around you now. Did something happen?”
Right. Okay. So here goes.
Except, before I answer his questions, I need to pose one of my own. “Are you really all right with only being Maggie May’s friend? I mean, if she started dating someone else, you don’t reckon you’d be jealous?”
“That’d be pretty hypocritical of me after what happened New Year’s Eve, don’t you think?” He absently picks at the label on his Abita.
I frown. “You mean how you were hanging all over Scarlet What’s Her Face at Miss Bea’s party?”
“I mean how Maggie caught me doing Scarlet What’s Her Face up against that wall to the left of the barn door.” He gestures over his shoulder with his beer, indicating the inside of the house.
My mind blanks. It feels like a sharp fingernail drags up my spine, making me sit up straighter. “What?”
A line forms between his eyebrows. “Didn’t she tell you? Figured that was why she was at your place that night when Sullivan arrived. Thought she ran straight to you to complain about what an ass I am. Although, in my defense, I didn’tmeanfor her to walk in on me nailing Scarlet. I was in the privacy of my own house, for fuck’s sake. And—”
Coldness starts at the top of my head and moves downward, as if all my blood is draining out through the soles of my feet.
“Hang on a second.” I lift a finger. “Are you saying Maggie May caught you making love to that woman?”
He snorts. “‘Making love’ is a bit of a stretch. We were screwing like bunnies.”
“For the love of living, Cash.” At this point, I’m not sure who I’m more upset with. Maggie for lying to me. Or Cash for being…well,himself.
“I know.” His expression is stricken. “It was awful. I’ll never forget the look on her face.”
“Whose face? Maggie May’s or Scarlet’s?”
“Maggie’s, of course. Don’t be a prick.”
Yeah, right.I’mthe prick. “So what happened to keeping our noses clean and our dicks dry?” I manage, even though my jaw is clenched tight around the words.
He makes a face. “You know what they say. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”
“Hey, y’all!” Maggie calls from the corner, a huge grin splitting her face.
