CHAPTER 28

jackson

W est looked like utter shit—in the kind of way that had me genuinely worried. With nothing else to do, I’d spent time researching alcohol withdrawal, and West checked off every symptom. But those were just the ones I could see . The ones I knew about. Just based on what I’d learned, I’d made a dangerous fucking mistake by telling him to just quit drinking. There was a whole laundry list of medical terms tied to what could happen during withdrawal, and none of them were pretty.

It left me a little more than desperate to keep him close. It also left me wondering if I’d bitten off more than I could chew . Maybe I couldn’t help West the way he needed it. I had myself convinced that with the right help, he’d be okay, but what if he wouldn’t? What if he didn’t want it and I was just wasting my time? What the hell was I supposed to do then?

What if I only ended up hurting him in the process? I couldn’t live with that.

All I could do was focus on the here and now and try to get him through the next fucking day. I had a plan, which involved focusing on something he cared about. Hopefully, that’d help. Or at least I’d be there when shit hit the fan.

“Come on,” I said when I approached him by the stables. He glanced at me—glaring like all get up—before going back to buffing saddles. “You can come back to that later.”

“I don’t want to fucking go anywhere with you,” West snapped.

“I ain’t asking.”

“I ain’t going.”

“You want to fix up the stables and fencing or not?” I demanded. He paused, and I knew I had him. When he finally straightened to stare at me, I added, “You know better than me what the hell you need.”

“I gave you a list,” he growled.

“I lost the fucking list.” I hadn’t lost the list. It was just a damn good excuse to keep him close while I ran out to go get shit. Everyone else was in the fields, and I sure as hell wasn’t calling Mickey back just to keep an eye on him. I didn’t trust Mickey with anything where West was concerned. “Now, I put in an order for some of the shit but not everything.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” West muttered and ran a hand over his face. “You can’t do jack shit, can you? Do you know how much fucking work I put into making that goddamn list for you? That was hours of my fucking time!”

“Yeah, I know.” I nodded. “And that’s why you’re coming into town with me. We’ll pick up the wood for the stables and fencing, but I don’t have a fucking clue what you need from the Farm and Feed. ”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he repeated and threw his rag down with the rest of his supplies. I watched as he stormed into the stables. I debated whether I should go after him or not, but I settled on waiting. I wanted to know what he was going to do first. He came out a minute later, shrugging into a black flannel jacket and burying his hands in his pockets. He griped, “No wonder your fucking business is going under. You can’t even keep track of a goddamn list.”

Drawing in a deep breath, I counted to ten. Three fucking times. I’d set myself up to be his goddamn punching bag this time, but I didn’t have to like it. I just wouldn’t comment on it.

“Just get in the fucking truck,” I snapped and stormed away.

A’s Hardware was as much a social spot as it was a hardware store. The Anderson family had run it for years, and they were notorious gossips. Did that make me feel any better about bringing West with me? No, it didn’t. I hated the thought of putting him in the crosshairs of fucking anyone right now, but I had to keep him close.

“Just in and out,” I assured him quietly when I caught him hesitating out front.

“Fuck you,” West snarled and followed me inside.

Henry Anderson was the town’s worst gossip. Pushing eighty, he rarely worked at the store—leaving his son and grandson to do all the work. Today, I just wasn’t that fucking lucky because he sat on a tall stool at one of the registers. And to make it worse, Burt Harper stood with him—the town’s second-worst gossip.

Seriously, the old ladies in this fucking town had nothing on these two. It was as if they didn’t have anything better to do with their time.

“Well, if it isn’t little Dakota McNamara!” Burt exclaimed. Ah, fuck. West tensed beside me, jaw ticking under his thick beard.

“Morning, Burt,” I interjected with the hope of staving off chaos. “Henry. Didn’t think I’d catch you here this morning.”

“Oh, I’m just an old man needing some entertainment today,” Henry replied.

