Page 72 of Missile Tow
“I’m back in town,” John replied, hesitating to come in further. “I was hoping we could talk.”
I’d bet you do. I’m happy and working on a new relationship, and yours went to shit. Of course, you came knocking.My internal dialogue was preventing me from giving him a dose of my pain. I wanted him to know how much I hurt after he did what he did.
I didn’t respond. Instead, I glowered at him.
“Ouch,” John reacted, glancing toward his truck in the driveway.
There you go. Back the fuck up and leave me alone.
I crossed my arms to let him know I had no time for an unannounced visit from a man who’d abandoned me a year ago.
“Would you like to come in?” Van asked.
Pooch was nearly having a heart attack once he remembered who John was. He jumped all over his true owner, spun around several times, and then tore off into the cabin.
“Well, at least Pooch is happy I’m here,” John said.
“Whatever,” I muttered, feeling a level of anger I hadn’t seriously considered possible.
I watched as Van tapped John’s elbow, nonverbally asking him for his jacket. John gave me a worried look.
“You sure?” he whispered to Van.
“I insist.”
John gave Van his outer jacket and the thermal vest he wore inside that. His expression told me he was having second thoughts about entering his former home.You’d be correct. Leave. Leave.Leave.I backed up and waited just inside.
“Maybe I should go.”
I glanced at Van, unable to disappoint him. “You may as well stay. You’re here anyway,” I said, suddenly feeling naked in boxers and a worn T-shirt. “Excuse me.”
After changing into sweats and a T-shirt, I returned to find John and Van standing in the middle of the room. I probably imagined it, but I swore John gave Van the once-over, raking Van’s body with his eyes.You’re insecure, Chip. Calm the fuck down.
“Please put some clothes on, Van. At least until John leaves.”
Van moved past me and disappeared into the bedroom. He found the robe behind the door and reappeared in less than ten seconds, just in time to witness me pointing toward the front door. He stepped beside me and gently pulled my arm down.
“Let’s hear why John stopped by,” Van appealed. Fire lit my face like a furnace. I was completely pissed by this point. “Please?” Van added.
I didn’t respond, but instead headed to a bar stool and then motioned for John to sit on the couch. “Two minutes,” I gruffed.
Uncomfortable silence fell like a blanket of snow on the room. No one dared to make eye contact with anyone. Van went to the kitchen to work on the stew in the hope he’d allowed enough space for us to speak privately. I didn’t want privacy.
“Van, can you please come next to me?” I asked.
He glanced back and forth between John and me, avoiding locking eyes with either. I’d recently watched one of those old western movies where gunslingers held a duel in front of the saloon, dust swirling off the dirt road. I recalled the stirring music and a hawk’s screech filling the speakers just before the gunfight. This felt like that movie.
Van made his way to my side, where I slid my hand into his. My desire to be discreet in front of John, while not disappointing Van, fucked with my anger DNA.
John smiled at us. “So, the news is true,” he said.Damn right it’s true.“I saw the BMW out front when I drove up. I figured as much.”
“I’m sorry,” Van said.
Him apologizing pissed me off further.Sorry for what?His kindness and respect for others were his motivation, but I was disappointed in him for saying sorry. So once again, I inhaled deeply and swallowed more of my nasty attitude.
“Don’t be sorry, Van,” John replied. “Chip is a single man.”
Hearing John use Van’s name with some familiarity troubled me. My need to protect Van from this bullshit was now disadvantaged, in my opinion. The two of them had met previously. My brain hated the fact. Every molecule in my body hated the fact. Not sure why, though.
