Page 82 of Silent Is The Heart

It’s barely after lunch, so I shouldn’t even be expecting Aaron to bring the SUV by yet. I don’t know how long it takes to make arrangements to have a dead person transported across state lines, but I doubt it’s a speedy process. I want to believe that he’s simply worried about me freezing my ass off on my motorcycle, but after the shit I said the other day, paranoia is kicking my ass.

He was so subdued on the phone yesterday, almost vacant. Maybe it was just the shock over what happened to Jason, but returning my vehicle the day after doesn’t bode well. It feels like it would be a loss of connection to him. I don’t revel in him needing anything from me, but I would really appreciate excuses to see him in the near future. Was he just being polite yesterday on the phone? Will I represent memories of Jason for him now that Jason’s actually gone for real this time?

Worse yet, maybe he could only deal with so much in one day. Yesterday was to process that his husband was founddead—again. Today is for returning the vehicle to the unstable boyfriend he wants to get rid of to reduce the rest of the drama in his life.

I didn’t mean it… Any of it.

Well, I believe the part I said about me being no good, but I didn’t mean the rest of what I told him when he found me the other day. I’ll never love anyone but him. If there is such a thing as love, Aaron is it for me.

Two quick knocks resound on the wall of my station. I look up to find Wolf not looking like a crab ass for once. He’s left me a wide berth since the robbery. Right now, though, he looks like he’s about to tell me someone died.

“What?”

“Aaron asked me to give these to you.”

Watching his arm extend, I stare at the keys to my Suburban in his hand. Why would he give them to Wolf? Excusing myself with the customer, I rise and take them from him, glancing around the shop.

“Where is he?”

“He pulled in out back when I was getting out of my van. He got in a truck with some guy and just asked me if I could give these to you.”

He didn’t even come in to talk to me. Something tells me I won’t need to worry about glancing at the door anymore. I blew it. It’s over.

I’m not sure what this sleeve looks like by the time I finish, but the man doesn’t complain. Hopefully, there was some sense of autopilot engaged in my brain from years of tatting that allowed me to create something presentable for him. I try to sound cordial, explaining the aftercare process to himand about making arrangements with Shannon to schedule his color work, but it all sounds like a monotone mumble.

My phone rings, making my pulse jolt, so I excuse myself quickly. Please be Aaron. Please.

It’s some number I’ve never seen, sending my heart right back into the pit of my stomach.

“Hello?”

“Is this Easton Bennick?”

“Yes.”

“Hi, this is parole officer Dobbs. I’m looking for Leonard Bennick, and he had you as his point of contact for his last known address.”

Like I needed another reminder of Leonard right now. Sighing, I rub the bridge of my nose. “Yeah. Well, Iwaswhen he was staying here, but he checked into the Siever Halfway House a few days ago.”

“Well, that’s the problem. He didn’t show up for work yesterday or today, and I checked with Siever halfway. He hasn’t been there since yesterday afternoon according to their sign-in logs. I was wondering if he might have gotten in contact with you since then.”

‘I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a thief.’The adamant declaration doesn’t sit the same with me now as when I left that tired building full of men with broken dreams. Did he put that picture up on the wall locker just to throw me for a loop? More of his father of the year façade? Because he had to have known he would be the first person I came looking for once I found out my safe had been emptied.

“No,” I try not to laugh. “I haven’t seen him.” And now I doubt I ever will again.

???

“You sure you’re all right here? I don’t mind closing,” Wolf says, sounding as tired as I feel.

“I’m fine. Go on. You’ve got enough shit to deal with. You done packing up the house yet?”

Frowning, he shakes his head and fidgets with the business card display on the reception counter while I zero out the register. “I got sidetracked.”

Oh, boy. Here we go again. It’s good, honestly. I need something to distract myself from what’s going through my mind.

“What’s her name?” I tease.

The frown becomes a full-on scowl. “Nothing. Her name is nothing.”

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