Page 62 of Jensen
“As a professional avoider of my own shit, yeah, you do,” he says. “It might be time to stop looking over your shoulder. Time to stand and deliver.”
I take the phone from my ear for a moment to myself. When I put it back up, I can hear he’s still on the other end.
“I’m going back,” I say. “I’ve decided.”
“I’ll send the horses and have the safehouse set up for you. I still have contacts in the area.”
“What do you want for it?”
Jack Russell never makes a deal for free, not even for friends. As one of the best assassins in the country, he knows his worth, and he sticks to it.
“You’re good,” he yawns.
“What?”
“I said, you’re good. It’s nothing.”
He hangs up, and I know he won’t take another call tonight. Slowly, I pull my phone from my ear and stare down at it. Is it a bad sign Jack is doing me a favor for nothing? Is he expecting me to not come back?
Confused, I go back inside and climb the stairs to my bedroom. She’s asleep, curled up in a ball under the covers. I sink down in the chair by the open window and have a Camel because, despite how many I’ve had in the interim, they still take me back.
They taste like home, the place that made me who I am.
It runs through my veins like blood. Deep down, there was always a part of me that knew I’d go back. The mountain of shit I left behind was too big to just walk away from. I don’t think I’ve been at peace a day in my life, not until I saw her at the stockyards.
Maybe there’s a chance Della Caudill, with all her baggage that turned out to be mine too, is a shot at fixing things.
I like her, a lot.
There’s a future in my mind’s eye where we have all the things normal couples do, the things my friends have now. God, they look so damn happy. In my mind’s eye, I wake up, go out to take care of the ranch. She’s in the kitchen when I get back, having her coffee. There’s a faceless little boy sitting at the table.
My eyes snap open. Cold sweat trickles down my temple.
Is that what I want?
I don’t have to answer that. From the very beginning, that was what I’d always wanted. The Crisco tin was never about money. The money was never about the truck. The truck was never about thebusiness. It was all about making a home where somebody loved me and I got to love them back.
I’m sick of the barely-getting-by-kind of home. I need the real thing.
If I want a shot with Della, I have to help her. If I want a shot at ever finding peace, I have to help myself.
No more running. I hate to admit it, but Jack’s right. From here on out, it’s time to stand and deliver.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DELLA
He’s quiet and distant the next day. I understand; I’m lucky he’s even speaking to me after all the lying. But it still hurts that the romance between us had to be put on hold.
He doesn’t touch me, not like he did before, when I go into the bathroom to get dressed. He just buttons his shirt, glancing at me in the mirror.
Then, he walks out.
I didn’t expect instant forgiveness—we were lost in a honeymoon glow before, and now, there’s a wound that will need a lot of fixing. The silver lining is, he appears to have a plan, and that gives me hope that if he does pull through, there could be a second chance.
It makes sense he’s angry about being deceived. What doesn’t make sense is his visceral reaction to Brothers Boyd.
Something big went down there. He told me he and Jensen used to work together, that he was the best of the best, the only man who could face down the Caudills. He also told me the Caudills did something terrible to Jensen a long time ago.
