Page 15 of A Taste of Chardonnay

“Yeah, well, I didn’t trust you to get home.”

“I appreciate your concern.”

“Don’t get it wrong. My concern was for the other people on the road.”

“I guess I deserve that.”

“You deserve a hell of a lot more, but it’s still too fucking early, and I have to get my ass to work.”

I slipped from the car and slammed the door. Jack jumped through the window of the truck and came to a stop at my feet. I glanced at Franc, and he shrugged.

With a pat on Jack’s nape, I waited for Ron to exit the car. I didn’t want to give him his keys back. I didn’t want to get a call in a couple hours from someone telling me he couldn’t find his way home again.

I looked at the house. It was like a memory frozen in time. The broken shutter had been fixed, the door painted with a fresh coat of white paint, and the grass was cut recently.

“Thanks for this,” he said as he shut the door and shuffled toward the house. He walked up the few steps and went to open the door, but I was holding his keys. He patted his pockets, and I shook my head as I made my way to his door.

I unlocked the deadbolt and pushed the door open. A loud hiss greeted me, and I glanced down to see a black cat baring its teeth and swatting the air toward Jack.

“Back off, cat,” I growled. “Jack, go to the truck.”

Jack let his head fall, and he pathetically meandered to the truck.

“It’s okay, Fanny.” He picked up the black hissing beast and scratched it under the chin. The cat snuggled into him, and I stared at how gentle he was. Gentler than he ever was with his own flesh and blood.

“Here.” I dropped the keys into his palm. “Call that number and set up an appointment.”

I made my way back to my truck, and Franc met me at the front.

“Everything okay?”

“Fucking wonderful. Let’s get the hell out of here.” I opened the door, shooed Jack to the backseat, and hopped into the driver’s seat. Putting the truck in drive, I couldn’t get away from that house fast enough.

I turned off the street that held so many conflicting emotions and continued toward Franc’s house. Quinn had dropped him off at the coffee place before she headed to the school with Gio in tow.

“Want to talk about it?” Franc asked.

“No.”

“Enough said.”

“He has a cat.”

Franc glanced at me, eyebrows drawn together. “Sorry?”

“A cat. He has a damn cat. He couldn’t even take care of himself, let alone a son, and now he has a cat.”

“A lot can change in twenty years.”

“And the fucking thing hissed at me as if I was some monster. Me! When it was all up in Ron’s arms, like he was some sort of safe space.”

“He’s been sober for years. You don’t know the man he is now.”

“Does it matter? I know the worst of him.”

“I’m not saying what he did to you can be justified, but it seems he’s made changes in his life. He’s not the monster you knew.”

“It’s still in him. It always will be.”

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