Page 14 of Redemption
I can admit I’m probably not a patient man to begin with, but when I look around and see a minimum of five new holes in my yard, I’m afraid I might lose it.
My nose aches, and puffiness is spreading into my eyes. I have over fifteen missed calls from my mother, who I’m sure has heard the news by now, and, on top of everything, I’ll be spending my day off cleaning up holes so I don’t break my ankle the next time I mow.
Irritation does not come close to describing what I’m feeling.
“If you weren’t Langston’s dog, I’d take you to the pound,” I say, squinting my eyes to glare at him.
He’s unbothered by my grumpiness and merely cocks his head as he stares at me with his tongue hanging out.
Heaving a sigh, I reach out to scratch behind his ears before going inside.
I’ve been waiting all day to get these clothes off. The collar of my uniform is stiff with my blood, and I can still smell MJ’s perfume on my shirt, where I held her while she had a panic attack. Images of her face turning pale as she fought to catch her breath swirl through my head, causing a knot to form in my stomach.
How long has she been having those? Has she dealt with them alone the whole time she’s been gone?
Shaking my head to clear the images, I grab a water bottle from the refrigerator and head toward the hall that leads to my bedroom, untucking my shirt from my pants as I go.
The hardwood floor in the hallway squeaks under my weight, and the light flickers overhead—another thing I need to get around to looking at.
I bought this house a year ago. It’s too big for one person, but I didn’t think twice about buying it when it came up for auction. I’ve passed it every day for years, appreciating its colonial beauty, and at one point, I dreamed about a family living here with me—a wife sitting on the sun porch as I chased around our babies, but that dream faded. Now, I’m content to listen to the solitude these halls offer, even if it is just one big money pit, always needing updates.
I strip off my undershirt inside my bedroom, throwing it at the laundry basket in my closet. The doorbell rings as I walk towards the en-suite to turn on the shower.
“That lasted long,” I huff as I spin back to the closet and grab a clean t-shirt, pulling it over my head before returning down the hallway to the front door.
I should have been expecting this. There’s no way anyone in this town would let go of the biggest piece of gossip that’s happened all year—though it’s anyone’s guess who’s at my front door. Heck, I wouldn’t be surprised if it is the whole town at this point.
I’m waging war with myself on whether I should open the door or pretend I’m not home when an incessant banging comes from the other side. At that, the possibility of who is standing on the other side narrows to one—only one person can be that annoying.
Wrenching open the door, I leave my hand on the knob and block the entrance with my body. In front of me stands Campbell, with a grin that is nothing less than mischievous. His hands are hidden behind his back as he stands there, grinning at me like I’m the funniest thing in the world.
“What do you want?”
“Well, hello to you too, sunshine,” he beams. My gruffness does nothing to deter his cheer—unfortunately, because I’m in no kind of mood.
Stepping back, I move to shut the door in his face, but he’s quicker and places his foot in the jamb, pulling his hands out from behind his back as he does. In one hand he has an ice pack, and in the other, there’s a bag of take-out from the diner downtown.
He shakes the bag, and the smell of the food wafts toward me. My stomach growls, and Campbell’s grin grows wider.
“Ditch the ice pack and bring in the food,” I say, rolling my eyes at his antics but still opening the door wider and stepping back for him to slip in.
He darts in, faking a punch to my stomach before rushing into the kitchen. I swear, the man has the brain of a teenager in the body of a twenty-eight year old.
“We aren’t talking about it while you’re here either,” I call after him.
“Oh yes, we are,” he calls back. At the same time, a bang resounds in the kitchen.
Looking towards the ceiling, I pray for patience.
Campbell is the funny guy of our trio…well, duo now. I was always the serious one of our group, the perpetual grump. Langston was the bridge between my personality and Campbell’s. With that bridge gone, Campbell and I constantly grate upon the other’s nerves. Despite that, though, I would be there for him in a heartbeat if he needed me, and I know the same goes for him.
Walking into the kitchen, I find him already set up at my bar, pulling out container after container of food. When they are all set up, he lifts the lid of each one before taking a fork and digging in.
“Well,” he urges around a mouth full of food, “you gonna tell me about that shiner you have?”
He picks up some fries, and I steal them out of his hand, shoving them in my mouth to buy me time.
“Dangers of the job. You know that as well as I do.”
