Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 114192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“Whatever you want, man.” As I respond, Robert rolls the window down, closing his eyes and letting the breeze hit him. I imagine he’s trying to stay awake. He had to have drank half that damn whiskey. When he pinches the bridge of his nose, I know he’s crying again.
Why couldn’t he just be a prick?
Debating whether or not I should make a joke about not getting sick in the truck, I watch him stare out the window while telling me it’s just five blocks up, make a right and it’s the hangar down the road. All the while he pretends he’s not crying. So I don’t say shit. I give the man space.
I wish I had something more to say to him, but I’m not sure he’s in the right mind to hear it anyway, so I turn up the radio and we drive in silence.
As we get to the first red light on Main Street, he catches me off guard with a comment spoken so low I don’t know if he meant for me to hear it or not. He drunkenly slurs, “How did I ever stand a chance? You’re Bridget’s dad. You didn’t fuck up. She was never going to pick me.”
The music and the window being down didn’t help to keep him awake, though. By the time I get to the hangar, ten minutes later, Robert is passed out.
Luckily, Asher’s standing out in front of his shop and sees. At first his gaze was questioning. The moment of clarity is quickly followed by a downcast look.
“You doing all right?” he asks me as I turn off the truck and he approaches. His gaze slips right by me to Robert.
“He asked to come here,” I tell him although my tone implies it’s a question.
“You kick his ass?” Asher asks and judging by the look on his face, he’s serious. There’s not a hint of emotion there, it’s just him wanting to know.
In my silence, he questions, “Or is … did he have a little too much?”
“A little,” I say, finally opening my door, and get a gust of fresh air. I make my way around to the passenger side with Asher as he tries to wake Robert up, but it’s not happening.
“You get his legs, I get his arms?” I offer and Asher nods.
“You tell anybody?” he asks me as he opens the door up as wide as it can go.
“No.”
He gives me an expression I can’t place; some part defensive, some part hurt. “Could you not? If it could stay between us, I’d appreciate it.”
“I don’t plan on telling anyone.” Griffin doesn’t even know I’m here. No one knows, and no one has to.
“Magnolia?” he asks.
“I’m not going to lie to her, but I don’t have to tell her.”
“Good, good,” he mutters and inhales deep before grabbing his half of Robert’s limp frame.
“Shit,” I curse through gritted teeth as I help carry him inside. There’s a room in the back of his shop and as I take a look around, it reminds me of a hangout Griffin and I used to have.
“You—”
“It’s for him.”
I have to take a second to puzzle out what Asher just said. “For Robert?”
“Look, I know you don’t owe me anything. But … he hasn’t been doing well with family things. His mom’s not well.”
“So he comes here?”
“He hasn’t wanted to be alone. And with you,” he gestures, “he didn’t want to put stress on Magnolia, going over there and ‘bringing her down,’ as he put it.”
I stand there, not knowing what to say other than, “I don’t really know anything about him.”
“He’s a good man, a good friend of mine. He’s … shit, he’s fucking rock bottom.” Asher looks at his friend sleeping on an unmade bed and then back to me before saying, “He’s going through a lot, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t hold whatever he’s said or done against him. I know you and Magnolia … I know you two are together.”
“I love her.”
Asher nods, motioning to the front of the shop where a porch wraps around the side. It’s obviously a newer addition. “You want a drink, lover boy?” he jokes and then smiles. Now he’s much more like the first version I met of him. Light and funny.
“I should get back I think,” I tell him, feeling out of place and honestly like shit after seeing the state Robert’s in. I turn toward my truck, still parked out front but his voice stops me.
“You know … I just want to say,” Asher tells me, turning serious again. “And I’m only telling you because I believe you when you say you love her. And Robert’s my friend.”
“I get that,” I say and nod, squaring my shoulders as I face him.
“His mom, Robert’s mom, she has good days.”