“Nah.” Stone waited for him to bring up Arilyn, but the man seemed happy drinking and pondering life. “How are things?”
“Good. The center put on some comedy show. Ended up being pretty decent. They made fun of the old people instead of pussyfooting around stuff. Even Emma laughed, and she’s like a corpse.”
“And Mrs. Blackfire?”
“She’s joining us for Thanksgiving. Finally gave up on the Tree of Spite and promised me she wouldn’t give Arilyn crap anymore.”
“Great.” He waited. Still nothing. “Anything else.”
“Nope. What about you? Still taking extra shifts?”
“How is she?”
This time Patrick raised his brow. Gave him a hard stare. Stone took it all, lifting his chin and open to receiving any blistering insult he deserved. He was such a fuckup. He was the one who had broken up with her, yet he was desperate just to hear her name. Sometimes he said it aloud in his empty house. He’d called her damn cell phone from a blocked number, hoping to get her voice mail.
“Surviving,” Patrick answered. “She misses you but is pushing forward. Arilyn is a survivor. She’ll make it without you just fine.”
He muttered a curse under his breath. Took another large gulp of beer. “Yeah. I know. Better this way.”
“Actually, no. It’s not better. That’s just in your screwed-up head. Funny thing is, I get it. I’ve been there.”
“What do you mean?”
Patrick pushed a hand through his silver mane and stared at the wall. Seeing something no one else could. “The damn war. When I got back from Nam I was all sorts of messed up. I watched my buddies explode before me. Kids die. The stench and the heat and the feeling I’d never get out of there alive. War takes something human from you, and it’s difficult to get it back. Arilyn’s grandmother was the one who had to deal with it all. When things got serious, and I realized I loved her, I did terrible things. I hurt her bad in the name of protection. Told her over and over she was better off with someone whole, someone who could give her what she wanted.”
Every muscle tensed, waiting for the rest of the story. “What happened?” he asked.
Patrick gave a sigh. “I sent her away. But she just kept coming back. It was the damnedest thing. She just took that crap I dealt her and showed up on a regular basis. She knew I loved her, and she decided to stay in it for the long haul. It could’ve ended up differently, but thank God, something finally broke and I realized I was being an idiot. I’d gone through war. Seen the worst. Why couldn’t I also experience the best? Why deny myself a gift of a woman who loved me and my crap?”
He emitted a humorless laugh. “Men are different from women. We put these obstacles and expectations on ourselves, thinking we need to protect and always win the war. Sometimes you just don’t. Shit happens. Crime, divorce, and abuse. But I had a choice to try to do my best with the woman I loved. Yeah, I made tons of mistakes. But we were married for thirty-three years before I lost her. Worth it? Hell, yes.”
Stone stared at the man across from him, who had the gleam of misty memories in his green eyes, so like his granddaughter’s. “You know what, Stone? Sometimes it’s not as complicated as you think. If you love her, then just love her. Do your best. Why don’t you deserve something great, too? Because Arilyn really doesn’t need much from you except for you to try, and be there, and love her back. How’s that for expectations?”
The deep freeze that had taken root for over a week suddenly shifted. A sliver of the ice moved, melted, and suddenly the breath that hadn’t been there before eased back into his lungs. His heart beat a bit faster. Well, damn. What a concept. How was that for some enlightened Buddha shit?
Just love her back.
He already did. Yeah, it wasn’t gonna change his crap, but he had that part covered already.
He loved Arilyn Meadows. Heart and soul. And he loved that damn rat fink dog so much, if he didn’t get her back, he was gonna lose it.
As if knowing his emotions were about to implode, Patrick patted him on the back. “Got it?”
Stone shook his head. “Yeah. I got it.”
“Good.”
“You need a ride back to the center, Patrick? I have to make a call.”
“No, go ahead. I’m gonna play a round. Devine will give me a ride.”
“Thanks.”
Stone fumbled for his phone and headed out the door. The cold air whipped at his face, clearing his head, and without thinking, going on pure impulse, he dialed her number.
One ring. Two. Three.
“Hello?”
“It’s me. No, don’t hang up!”
The silence spoke volumes. Her usual musical voice was flat. “What do you want?”
“I want Pinky back.”
The endless words he ached to tell her backed up in his throat until only that one sentence spilled out. Maybe she’d understand what he meant. Pinky was the symbol of everything he wanted but never thought he deserved.
“You want Pinky back. Why?”
“I made a big mistake, Arilyn. Huge. Colossal. I’m coming over to pick her up and talk to you.”
“You’re drunk, aren’t you?”
“No! No, just a bit—not really. I had a few beers. But I’m not drunk.”
A small sigh puffed over the phone. “I get it, Stone, I really do. But I can’t do this. You get drunk, you feel lonely, you think you can handle it. I’ve been here before. You miss Pinky’s company and the way she adored everything about you, with no concept of asking for anything back except your attention. Trust me, in the morning it’ll all come flooding back, and you’ll back away again. I lived this dance, and I’m done. I’m sorry. Maybe you were right after all, and we’re better off apart. Including Pinky.”