Page 83 of Old Habits
“Well, what?” I shrug. “Sure, Hank isn’t perfect but he’s lived here for nearly forty years. He’s worked the same job, paid the same taxes, contributed to the same local businesses for forty years. How many of you can say that?”
Lucky sighs. “He’s just not what we like to call Clover Folk, honey.”
Coach flicks his pointer and draws a line along the middle of the graph. “And his happiness level has never gone above a five. Even when Jovie was born. Usually, a newborn baby gives the curve a steady jump for several weeks. It never budged when Jovie was born. Bad omen right there.”
The crowd nods in agreement.
“How is that her fault?” I scoff. “You know what? Shame on you. Shame on all of you. Jovie’s had a rough life. Her mother died. Her father neglected her. She never had the opportunities the rest of us did. So, yeah, she acted out in her teen years but she’s an adult now and she’s trying which is a hell of a lot more than I can say about anyone else in this room.”
Coach steps forward. “Now, hold on, Will—”
“No, I’m done with this,” I say over him. “Jovie is a beautiful and wonderful person who deserves a second chance. If you refuse to see that, then I’ll...”
They grow tense in their chairs.
Mrs. Clark clutches her throat. “You’ll what?”
I scan their terrified faces again. “Nothing,” I say.
Whatever is going through their heads right now probably freaks them out more than what I was going to say. Good.
Without another word, I walk toward the exit I came in from. Hushed whispers follow me across the gymnasium. A few say my name to try and stop me but I ignore them. I don’t want to hear another word from them about this or anything else. A man can only swallow enough bullshit before it makes him sick and I’ve never felt so nauseous in my life.
I shove the door open, making it bang loudly against the wall behind it but property damage isn’t exactly high on my list of give-a-fucks right now. As I stomp into the hall, I instantly halt as Jovie comes into view. She flinches slightly at my sudden appearance, standing against the wall just a foot or two away from the door with tears in her eyes.
She heard everything. All of it. Every damn word they said about her behind her back. Everything about her and Hank and them not being Clover Folk, whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean.
Jovie sniffs. “There really is no place like home, eh, Toto?”
I step closer. “Jovie, I’m sorry you heard that stuff.”
“No, I’m...” She wipes a stray tear before it falls. “I’m really happy I did.”
“They’re full of shit, you know that, right?” I ask.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Don’t waste your tears on them.”
She looks up at me. “I’m not crying over what they said.”
I smile. “I meant it,” I tell her. “I meant everything I said in there and I don’t care who knows it.” I reach for her hands and she lets me have them. “I want to be able to walk down the street holding your hand or kiss you in the park just because I feel like it. To hell with them. I want to be with you, Jovie. Officially, again. ”
“Are you sure?” she quips. “There’s talk on the street that I might be involved in a dangerous, drug-running, biker gang.”
“Even if you really were…” I smirk, “that’s kind of hot.”
She laughs. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, you’d be a pretty badass old lady.”
“Would you join up, too?”
“Oh, hell yes. I’ve already got the bike and I’m pretty sure I could pull off the leather. I don’t know about the tattoos, though. I have this thing about needles…”
Her smile deepens. “Sounds like fun.”
I pull her closer and lay a hand on her warm cheek. “It’s you, Jovie,” I say, kissing her forehead. “It’s always been you. I don’t care about anyone else.”