Page 128 of Average Joe

Eyes aimed at the weapon, she whispered, “I hate guns. I hate criminals.” Gaze fierce, face crumpling, she said, “But most of all, I hate bossy assholes.”

Her hands shook. She’d had enough. Dylan. Prius Guy. Harper. My dad. Marley was breaking, and it killed me to watch her fall apart.

“Babe. C’mon, please. You want an apology? Okay, fine.” I dropped to my knees. “I’m sorry that I’m an overprotective dickhead. Sorry for falling in love with a woman who has a fan club full of psychopaths. I’m sorry my dirty history upsets you.” Slumping, butt to my heels, I purged because apologies weren’t enough. “Until you, my life had no purpose, and now my only goal is to wake up every morning to that gorgeous smile, knowing you’re happy and safe. And I’m not sorry for being the bossy asshole to give that to you.”

Chest rising and falling, her glare softened. “That was a shitty apology.”

“Neighbor, listen,” I pleaded, hands steepled. “My old man doesn’t carry a gun unless—”

“No. You listen,” interrupted my spirited girl. “I’m a grown woman who runs a successful business. I raised an amazing human all on my own. I’ve survived for years without a man telling me what to do, having me watched, or—”

Marley continued her rant, unaware that Ginger had caught a case of the zoomies and barreled our way, Bruce loping behind. Ginger skidded, avoiding a collision, but when Bruce tried to stop, he slid across the floor and knocked Marley off her feet.

A deafening crack pierced the air. A punch to my gut threw me to my back. Marley scrambled, screaming, climbing over me, but I couldn’t hear a word out of her mouth.

Rage I’d never known rumbled through me. “You shot me!”

* * *

“I can’t believe she shot you,” Connor howled, slapping his knee, his face red from laughter.

“Shut up.” I slid my feet into my OluKais, then tested my balance, rising to stand.

The room swam around me, and I gripped Con’s shoulder. As always, he had my back, bracing an arm around my midsection and helping me into the wheelchair.

Ominous clouds and misty rain greeted us when we passed through the emergency room doors. Frank’s truck idled curbside, the back passenger window dirtied with smudges that only sloppy tongues and wet noses could create.

Bruce’s giant mug appeared as we approached, and I could swear he smiled. Ginger sat in Frank’s lap, tail spinning, body shaking. Frank held her tight until I settled in my seat, then released the little ragamuffin to say her hellos.

My eyelids weighed a thousand pounds each. I hurt everywhere, but more than anything, my ego was bruised, maybe beyond repair. Still, I asked, “How is she?”

“Marley wouldn’t talk to me,” Frank said, chuckling. “Feisty little shit.”

“She home?” My question seemed to come from someone else.

“Nah,” Frank said. “They’re keeping her overnight. Are you gonna press charges?”

Press charges? Yeah. Good idea. Maybe my hot-tempered Calamity Jane would learn to calm her shit while holding a loaded weapon. “Let me think on it a bit,” was the last thing I remembered saying before passing out with my head against the window.

Marley

Patches of gray mottled the pale blue sky. One dog-shaped puff stood out from the rest, making me smile despite my circumstances. Face raised to the sky, I sucked in a dose of fresh air. Smelled heavenly, tasted like freedom.

It was a bit disheartening to find zero messages on my cell, but what did I expect? I’d shot a man. My lover of all people. I’d yet to hear if he’d been released from the hospital or the extent of his injury. And I just needed to know he was okay.

My lawyer explained I wasn’t out of the woods, but I considered myself damn lucky to be standing on a sidewalk and not behind bars.

Though, a six-by-six cell might be safer. Joe probably wanted me dead.

My Uber driver, Hanish, arrived, and I wondered, while lying to him about my career, if he sensed danger in the presence of a gun-wielding boyfriend slayer. I giggled, probably because I was crazy, but most likely because I was exhausted. Hanish glanced at me through the rearview, then turned up the volume on his stereo. Yeah, men, too, had a sixth sense about danger.

Hanish dropped me at home. Immediately, I headed for Joe’s door. Ginger and Bruce barked from the backyard, but nobody answered.

I headed to my own house, called the dogs inside, absorbed their exuberant greetings, then, overdue for a shower, I stripped in the hallway and stepped into the bathroom and under the hot spray, where I stayed until my skin was red and the stench of my mistakes swirled down the drain and into the abyss.

Towel secured around my hair, I headed, naked, for the bedroom, mind set on driving to the hospital and demanding answers.

Joe stood in the hallway, shoulder against the wall, one foot crossed over the other, eyes red-rimmed and swollen.

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