Chapter 27

Zeke

The daysafter I gave the divorce papers to Rainey got blurry. Not because of alcohol, but because I dove headfirst into work, getting to jobsites before the sun came up and staying as long as it took to stumble back home and fall into bed without my brain firing up and reminding me of how much I missed Rainey.

It was the third day, or perhaps the fourth, when I came home, scooped out some food for Daisy, then walked straight to my bedroom to collapse that I realized something looked different. I screeched to a halt in the living room, swiveling my head so hard my neck sent out a sharp pain that pulled me from my exhausted fog.

Rainey's stuff was gone. The items she'd overlooked when she'd left in such a hurry were now gone.

The fuzzy blanket she curled up with in front of the television. The random book or coffee mug she left on the table. The pair of sandals that always ended up where I'd trip over them. I ran to the bedroom, my heart in my throat, then headed to the bathroom. Sure as shit, every single item of hers that I'd planned on keeping forever just so I could torture myself looking at it was missing. I sagged against the doorframe, the sight of my empty vanity and cleaned-out closet like a physical punch to the gut. I'd handed her the divorce papers but I'd held out a small measure of hope that she'd come back. That she'd throw them in my face and yell at me that she was staying. Clearing out her stuff while I was gone at work sent a clear signal of the opposite.

So this was it. She made her choice.

She officially left me again.

The slice of pain was worse this time. Worse because I'd known it was coming and fell in love with her anyway. Worse because I was a grown adult this time and knew the taste of long-term loneliness. I knew what awaited me in the days, months, years of life without Rainey Shaw.

My phone vibrated in my back pocket. I pulled it out, foolishly hoping it would be Rainey. I'd done the same thing every time my phone rang twelve years ago. I'd race to pick up, thinking it might be Rainey wanting a ride back to Blueball. That call never came and this text wasn't from her either.

Vander: Hey, man. You free tonight? Marlo's got a thing. Thought I'd come over with pizza and beer?

I slid down the wall right there outside the bathroom and tried to think past the whirling thoughts of Rainey. After she left before, I'd retreated into myself. I'd quit being social and buried myself in building my business with my dad. After he died, work had taken over and I liked it that way. The more I worked, the less time I had to think and feel. But I was still damn lonely. No matter how much I wanted to hide and wallow in my depression, I had to choose better this time.

Me: That sounds great.

Vander: Sweet! Be there in thirty.

I absolutely did not feel like socializing, which probably meant I needed it the most right now. As soon as I felt like I had strength left in my legs, I pushed up to standing and forced myself to take a shower and put on clean clothes. Everywhere I looked I saw Rainey. I wondered if time would erase the memories of her in this house or if I'd have to burn it down and rebuild it just to exorcise her from it.

Vander knocked and came in, not waiting for me to get the door. He was a nosy bastard like that.

"Hope you like anchovies," he called, setting the pizza box down in the kitchen and putting the beer in the fridge, making himself at home.

I walked in and saw him going through my cabinets looking for plates. He pulled two down and turned to shoot me a loopy grin.

"Heard you might need some thick IPAs." He shrugged, reaching back in the fridge to pull one longneck bottle out and hand it to me. "Girls do ice cream, but this'll put hair on your chest."

I frowned but took the beer, twisting off the top and taking a long pull. Every muscle hurt from the manual labor this week, but my heart hurt worse.

"What did you hear?"

Vander cracked open his own beer and got busy plating a few slices of pizza, thankfully without fuckin' anchovies. "Oh, you know small towns. Word travels fast. Gertie mentioned the D word and thank fuck she wasn't talking about dick this time." He cracked up at his own joke, sliding both plates of pizza onto the small kitchenette table and having a seat.

I sat too, wishing I had an appetite. The pizza looked good, but my stomach was still in knots. "I'm sure Gertie got a lungful from Rainey before she left town."

Vander simply grunted, then shoved pizza in his face.

I took another swig of beer. "I, uh, gave the divorce papers to Rainey."

"No shit." Vander didn't put any judgement behind the statement. I wasn't sure if he knew that already or just wanted to hear it from me.

