Page 73 of A Taste of Chardonnay

I answered, hoping it was another case of missing knobs.

“Hi, Brady. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“No problem. What’s going on?”

“Your dad. He’s been good. Then, out of nowhere, he started accusing me of stealing from him.”

A sharp crash echoed through the phone, followed by an angry roar that twisted my stomach. Ron’s voice rose in the background, and my heart sunk in my chest. “I told you to get the fuck out of my house, you thief!”

“Sir, please,” the nurse pleaded, her voice tight with barely concealed panic. “I’m on the phone with your son.”

“My son?” he spat, as if the words were bitter on his tongue. Indistinguishable mumbles followed before turning into muttered curses and angry rambling that had my hold tightening on the phone.

“How have you handled other patients who have had episodes like this?” I asked.

There was a pause. Alongpause. Too long.

“Ron is my first one.”

My jaw clenched, my body a vibrating box of annoyance. “I was told you were experienced.”

“I’ve been in the business for three years, but my last client, while older, had all her faculties about her.”

“Why are you still here?” Ron’s voice grew louder, closer, more threatening, laced with a rage I hadn’t heard in years. A wave of flashbacks slammed into me, shooting ice through my veins. My mind was a battlefield of memories, no, nightmares, exploding open and dragging me to a hell I had long escaped.

I had no idea what he was capable of when he was in this state. If he slipped to the man he was years ago… if he lost control…

“You can go,” I said, my voice a mere growl. “I’m on my way.”

“I don’t want to leave him alone, sir.”

“I’m ten minutes away. He can’t possibly cause that much damage in that timeframe.” Another loud crash followed more cursing. “Go.”

“Do you want me to come back tomorrow?” The nurse's voice shook.

“I think it would be best if we get someone with a little more experience with dementia patients, but thank you for your time.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t a better fit.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Back in my truck, I hung up with the nurse and threw my phone with an angry pitch into the cup holder. Jack barked as it hit hard.

“Sorry, boy.” I gave him a scratch behind the ears. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do now. He was out of my life. My life was better then.” But then I thought of the last couple of months, of Chardonnay and the joy she’d brought to my days. I didn’t want her getting mixed up in this mess. I wanted her as far away from it as possible.

Ron’s place came into view, and I hit the gas to speed up a little. I cut the wheel and turned into the driveway. The nurse was long gone. The dust from her car was evident in the moonlight.

I took a deep breath before hopping out of my truck. Jack jumped down beside me, and I slammed the door. It was like being a teenager again, having no idea what the hell I was about to walk into.

Taking another steadying breath, I pushed the door open and stepped inside, afraid of what I would find. Shattered glass from what was once a bowl greeted me in the kitchen. My muscles tightened, every one of my instincts on high alert. The air was thick with a sharp scent——soup, onions maybe. A pot was left on the stove, the flame killed.

“Jack, stay.” I pointed to him, and he sat in place.

In the middle of the wreckage, chest heaving, eyes wild with confusion and fury, Ron stood.

His hands trembled at his sides, fingers clenching and unclenching into fists, as if he was internally battling between good and evil. He was slipping… spiraling.

“What happened?” I asked, keeping my voice steady.

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