Reality has arrived.
We have to go into town. Jo has a doctor’s appointment today to have her foot rechecked, and we’re all hoping this is the day she’s cleared to take off the walking boot. Hopefully, we weren’t too rough. That I wasn’t too rough.
I have to open the hardware store this morning, and Clay is coming with me while he waits for the information he needs. Life moves forward in small, practical steps, while hers feels stuck in place.
Her situation pisses me off. That someone else has this much power over her life. Actually, two dead people are still pulling her strings, dictating her choices.
Forcing her to run. To be alone.
It’s cruel. And where’s her family? Her friends? The people who should’ve caught her when she fell. When this all started happening.
We didn’t push for answers. What she shared was already heavy enough, and I could see how much it cost her to say it out loud. But she needs someone to talk to. It doesn’t have to be us—maybe it shouldn’t be—but I’m going to try to help her find someone.
She needs time to heal. To figure out how to live again. To make choices for herself without fear holding her back. Jo has too much spirit to be trapped like this. I know she has dreams; places she wants to go, things she’s always wanted to try.
And then there’s Clay.
That’s what worries me most. He’s clearly smitten, and that scares me. This can’t be forever. I doubt she’d even consider something like that. Sure, this has been fun. She’s smart and sexy, and her fire is unmatched.
But these kinds of relationships don’t work.
Do they? Would I even consider it?
I love my husband. He’s all I’ve ever needed. He’s my everything.
“Let’s go.”
I shake my head, trying to quiet the spiral of my thoughts. The air is sharp as he helps Jo into the truck. The ride to the clinic is quiet, tires humming over pavement. We drop her off out front.
“Have a great appointment,” I tell her. “I hope they let you ditch the walking boot.”
“Thanks. Me too.” She smiles, then adds, “I’ve got a few errands to run after.”
“Let us know when you’re done,” Clay says, his voice careful as he helps her down. “We’ll give you a ride. I still don’t think you should be alone.”
“I’ll let you know.”
She closes the door. The sound feels final.
I look at my husband. Hope flickers across his face, and my heart tightens because I already know. She isn’t coming back home with us. Our time with her is over. I feel it.
Clay is quiet on the drive to my store. I lace my fingers through his, squeezing his hand, trying to say I’m here, but I need more.
I need my husband. I will always need him.
He’s a few steps ahead of me as we walk into the hardware store. The familiar smell of wood, metal, and dust wraps around me like an old friend. I don’t turn on the lights. Not yet. The pale morning glow through the windows is enough for now.
I tug his hand, stopping him in the corner, right where I want him.
“Love, I want you.” I pause to kiss him. “I need to feel you.” It feels like forever since I've been inside my husband. I know it's not, but with Jo in our bed, I want to make sure our connection isn’t shaken. That he isn’t forgetting us.
“Now? Here? Aren't you about to open?” Clay looks around, as if people will be coming in at any moment.
“We'd better make it quick then," I smirk. “That will only make it hotter.” Working at the store always gives me plenty of ideas and sometimes too much time on my hands. I pull him over, tying his wrists together with the rope I have ready and securing them to the well-placed carabiner above his head.
“I knew this would be perfect,” I whisper more to myself.
“Were you thinking about me at work?” His smile widens.