"The marriage was never supposed to be real. I was simply helping her get her inheritance. She had to be married and I couldn't let her marry that asshole who showed up in town with her."

"Of course not. It's far preferable to marry someone who broke your heart over a decade before than to let her marry any other jackass."

I narrowed my eyes at Vander's sarcasm, but he avoided my gaze as he kept shoveling pizza into his face.

"She did say she wanted to date me. And that was after the wedding," I defended myself.

"Definitely grounds for divorce," Vander said sarcastically around a mouth full of pizza.

I was good and pissed now. Just to keep him from eating it all, I also took a huge bite of pizza. We glared at each other, in some sort of weird pizza-eating showdown. We demolished the entire pizza before either of us said another word.

Vander leaned back in his chair and rubbed his belly with a grimace. "Shit, I'm full."

"I could eat another whole one myself," I taunted, unsure why I was attacking my friend but going along with it because it felt good to let off steam.

Vander grinned. "I can't keep up with you working men. I yell at seniors all day and cook them food. Doesn't really work up an appetite like building a fence or something." He hopped up and got us more beers, continuing to chat my ears off about the latest hijinks committed by the seniors in his home.

By the time I started on my third beer I was sure I'd taken the wrong route the last few weeks. I should have been downing beer instead of burying myself in work. The more I drank, the more I started talking, which was weird for both me and Vander. He was used to being the talker and I was used to listening, but the roles soon reversed and we both looked uncomfortable.

Vander finally cut me off by leaving the table to put the plates in the dishwasher and hand me the last beer. "I gotta drive home, so you can have the last one. Plus, you must be parched from talking so much."

"Shut the fuck up," I grumbled.

Vander stood there and smiled at me before slapping me on the shoulder. "Gannon's got you tomorrow. Boston the day after that."

I frowned again. "What are you talking about?"

"We've got a schedule, man. One of us will come each day to have dinner with you, though I have to warn you, those douchebags won't show up with beer better than what we had tonight. I got that shit straight from India."

I turned to look at the bottle in my hand. I hadn't realized the label wasn't in English. "You got more at home?"

Vander grinned. "Fuck yeah, I do. But I have it hidden from the seniors. That and my chocolate. All under lock and key. Be a good boy and I'll bring another six-pack when it's my day again."

As much as I loved the beer, I wasn't down with being the latest charity case amongst my friends. "Call them off. I don't need y'all coming over to check on me like I'm some kind of invalid."

Vander shrugged and squeezed past me to grab his keys off the table. "Too bad. That's what friends do." He spun the keys around his finger. "Maybe after a few visits, we'll have talked some sense into you."

He spun and headed for the front door while I trailed after him. "What do you mean ‘talk sense into me'?"

He turned back around at the door. "You're a good guy, Zeke, but you're also a bit of a dumbass. Don't worry. We all were at one time."

Then he shut the door and whistled a tune so loudly I could identify the song from behind a solid wall and door.

"What the fuck just happened?" I muttered to myself, taking my beer to the bedroom and getting undressed for bed.

Sure as shit, every night thereafter, a different friend showed up with dinner and some sort of drink or dessert. They all asked me different questions and gave their own take on the situation. Sometimes I listened and sometimes I didn't. Mostly they just got me talking and I found myself pouring out my feelings like I was a spigot of water that wouldn't shut off now that it had been cranked on. It was fuckin' embarrassing. And yet I didn't want to stop. Not really.

It was strangely nice to open up to friends. Different, that was for sure. I wasn't sure if it was helping, based on the headache that brewed between my eyeballs every morning and the heaviness in my chest that never abated, but it was nice to have company while I was miserable.

The nights were the worst. I would wake up at some point in the early morning hours and not be able to get back to sleep. My body was so tired my limbs ached, but my brain was like a squirrel on crack. I kept going over every interaction, every decision I'd made when it came to Rainey. Ultimately, it all came down to two questions I couldn't answer.

Why was I destined to fall in love with a woman who couldn't love me back?

And how was I going to get over her?