Page 92 of Luck of the Devil
I could have pointed out that Lorazepam was a Schedule IV controlled substance—illegal to possess without a prescription. A misdemeanor for me, but a felony for him if caught distributing.
But I’d already crossed so many lines, this seemed like nothing. That wasn’t the part that stopped me.
“So, I’m trading one vice for another,” I said bitterly.
He gave me an impatient look. “If you were in rehab, you’d be doin’ the exact same thing. This way, you’re on a schedule. You’ll stop taking them in less than a week.”
He was right, and it meant no more temptation with his flask.
I held out my hand and he dropped the tablets into my palm, then went back to fridge to fill his own glass.
I popped both pills in my mouth and took a sip of water, only realizing as I swallowed that they could have been anything. I’d just taken his word for it. But the panic I expected never came. For better or worse, I trusted him.
“You’ll take them three times a day—morning, noon, and night. The dosage is on the bottle.”
“Thanks.”
He didn’t respond, just finished filling his glass, his shoulders stiff. He looked like he was about to say something, then stopped.
“Are you hungry?” he asked at last, meeting my gaze. “I don’t have much food here, but we can dig up something.”
The air between us felt charged again—just like it had outside my grandparents’ house. Even if I’d been hungry, I wouldn’t be now. My stomach buzzed with anticipation, a feeling I wasn’t used to.
He cleared his throat, his hand tightening around his glass, and deliberately looked away.
What was I doing? Had I imagined the tension or was it one-sided? Could I actually trust my insights right now?
Taking my cue that I was making him uncomfortable, I said, “I’m good,” and headed to the living room, needing to put some space between us.
I was about to sit on the sofa, but a framed photograph on the fireplace mantel caught my attention. I walked closer, surprised to see two little girls sitting on a tree branch with their arms around each other. There was a creek and trees behind them. Both girls looked to be about four years old and had big smiles. The one on the left was blond with bright blue eyes. She had a pink bow in her hair and wore a pink shirt and black leggings with sparkles. The other girl was brunette with shoulder-length hair. Her dark brown eyes had an inquisitive look. She was wearing a gray long-sleeve shirt with a Bluey graphic, and a pair of jeans. There was something familiar about her I couldn’t place.
Why did James have a photo of two little girls on his mantel? At first, I’d thought they might be from his childhood, but the Bluey graphic definitely suggested it was more recent.
“The blond one is Jed’s little girl,” James said, his voice strained.
I turned to stare at him, feeling guilty, although I wasn’t sure why. “Does Jed send you photos?” I asked before I thought better of it. “Sorry. Of course not. You said you’re not in contact.”
“His wife sends me letters with photos from time to time,” he said, glancing out the front window.
“Oh.” I had a million more questions, but I didn’t want him to reveal anything he wasn’t ready to share.
“You’d like Neely Kate,” he said with a grin, although there was a strain of longing in his voice. “Although you too are nothin’ alike except for your penchant for callin’ out bullshit.”
“It’s a gift not everyone is blessed with,” I teased.
Chuckling, he sat down in one of the side chairs and took a sip of his water. “True enough.” He looked guarded. “I suppose you’re wondering why Neely Kate sends me letters,” he mused, finally looking at me.
I still stood by the fireplace. This photograph was important, otherwise he wouldn’t have displayed it so prominently. I wanted to understand why, but I still didn’t want to push. “You’re right. I’m wondering,” I said, turning back to the image. “But I suspect Neely Kate is hoping you and Jed will change your minds about talking to one another.”
He lifted his glass in salute, then took a drink. As he lowered it, he said, “Not at first, she wasn’t. She was glad to have me out of his life.”
I walked over to the sofa and took a seat. If he was going to share part of his personal life with me, I was going to be at his level, not staring down at him. “I take it she hated him working for you.”
He paused, then inhaled sharply. As he exhaled, he said, “Especially at the end, but Neely Kate and I got along. I helped her out of a few scrapes, and she helped me with a few of mine.”
A streak of jealousy shot through me, catching me off guard. I had no right to feel jealous of a woman he’d known before our paths had crossed, but the sentiment was there, nonetheless. “Like me,” I said, trying my damnedest to sound nonchalant.
He grinned. “Nothin’ like you.” A fondness covered his face as he said, “She’s sweetness and sass all rolled up into one.”
