Silence.
“She needs you, man.”
I sit on the edge of the bed. “She’s fine.”
“She’s not fine, not even close to fine. She’s heartbroken,” he says firmly.
“She’s Silvie. She’s built for this life. She’ll bounce back and be okay,” I reason.
“She needs you,” he shoots back. “Look, I can’t explain it. But you two? You are it, man. IT.”
Silence again stretches between us and I close my eyes.
Then he says, “I can send the jet.”
I let out a breath. “Wilby.”
“I’m serious. You can be here by tonight. And fix her! She needs you.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“I have a life here. I have to take care of my mom.”
There’s a pause, then he says calmly, “Cal.”
“I’m not leaving my mom.”
“You’re not abandoning her. Listen, she has the Bees all lined up. Silvie got her to sign up for her first therapy appointment. She’s been out on the porch twice. She’s made progress.”
I swallow, heart pattering wildly in my chest. I didn’t know any of this. I guess you miss a lot while wallowing in self-pity.
“I can’t,” I say again, but it comes out weaker now.
“Are you staying for Carly,” Wilby asks carefully, “or are you hiding?”
That lands harder than it should. Because I think he’s right. Damn it. I know he’s right.
“I’ve gotta go,” I mutter.
He sighs. “If you change your mind, the jet’s ready.”
I hang up.
That afternoon, when I get to the bar, Jonah is there, his arms folded as he watches me walk toward him.
Jonah is never behind the bar. He hasn’t worked at the bar in over five years. He gave it to me to manage, and he’s taken a hands-off approach. I run it all, make all the decisions, and he lets me have free will.
“You look like crap,” he says as his eyes scan my face.
“Hello to you, too,” I say as I grab a few dirty dishes off a table and set them in the bin.
“We need to talk.”
I pause and straighten. “This sounds serious.”
He looks at me. “It is serious. You are messing up.”
