Page 29 of Losing a Piece of Me

His eyes squint and his brows pull together. “I’m trying to figure out if you caught your fish.”

I look at my coffee and shake my head again. When I was growing up, Pops used to tell me that there were ‘plenty of fish in the sea’ whenever I would come home from school, heartbroken after being rejected by whichever girl I had professed my love to that week, and it was a saying that always roused a chuckle from both of us.

“Oh, I caught her alright. Catch and release.”

He seems taken back. He stands up straight and pulls over his barstool, which he positions right in front of me and sits down. “I know I’m getting old, Strike, but it sounded like you said catch and release.”

I nod. “That’s what I said.”

His hand flies unseen through the air, faster than my eyes can follow it, but I feel it sting as it pops me on the back of the head.

I jump and rub the sore spot. “What the hell was that for?”

“Have you lost your ever-loving mind? Why’d you go and do a thing like that?” His bushy, gray eyebrows furrow together, casting a shadow over the wicked gleam in his eyes.

“She’s just not ready.” Pops remains motionless as I sip my coffee. He just sits there across from me, watching and waiting for me to continue.

Fuck, it doesn’t look like I’m going to get out of this.

“We hooked up last night.”

“When you say ‘hooked up’ you really mean…”

A small chuckle leaves me. “We slept together.”

He nods, urging me on.

“When I woke up, she was gone.” I shrug.

“What? You just let her go? You didn’t go after her?”

“I did go after her. I found her at the country club. She’s leaving, going back to wherever the hell she’s been hiding. She wasn’t going to tell me goodbye. Again. Fuck, it feels like I’m eighteen again.”

My head dips forward into my hands.

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe she doesn’t tell you goodbye because she can’t?”

I scoff. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“She loves you, Striker. She doesn’t tell you goodbye because it would hurt her too much.”

“But just up and leaving, and staying away for years at a time doesn’t bother her?” My blood is starting to boil again, and my voice drips with an acidic edge.

“I didn’t say it makes sense.” Pops stands and moves his bar stool back into the corner. He picks up a white towel and begins wiping the counter as people start filing into the diner. It’s going on noon and the old booths and chairs will soon be full of church-goers, hungry after a morning spent sitting in pews.

I take one last sip from my coffee and slide it over. “I’ll get out of your hair. Put that damn check somewhere safe before you lose it.” I point at him as I make my way toward the door.

As I’m walking to my bike, my phone rings and I pull it from my pocket. “Hello?”

“I got us four more crew members,” Jordan says excitedly over the line.

“Damn, four?” I sit on my bike but don’t start it. “Who all did you get?”

“Mark, Seth, Garett, and Shaun. Billy wants to come to, but I figured you wouldn’t want his dumb ass on your crew.”

I laugh. Billy can’t show up sober. He fucks around most of the day. I think the only reason Vick let him stay on his crew was to have a gopher. His official job duties included such hard-hitting tasks as picking up coffee and lunch for the rest of the crew, and running back and forth to the lumber yard whenever we needed something.

“Sounds good. I’m just about to jump on the bike so I need to get off here. I pick up the check tomorrow and, for a few months, I’ll be running the company out of my garage until I can find a good-sized utility van or trailer to store the tools in. I’ll be in touch.”

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