I brush past her and head for the stairs. I need to lie face down on my bed for a bit. Maybe I’ll be able to regain my writing mojo if I get away from her.
But she doesn’t give up easily. She follows me, once again, and when she realizes I’m not giving in, she heaves a great sigh.
“He almost killed someone.” I freeze on the fifth step. “That’s why this is so important.”
I turn toward her slowly and am met with exactly what I expect. The joy on her face, with the relaxed pull of her posture, is criminal. It sends a shiver through my entire body.
“What?” It’s the only word I can manage to get out.
“He gave someone permanent brain damage. He went to jail for two years.” Once again, that corner of her mouth quirks. A quick flash before she schools her features into a mask of indifference. “Which is not enough time, in my opinion.”
I exhale in a huff. I try to reconcile this news with the image I have of Zander in my brain. The soft spoken, watchful, sweet man I know. I can’t picture him in that state of violence.
“Okay. Thanks.”
I don’t give Willow the satisfaction of a big reaction. I just go upstairs. It’s the longest walk to my room I’ve ever had. I close the door quietly behind me and lean against it.
What am I doing?
Why don’t I believe her?
I find my phone and stare at it. Texts from Zander litter the screen. I don’t know how to respond to them. I don’t want to look him up, even though I know I should. I don’t want to believe Willow, but she wouldn’t be saying this if there wasn’tsomethingI could find.
Zander’s sent me three messages, one joking along with me and the other two filled with anxiety over the fact I might not be joking. This man nearly killed someone?
Adelaide
Hey, can we talk tomorrow?
Chapter Ten
Zander
Iknow the second I get her message.
We’re done. Someone told her.
It doesn’t come as a surprise. I’ve heard it all before with hesitant smiles and comforting handholds. I don’t blame them. I know I deserve the snap judgement. I don’t deserve the space to explain or rationalize.
I just somehow believed Adelaide would see past all of it.
I know she hasn’t when she asks me to meet at the gazebo in the park. She wants to have this conversation in public because she doesn’t trust me in private. I won’t lie and say I’m not hurt by that. It stings. But I will do anything to make her feel comfortable.
Sunday morning, I park in Gran’s driveway and walk with Lucy to the park. Usually, she’d be trotting up ahead, smelling every lamppost and fire hydrant, greeting everyone who crosses her path. Today, she stays glued to my side. If I go home today depressed, disappointed, and a little heartbroken, at least I’ve been blessed with this dog.
I attempted to make myself as unthreatening as possible: generic pair of shorts, a half zip sweater, freshly shaved, old running shoes, my trusty sidekick dog, and a coffee. Maybe it has the intended effect. I don’t know. But my hand shakes holding Lucy’s leash.
I reach the gazebo before Addie, which is a curse. It gives me too much time to think. And overthink. And pace.
I drop Lucy’s leash when she lays down in one spot and refuses to move with me. Her eyes track me back and forth. A small whine escapes her. I pause. She raises her head.
“You’re too good to me,” I say.
She pants, gives me a golden retriever smile. I bend down to her and she presents her white-blonde belly. I chuckle and give her a good, long pat.
“Pretty girl,” I say as she wraps a paw around my arm, forcing me to stay right here instead of getting up to pace some more. “I get it. I’m not going anywhere.”
I plant my ass on the ground and Addie’s coffee down beside me. Lucy scrambles to maneuver herself into my lap, which sends me sprawling into the grass. Fifty pounds of dog lands on my chest and knocks the wind out me. Lucy frantically licks my face.
