Page 274 of Love in Riverbend
I nod and turn my attention to Justin. “How you doing?”
He shakes his head. “I’m fucked up. I fucked up.”
My lips curl. “It’s a mess, but it’s fixable.”
Justin turns his face away.
I step closer. “This could be a lot worse than a leg.”
The muscles in his face flex as he clenches his jaw.
“Talk to me.”
Justin turns back in my direction, his eyes blazing. “If I was dead, at least she’d get insurance money. This—” he motions toward his leg “—I promised to take care of her. I told you I would. Now, I’ve fucked it all up.”
“You did promise me. I expect you to keep your word.”
He lays his head back and stares up at the ceiling. “The life I never knew I wanted was right here. It’s gone.” He turns to me. “Do you know we’ve been talking about kids? What a fucking joke. I can’t even support Devan and myself.”
“How long are they talking?” I ask. “Until you’re back on your feet?”
Justin shakes his head. “No one has said a damn thing.”
“Well, here’s the thing,” I say, pulling a chair up beside the hospital bed. “You’ve never lied to me.” Justin’s gaze comes my way. “So I fully expect you to get better and keep your word—to me, to Devan, to your dad, and to the bank.” His eyes close. “And while you’re getting better, you’re going to have to put up with my sorry ass.”
Justin’s forehead furrows. “What? Why?”
“I’m moving in with you. So, that honeymoon you and Devan had is over. I figure this is January. By late summer, you’ll be back to your usual miserable self, and that’s when I was supposed to graduate. I’ll save money getting rid of that apartment, and I’ll let you and Devan feed me.”
“No fucking way.”
“Did I ask?”
“Shit,” Justin says, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “What about working for that firm, the one where Marilyn works? And what about Marilyn?”
“I didn’t get the job.”
“You didn’t? Marilyn told Devan she thought you would.”
I shrug. “Nope. Divine intervention. I’m jobless, and you have a job for me to do.”
Justin closes his eyes, drops his chin forward, and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
I go on. “I’m going to need to understand where everything stands. You’ll need to give me your passwords so I can access all your reports, your proposed P&L, and your bank accounts.”
“You going to rob us?” Devan asks, coming from the bathroom. She’s wearing clean clothes, and her hair is wet.
“No,” Justin says. “He’s moving in.”
Devan’s eyes widen. “What about your job?”
“I didn’t get it.”
Her shoulders slump. “Rick, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I have a new job—it’s called foreman of the Sheers farm.”
Seven hours later, my back and neck ache, but I’ve gotten myself up to speed on Justin’s financials. I lean back against the office chair that used to belong to my father and scroll through more financial reports on Justin’s computer. I’ve made notes and checked prices for seed, pre-emergent herbicide, fertilizer. Calculating the amount needed of each and multiplying that by the number of acres. I’ve been sitting here since a little after ten this morning.
