Page 16 of Drifting Hearts
When I pulled into Mom’s driveway, Clayton was already outside. He didn’t wait for me to come help him into the truck, instead I watched as he set his jaw in that determined way and made his way to the passenger side door. Without assistance, he managed to heft himself into the seat and pull the door shut.
He didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood, which wasn’t unusual. It was hard to know if it was his current circumstances or if something new was weighing on him. I didn’t know much about him. Only what Shane had told me, and that he’d heard from Archer.
I’d spent the past month hovering around, making sure he didn’t step out of line, but I knew nothing about him. It was hardly the time to play icebreaker games, and why the hell should I want to? Why should I want to get to know someone who’d ripped off his best friend?
A traffic detour meant that we drove past the casino. I didn’t miss the way Clayton stared out the window at the building. Did seeing it make his skin itch? Did it call to him even now?
“Do you miss it?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“I miss a lot of things,” was all he said at first. “I miss—never mind. I miss a lot of things.”
I didn’t doubt his sincerity for a second. But I wondered if it was gambling specifically that he missed.
“Are you having a hard time?”
Clayton scoffed. “Gee, what do you think?”
“I meant… do you find it hard to stay away from gambling?”
“I don’t have a choice right now but to stay away. I can’t leave the house alone. I don’t have a phone, and the only time I use thecomputer is to talk to my therapist.” Clayton’s agitation increased with every word. “I miss my apartment. I miss my best friend. And I realize that I’m the reason I don’t have those things, okay, and yes, I miss gambling. But not the gambling itself. According to my therapist, I miss what it gave me.”
“What did it give you?” I chanced a glance at Clayton, whose scowl cut me down to the bone.
“That’s not your business,” he bit. “I don’t have to tell you shit.”
“Okay.” I turned my attention back to the road and flicked on my turn signal. From the corner of my eye, I watched the way Clayton looked at me, then tore his gaze away in an angry huff. It was like he didn’t want me to ask him things, but also wanted me to. He seemed torn between wanting to talk to someone and that someone being me.
Even though Clayton insisted that he could manage himself, I still helped him inside and I still waited outside the room while they cut the cast from his leg. When Clayton came out, his face was white as a ghost, but he smiled and took his first wobbly steps on both feet. The walking boot looked more comfortable than the cast he’d had on.
The doctor exited the room and saw Clayton hobbling over to me. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Make sure he doesn’t overdo it. He’s going to get tired easy for the first little while. Just because he’s in a walking boot, it doesn’t mean he’s ready for a marathon.” The doctor gave Clayton a friendly smile. “I’ll see you in a few weeks and we’ll get that cast off your arm.”
Clayton nodded and mumbled a thank you, then hobbled slowly past me. “Race you.”
His mood seemed to have improved a little just from getting the leg cast off. I indulged his little challenge and fell into step just behind him. By the time we made it to the entrance of the hospital, though,Clayton wasn’t doing so well. His gait had slowed and his already white complexion had turned almost gray.
“Wait here. I’ll pull the truck around.”
“I can make it.” He started to argue, but there wasn’t a lot of conviction in his words.
“Just sit your ass down and wait, okay? I’ll pull the truck around so you don’t faint and crack your head open and end up in the hospital again.”
My rant seemed to amuse Clayton, and the corner of his mouth lifted into something that was almost a smile.
“Dramatic much?”
“Hardly. You’re swaying on your feet and if you get any paler, your skin will be see-through.” I motioned to an uncomfortable looking cement bench that sat off to the side away from the doors. “Sit.”
Clayton lowered himself onto the bench and looked up at me. Amusement and exhaustion were etched into his features and I wondered if he’d been sleeping well. Or at all.
“If I didn’t know better, I could swear you cared.”
My own thoughts echoed in his voice snapped me out of whatever fog of madness I’d been in. I didn’t care about Clayton. Well, I did in that he was a human being and even shitty people were worthy of a basic amount of human decency. It wasn’t like he was a murderer or a rapist. On the range of the criminal spectrum, his non-violent crime paled in comparison to some of the things I saw on the true crime shows I watched.
My frown deepened when I realized I was making excuses for him. What he did was bad, but sure, compared to other things it wasn’t that heinous. While it didn’t erase the things he had done, it didn’t escape my notice that the whole time he’d been staying with my mom, he hadn’t asked for so much as asingle penny.
I pulled up in front of the hospital and leaned across the seat to open the passenger door for him. Clayton stood and, with his good hand, pushed his hair off his face. He all but collapsed into the seat. “That took more out of me than I thought it would.”
“It’s been an emotional day.”