“You’re looking a little rough there, boy,” Burt continued. He eyed West up and down real slow as if sizing him up. Maybe the man was a fucking idiot or he couldn’t see how West was coiled up tight, the anger building in his face. “You know, Harrison said you went to jail for something… what was it…”

“None of your fucking business,” West growled.

“Murder!” he exclaimed loudly. “That’s right! Said you upped and murdered someone.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Was there no end to Harrisons’s reign of terror in West’s life? It didn’t help that we weren’t the only ones in the store or that Burt was drawing attention. Unwanted attention.

“Burt,” I warned .

“You got that look about you,” Burt continued stupidly, not realizing how close he was to being decked. “Don’t he have that look about him, Henry?”

“Quiet now,” I snapped, interrupting him. I took three long steps to close the distance between us. I wanted to make sure he heard me when I threatened him. My height had me towering over him. “Listen real close, Burt, because you got two choices here. On one hand, you nod your head, you say goodbye, and you get the hell on with your day. On the other hand, you tell Henry here to call the Sheriff because West won’t be the one to hit you. I will. And I promise I’ll make it fucking hurt. So, what’ll it be, Burt? Are you and me going to have a problem today?”

“No, Sir,” he let out. Good. Maybe he wasn’t all that stupid after all.

“Good,” I said. “Now, say goodbye and run along, Burt.”

“Have a good day, Henry.” He nodded once to Henry before hurrying out of the store.

“Now, why do you have to go scare away my customers, Jackson?” Henry asked after the bell dinged.

“First off, Henry, we both know I’m your best damn customer.” I leaned against the counter. “Second off, when was the last time Burt bought a damn thing in here?”

That part had Henry laughing, which was a good thing. It broke enough of the tension to let me relax.

“Tell me one of the boys is here,” I continued. “There ain’t no way I’m letting you carry out my order.”

“Nah.” He groaned loudly as he got off the stool. “I haven’t lifted a damn thing in years—I could, but it’s more fun to watch them run around like idiots to make sure I don’t. I’ll get Casey upfront to get you all squared away.”

“Thanks, Henry.”

“You boys behave, you hear me?” he called over his shoulder to me and West as he meandered down an aisle. “I remember the kind of trouble you two used to get into.”

“You got your wires crossed, Henry,” I replied loudly. “We were goddamn angels. ”

“So was Lucifer.” His loud laughter carried through the store as he disappeared. I chuckled. He wasn’t wrong. West and I had been a pair of hellions when we were kids.

“I don’t need you to protect me,” West snarled. His fingers drummed anxiously on the countertop.

“Yeah, I gathered that,” I retorted. “But if someone’s going to hit Burt, it’ll be me. I ain’t a felon. You are.”

“Fuck off,” he muttered, but I ignored him.

“And let’s face it, Burt deserves a good hit every once in a while,” I said under my breath. Wasn’t that the fucking truth. Glancing at West, I caught the way the corner of his mouth quirked with the tiniest of smiles. It vanished almost as quickly, but I’d still caught it.

And I’d take it. It was better than him scowling at me.

Henry took forever getting Casey to come help me, and Casey took even longer getting my order together. Even with all the shit I bought, it shouldn’t have taken so goddamn long. I’d blame it on an off week for them because usually, they were damn good about it. Still didn’t improve my mood as I slammed the tailgate to my truck though.

Stepping onto the sidewalk nearby, West paused, his gaze lingering on Lenny’s across the street. His jaw clenched as he drew in a deep breath. I wanted to poke and see just how bad the withdrawal was—how hard was it for him to stand there and not go in?

“Have you gone to a meeting?” I asked.

“No,” he muttered.

“Merrillville has one tonight,” I told him. Yeah, I had a whole list of AA meetings on my phone in case he needed it.

“Fuck off, Jackson,” West snapped. “I don’t need you to fix me.”

“Not trying to fix you. Just trying to help.”

“Yeah, well, you can fuck off with that too.”