Джеймс Паттерсон - Texas Outlaw

She stands by the window, looking out at the arroyo and the desert hills. She’s wearing blue jeans and boots with a red blouse—nothing fancy, but she still looks like the gorgeous country star that she is. Her golden hair catches the light, and I can’t help but stare. The picture I’m looking at could be her album cover.

Am I really the fool who is going to break up with this amazing woman?

She turns, her face full of worry, and says, “I’ve got something to tell you. I’ve met someone else.”

Chapter 106

IT’S HARD TO describe how I feel about this.

Relieved.

But also hurt.

“I haven’t slept with him,” she says, coming forward and kneeling in front of me. “But I like him and he likes me. I hate telling you this after all you’ve been through, but I wouldn’t feel right if…”

She trails off, but I know what she means.

“I like someone, too,” I admit.

She has an expression that tells me she’s feeling the same as me—relieved and hurt all mixed together.

“It’s that pretty detective, isn’t it?” she says, smiling knowingly.

I nod.

“Nothing’s happened,” I say. “Not so much as a kiss.”

She sits next to me on the bed.

“I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do about it,” I say. “It’s just been hard living apart.”

“I know,” she says, leaning her head on my shoulder.

We talk for a long time, but there’s really only one conclusion we can come to. It’s time for us to split up and go our separate ways. Neither of us is sure it’s the right thing to do. But neither of us feels that staying together is the right thing, either.

We apologize to each other. Willow cries, and I think I would, too, if I wasn’t so numb and shell-shocked. Some police officers go their whole careers without ever firing their sidearm—I shot and killed five people in the past several days. It will take a long time to process the emotions associated with all that’s happened. Getting over Willow will be one part of healing emotionally from what I’ve been through. But tonight it’s all too much for my brain to handle.

Once we talk through everything, we’re unsure what to do. There are plenty of songs out there about couples having sex one last time before they break up, but neither of us feels right about that. Even though we’re not with other people—not yet—it would feel like cheating. And making love might make it too hard to go through with the breakup.

But there is something we can do together that feels intimate and still feels right.

Willow opens her guitar case and pulls out a nice Gibson acoustic. She lets me play the guitar, and we sing some of our favorites. We mostly play fast songs, fun ones. Juice Newton’s “Queen of Hearts.” “Chicken Fried” by the Zac Brown Band. “Fishin’ in the Dark” by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. As I watch Willow and listen to her voice, I’m overwhelmed with sadness that we weren’t able to make it work.

The first song we ever played together was “Mammas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys,” and when we play it again tonight, neither of us says it, but we both feel like it’s the perfect song to end on. It was the first song we sang together, and now it’s our last.

Willow closes up the guitar case and tells me she wants to give me the guitar to replace the one that was destroyed. I accept it with gratitude.

Then Willow goes into the bathroom and puts on what she’s used for a nightgown ever since we started dating: my old high school football jersey. I strip down to my boxers and T-shirt, and we climb into bed together. I turn out the light and put my arm around her shoulders. Not in a way that will lead to anything sexual. Just friendly. Comforting. She takes my arm and pulls my embrace tighter.

Sleep comes quickly.

My last thought before drifting off is how I forgot to plug in my cell phone and how I need to make sure to do it first thing in the morning.

Chapter 107

I AWAKE TO someone knocking on the door. It’s a polite knock, just enough to stir me from my slumber. I sit up, surprised that so much sunlight is pouring through the window.

Willow is already awake, sitting in bed reading an Emily Giffin book. She rises and goes to the door, still wearing my football jersey. Jessica is at the door, holding a breakfast tray.

“Am I too early?” she says. “Tom told me to wait until y’all came down, but I couldn’t. As soon as he left for work, I started whipping up breakfast.”

Willow, always polite, tells her to come in.

“What time is it?” I say, my voice hoarse from sleep.

Jessica says it’s eight, and I suddenly feel panicked that I need to head to the station. I hadn’t meant to sleep this late. I tell Willow and Jessica that I need to get going, but Willow asks me to stay for a few minutes and eat.

“You could use a good meal to start your day,” she says.

I discreetly pull on my pants over my boxers and join Willow and Jessica at the small table in the corner of the room. Jessica is smiling widely, and I can see that she plans to stay while we eat. She’s so thrilled to meet Willow that she can’t help herself.

“I heard y’all playing last night,” Jessica says. “It was pretty muffled by the walls, but it sounded great. Any chance you can play a few songs for Tom and me tonight out in the garden?”

“Sorry,” Willow says. “I need to head back to Nashville today.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Jessica says.

I drink a few sips of coffee but realize I’ve had too much of that lately, and what I need now is a good meal, not more caffeine. I devour the french toast and poached eggs in front of me. Then I go for the pecan pie. Willow isn’t as hungry as I am, but she drinks every drop in her cup of coffee. I insist she try the pie.

“It’s delicious,” Willow tells Jessica, eating a couple of bites and setting down her fork.

“I sure am glad I got to meet you,” Jessica says. “Tom and I have really gotten to know Rory. We’re going to miss having him around.”

“This is my home away from home,” I say, feeling a little queasy from eating too quickly.

“Whenever y’all get married,” Jessica says, joking, “I expect an invitation to the wedding.”

Willow and I exchange a look, unsure what to say.

Jessica looks horrified. “Did I just put my foot in my mouth?”

“It’s okay,” I say. “Willow and I decided to take some time apart.”

I’m not sure why I say it this way. Maybe to soften the blow. Maybe because I’m not quite ready to say what we’ve really decided, to break up for good.

Willow yawns—she must not be as awake as she seemed—and explains to Jessica that we love each other very much but that our lives are going in opposite directions. Jessica apologizes profusely, sounding truly embarrassed, but I find I can hardly listen. My stomach is cramping up, and I feel like I could vomit. I let my body run on adrenaline and caffeine for too long—I’m afraid a big breakfast was too much for my system to handle.

I excuse myself and go to the bathroom, and find that my legs are unsteady as I walk across the room. I have trouble walking in a straight line, like I’ve been drinking beers instead of eating breakfast. The light coming through the window is especially bright, and a headache appears in my skull out of nowhere. When the first responders came to town two days ago, the EMTs wanted to put Ariana and me on IVs after the dehydration and exhaustion we’d experienced. We both refused, feeling like we had too much work to do.

Now I wish I’d said yes.

Once I’m in the bathroom, I feel like dropping to my knees and vomiting into the toilet, but I’m afraid Jessica would hear. She’s already mortified from the comment about the wedding. What would she think if I puked up the breakfast she made?