Page 29 of Stowaway Whirlwind
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I wish I could talk to Dad one more time, though I wouldn’t be able to face him any more than I could face myself or Goldie. He would ask me why I look like I’m knocking on death’s door. I would tell him what I had done. He’d likely ram his wheelchair into my shins, then have a nurse help him run me over, back and forth, and I’d welcome it. Tell him to do it again. And again. And again.
Russell knows something is up when I get to the warehouse. He follows me around like a mother hen as I run through my pre-inspection, peppering me with questions about my days home.
I lose my patience and whirl on him, trying to curb my irritation. I fail. “You need something, or can I get back to my job without you hovering?”
He crosses his bulky arms over his thick chest and asks me point blank, “Where’s your woman and the baby? They taken care of?”
“She’s not my woman. But yes, they are.” They’re even better off now that they’re out of reach of my depraved behavior. Goldie’s free to recover without me skulking around her, demanding things of her body right after giving birth. Even if she ever forgives me after all this, I’ll never forgive myself for putting my sexual desires above her health.
Russell tilts his head and sets his jaw before asking me—the same as he did when I first arrived with Goldie in tow—“You sureabout that?” When I nod, he clicks his tongue. “Guess you were right. Huh.”
I slap my clipboard against my thigh. “Right about what?”
“I thought we mighta had another Wyatt and Dolly situation, but Wyatt never woulda left Dolly, especially if she’d just had a baby.”
I want to burn the warehouse down to the ground. “Well, Wyatt doesn’t have to pay his mama’s bills. I’ve got other responsibilities he doesn’t.”
Russell puts his hands up. “Cool your jets, son. I’m not judging you.”
But he is. I can tell by the way he eyes me like he’s waiting for me to explode. Waiting to see if I’ll back out of the job like he and I both know Wyatt would. But Goldie isn’t Dolly, and I’m not half the man Wyatt is.
Right before I climb into my truck, I do something else I’m ashamed of. I let my anger get the best of me when I ask Russell, “Where’s your woman? She taken care of?”
His blue eyes turn to ice as he stares me down. “I ain’t got no woman.”
“You sure about that?” I shoot back. I click my tongue, mocking him, and cross a line that rightly deserves a fist to the face or worse. “Guess you’re right. Because if she were your woman, that’d mean you’re no Wyatt, either. He’d never let Dolly work like a dog, taking on a second and third job to pay for her surgery.”
Russell drops his arms and steps into me, head to head. He may be nearly twenty years my senior, but he’s got to have at least twenty pounds of muscle on me since he spends his time off the clock in the gym instead of out on the road.
“You’ve got no business talking about things you don’t know,” he growls.
I puff out my chest, not backing down. “You don’t either, old man.”
He jams his finger in my chest, forcing me to take a step back. “I oughta kick your ass, son.”
“I wish you would!”
Russell rocks back in his boots instead of knocking my head clean off my shoulders like he should for speaking to him the way I have. But he knows what I’m thinking. He doesn’t need to beat me up. I’m doing plenty of that to myself.
After climbing into my rig, Russell catches the driver’s side door before I can close it. “You and me. We have things to discuss when you get back.”
My stomach bottoms out, my angry bluster having evaporated. “You gonna fire me, Russell?”
He shakes his head. “I’ll see you in four weeks,” is all he says before he walks away.
By the time I make it to the border of Texas and New Mexico, I’m hollow. Like I’ve cut out pieces of my soul as I drive farther away from my girls and the decent man I thought I was before meeting Goldie. I’m left with nothing but the rotten dredges, long gone on the road I despise, sitting for hours upon days upon weeks in my loathing.
This is my penance.
Chapter 13
Goldie - 2 weeks later
There are two things I’ve come to understand about my mother since having Lily:
One—I finally understand why parenting must have been so overwhelming for her, especially since she was younger than me, and would make her want to take off, as awful as that is. Taking care of a baby is the hardest, most exhausting thing I’ve ever done. I’m barely holding it together, and Lily is only three weeks old. Three weeks! That’s nothing!
