Page 46 of Wrapped in Hope
Chapter 17
When Hope leftme sitting alone in my kitchen like that, I was speechless. I wanted to stop her, but I forced myself to let her go. She needs to walk away from me, leave me behind so I won’t hurt her.
My head is a fucking mess and she doesn’t need to see that or be subject to my confusion. She has to be confused by all of this. I tell her I’m bad for her and then kiss her. I tell her to stay away then run to her. I wish I had the strength to stay away from her, but every time something falls apart, she’s the one I want to see, to talk to.
I’ve managed to stay away from her for a week now and I feel like I’m about to detox at any moment, like I’ll soon be running to her for another hit.
I’ve spent my time by repairing the window I broke, going to work, and calling the hospital to check on Jane. Seeing her there isn’t something I can handle right now. Her doctor has her on round the clock suicide watch after she attempted to slit her wrist back open with a pair of scissors a nurse forgot in her room. They are adjusting her medications and promise that we will know more in a few days once the new medication stays steady in her system. In the meantime, all I can do is wait.
It’s early Monday morning and I can’t stand to sit around any longer. I keep thinking about Hope and wondering what she’s doing, if she’s okay. I grab my keys and head to the shop to open early. I have a stack of paperwork to go through.
I drive across town and let myself in. The sky is still dark with a cool, spring wind slightly blowing. I walk in and fire up the heater in the shop and start a pot of coffee before making my way into my office. With the events of the past week, I couldn’t stand to sit still long enough to get any of the insurance papers done. I had to keep moving, keep busy to keep my mind off of everything. Looking at the pile of papers on my desk now, that was a big mistake.
I take a seat and start going through the papers. Most of them are just claims that have to be faxed over to different insurances, some are bills to be paid or mailed out, and others are just detailed lists of the parts that the guys used on each bike. It seems each paper gets filed a different way. Fuck, I need a secretary. That would give me time to do the things I really want to do, like work on bikes and ignore all the paperwork.
First thing I start doing is putting each paper in the correct pile depending on what they need: filing, faxed, mailed, or paid. I’m about half way through with this task when Jack walks in.
Jack has worked for me since he got out of high school ten years ago. He reminds me so much of Dean. That’s initially why I hired him. Dean wasn’t the work with your hands type. So when Jack walked into my shop needing a job, it was my chance to take someone under my wing.
“Here’s a cup of coffee, boss.” He sets the cup down on my desk, far away from my stacks of papers.
“Thank you,” I say, reaching for it.
He plops down in the chair across from me and removes his backwards hat. His dark hair hangs down to his shoulders and he does a hair flip to get it out of his face.
I laugh. “When are you going to cut that shit off?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a rubber band. “Never. Bitches love the man bun,” he says, pulling his hair up.
I shake my head. “Keep it up and you’re going to look like one of those bitches you’re talking about.” I lean back in my chair. “In fact, all that hair might look good blowing in the wind on the back of my bike. You’ll have to hold on pretty tight though, there’s no bitch bar.”
He laughs. “Fuck you, man.”
My laughing comes to an end as I pick up my coffee and take a sip.
“What’s going on with you lately? You’ve been coming in early and staying late.” All amusement has left his face now. Instead, it’s covered with concern.
I wave my hand to dismiss the question. “Nothing for you to worry about. Just going through some personal stuff.”
“Stuff with your wife?” He’s looking at his hands in his lap.
“How’d you hear about that?”
His eyes pop up to meet mine. “Everyone’s heard about it. Small towns, you know?”
Fuck. That’s just what I need: to be the talk of the town.
I shrug. “She’s getting the help she needs. Don’t worry about it.” I stand and move into the shop to start work on the Sportster I left unfinished yesterday. I haven’t finished my paperwork yet, but I can’t sit still any longer.
Jack must understand that I don’t want to talk about it, so instead of following me out to talk, he just turns on some music and gets to work.
By the end of the day, I’m covered in grease and tired. I’ve worked myself to the bone, trying to keep busy so I don’t think about Jane or Hope.
The sky is once again dark as I climb into my Jeep to head home. I’m just turning onto my street when my phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Brantford, I think you should come by. Your wife is responding really well to her new medication. She’s asking for you.”