Page 106 of The Scars I Bare
A frustrated breath escaped my lips. “I know. I’m sorry. He egged me on, and I shouldn’t have let him.”
“Stop,” she said. “It doesn’t even matter.” A tear ran down her cheek. “And I can’t believe I have to do this. But you’re making me choose between the two of you. You’re making me choose between the man I love and the father of my child.”
“Please, no,” I begged, pulling her into the hall for privacy. “I’m not making you choose anything. I can do this. I can.”
She let out a strangled laugh. “You just proved that you clearly can’t, Dean. You just clobbered him at your best friend’s wedding. Lizzie has one father. And I need him to be a bright light in her eyes, not the horrible monster that he became to me. So, I’ll fight for that, and if that means walking away from this, from what we have, I’ll do it. For her, I’ll do anything. Even if it means giving up my own happiness.”
“Has anyone seen my keys?” Taylor’s voice resonated through the house at the same time I heard Jake call out, “Where did he go?”
Cora and I must have sensed it.
Something was up.
We both turned toward the parlor, and I found Jake with a small med kit and ice and a bewildered-looking Taylor.
“Where did who go?” I asked.
“Blake,” Jake said. “I set him down at this table before I went to the kitchen, and he’s gone.”
“And so are my keys,” Taylor said, pointing to where I’d set his keys down right before Blake and I went to blows.
The giant set of keys that had access to every boat we owned in the harbor.
“Well, maybe they flew off the table when you hit the guy,” Taylor said.
“Maybe he’s in the restroom,” Cora said.
Everyone started looking around at once. After five minutes, he was a no-show. And so was Taylor’s truck.
“Why the fuck would he take my truck? He has a car of his own.”
“Does it really matter at this point?” I asked.
“Where do you think he went?” Cora asked, moving on to more pressing issues.
“I don’t know, but he was pretty drunk. Wherever he went, we need to find him before he gets hurt. Or worse, before he hurts someone else.” I pulled my keys out of my pocket, just as Taylor’s phone began to ring. “I’ll go look for him.”
“What?” Taylor said loud enough to make everyone turn. He held up a finger, signaling for me to wait. “When?” he asked the person on the phone before turning to us. “Someone just took one of our boats out of the marina.”
“Oh my God, in this weather? He wouldn’t,” I said. “Does he even know how to operate a boat?”
Cora nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. It’s one of his hobbies.”
Grabbing the phone from Taylor, I held it up to my ear. “Hi, who is this?”
“Dean, is that you? This is Dwight Bosley. I live just behind the marina, over on the—”
“I know where you live, Dwight,” I said, feeling too impatient to wait for the old man to continue.
“Oh, yes, of course. Anyway, I saw Taylor’s truck skate into the parking lot just a few minutes ago, which was alarming because it wasn’t too long ago that the Mrs. and I left the wedding, and I remembered you taking away his keys.”
“Dwight, which boat did he take?” I pressed.
“Smaller one,” he answered. “One of the boats meant for the inshore tours—or at least, that’s what it looked like from my window. I was so worried it was Taylor. That’s why I called him first. But, now, I feel terrible I didn’t call Macon first, knowing someone stole it. Do you want me to call him? Macon, that is.”
“I’ll do it myself,” I said, knowing Macon wouldn’t do a lick of good right now.
He couldn’t steer a boat in a straight line to save his life.
