“Such an idiot,” she repeated.
I shrugged. “I agree.” Then I cleared my throat because I was an idiot too. “What’re we going to do about Kim?”
“I’ll call Suzie back up. I have a plan.”
“Of course you do,” I said.
“We’ll talk to her when she gets back, but whatever it is she needs, we’ll be there for her.”
I nodded. I missed this. This devotion to friendship.
“She needs to decide for herself,” Gretchen said. “No more controlling. When she’s ready for us, we’ll be there.”
I grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Good plan.”
“But also, I might have to take a bat to that dipshit Roddy’s precious car.”
Chapter 27
Sanders
I hadn’t expected to return to Green Valley until I had a plan. I sure as hell hadn’t expected to be back at a hospital so soon. The smell of disinfectant made my stomach sour. The squeak of shoes in the halls brought me back to those final moments with my father. My skin itched to leave, my palms sweated. But I was done making decisions for me. Or rather, I was done making decisions based on fear. I took a breath and pushed into the hospital room.
My throat tightened at the sight of him. His leg was in a cast, rigged to balance a foot off his bed using some sort of medieval-looking device. His color was not great and his beard and hair were more than a little unkempt, even for him.
My face must have betrayed the pain I felt seeing Skip like this. Seeing him off his feet took me by surprise. He was the one that was strong and steady.
“I’m going to be fine,” Skip said. “You didn’t have to come all the way down here.” He faced the window and didn’t turn to look at me when he spoke.
“Come on, mate,” I spoke softly.
Skip and I had hardly seen each other most of July and August. With September coming to an end, I realized how far we’d grown apart. Once he moved out, I focused on wrapping up any other loose ends with Outside the Box. When we had spoken, it was brief and only about the crumbling business. We didn’t talk about partnering with the Lodge. We didn’t talk about the future of the business in Green Valley at all. I didn’t even know he had come back here until I got the call from Ford of all people to tell me.
I’d fucked up so big I didn’t even know how I was going to salvage our friendship. Or if I could. All this time I had felt like I had to deal with my suffering alone, so I pushed everyone away. Now that I really was alone, I realized that I’d been an idiot.
“Of course, I’m here,” I said.
He glared at me. Finally. I was happy to see the anger. Anger was better than neutrality. Apathy scared me more than hatred.
I pulled the uncomfortable wooden chair next to his bed and sat down. “I hate this. I hate everything I’ve done. I hate seeing you like this,” I said. Emotion made my throat tight. I wouldn’t try to hide it though. I spent enough time pretending to be fine when I was suffering.
“Sucks, doesn’t it?” Skip asked. “Seeing somebody you care about in a hospital bed?”
I held his gaze and nodded. I knew were this was going.
“Imagine seeing it all the time. Imagine seeing the most important person to you in the world, constantly putting themselves in danger, making stupid choices and not giving a shit how it impacted those around them,” he said.
“I know. I’ve been so selfish. I’m sorry. I’ve been talking to a therapist. I know I was putting myself at risk because I—I didn’t want to go out like my father. And losing my mom so suddenly. I guess it messed with me in ways I didn’t even recognize. But I never did it to hurt you.”
“Yeah, but you did,” he said.
“I’m so sorry.”
“You didn’t care,” he said. “You never cared enough to call before you left. To say where you were going. But I was always there, wasn’t I? Walking behind you, sweeping up the pieces all too eagerly. You let me.” It was the most vehement I’d seen Skip. It seemed he had changed as much as I had while we were apart.
I swallowed. Nothing he said was a lie.
“We’re done with this, Sanders,” he said. His arms were crossed and he was focused on the blank screen of the television.
“What?” I asked with a dry, cracking voice.
“This enabling of each other.” His ears and cheeks reddened.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
He wouldn’t look at me. His chest was heaving with anger and his chin quivered. “I deserve better,” he said.
“Fuck yes, you do. I want you to be happy. You deserve everything.”
He sniffed once and looked at me tentatively.
“I needed you when Dad died. And you left.”
I balled my fists until it hurt. “I’ve been so selfish.”
“I know you were in pain. I was hurting too,” he said.
“I’m not gonna do it again, mate. I’ll show you in a hundred ways. Whatever you need.”
Skip sighed. “I think it’s time to close down OTB.” He gathered his breath. “No. I know that I don’t want to do OTB anymore. It was always your passion and not mine.”
“Okay.” I sensed it was coming but it still stung. It really was the end of an era. “We will work out the details when you’re better. There aren’t any clients right now anyway.”
We sat in silence until, after a few minutes, he asked, “You’re talking to someone?”
“Yeah. They’re helping me work through some shit.”
“Good. You’re allowed to be more than one thing, Sanders. I’m your best friend for who you are, not because you can charm a car salesman out of his coat.”
I fought to keep my features smooth when he said “best friend” but the relief was so immense that I couldn’t hide a tremor in my
