When I'm Gone (Rosemary Beach #11)

I took the spoon Jimmy handed me and dove into the caramel swirl ice cream with a vengeance. I needed depression food. I’d been in the dumps since Mase had left that morning. I could have gone with him. He’d asked me to.

If I had said yes, I would have lost him much sooner. He hadn’t been with me long enough to really know me. He’d only gotten small doses of me. What about when the memories leaked through and I stood under the hot water of the shower screaming and scrubbing myself? He hadn’t seen that. He would think I was crazy. Because I was sure I was.

Sometimes the past broke through, and when it did, I went a little crazy.

I kept all that from him. He knew what was on the surface, and not even all of that. He knew just enough. My past had marked me.

It had ruined my ability to be close to anyone.

Except Mase. I was letting him in. Today proved just how much.

“You wanna talk about it? Or just eat it out?” Jimmy asked with a pinched frown.

“Don’t want to talk about it,” I replied, and stuffed my mouth full of ice cream.

“The man came from Texas on a Tuesday night to get your money back from the wicked witch and make sure you were OK before heading back home the next day to work. Seems to me like you should be all smiles and giggles. Not pissy and trying to eat your way through this whole pint of ice cream.”

I wasn’t telling Jimmy. If I did, I’d have to tell him more, and I wasn’t letting my past in. Not tonight. “I just hate it when he leaves,” I said instead.

“Mmm-hmm, girl, so does the rest of the world. He’s something to look at,” Jimmy agreed.

That got a laugh out of me that died almost instantly. The girls in Fort Worth didn’t have to see him leave. He was there. With them. They could see him and talk to him. He didn’t have to fly over state borders to fix their problems.

“Wherever your head just went, bring it back, please,” Jimmy said, pointing his spoon at me. “The man flew his ass over here for you last night. He ain’t giving anyone else nothing. Hell, I doubt he even smiles in Texas. He’s smiling too much for you. He’s gotta rest his sexy mouth sometime.”

I laughed. Loudly.

Jimmy sat back and smirked. He was pleased with himself.

The sound of my phone ringing had him standing up and saluting me. “That’s your piece of hot Texas ass now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

I glanced down at the phone, expecting to see cowboy boots, but it was an unknown caller. I didn’t let Jimmy know.

“’Bye, Jimmy. And thanks,” I called out.

He blew me a kiss and closed the door behind him.

I waited a moment until he was away from the door before answering.

“Hello.”

“You think you have him, but you don’t. He was fucking me before you, and he’ll be fucking me after you.”

I held the phone in my hand long after the woman had ended the call.

An hour later, Mase called to tell me he was home safe but he was exhausted. He’d call me tomorrow.

The next morning, I refused to think about the strange phone call. It could have been a wrong number. She never said Mase’s name. I shoved it aside and finally called Blaire Finlay to set up a meeting with her for the next week about cleaning her house. Then I went to the store and paid my bills for the week.

I came back to the apartment and cleaned it from top to bottom. By the time I had to meet with Dr. Munroe, I was better. I had gotten myself together, and I knew that when I called Mase that night, all would be well.

I was just missing him.

That was all this was.

Mase

I undressed and lay back on the bed while listening to Reese read me her newest book. She seemed off tonight or nervous. I wasn’t sure which. I had to help her several times. Once she reached the end of chapter two, I was going to let her stop. This book was more difficult, and she seemed tired.

“Do you want me to keep going?” she asked.

“That’s good. You’re doing so much better, baby. I’m so proud of you.” And I was. She was reading on a fourth-grade level already. Dr. Munroe said it was because she had tried hard to learn in school, and she had learned. She just hadn’t been shown how to deal with her disability. Now that she was working with it, she was picking up quickly and utilizing things she’d already been taught.

“My writing isn’t the best, but I wrote a letter today. It wasn’t a real one. I was supposed to write a fake one to someone thanking them for a gift. I only messed up two words. Dr. Munroe was pleased.” The pride in her voice made my chest tighten. I loved knowing that she was proud of her accomplishments. She should be.

“I’m waiting for you to write me a letter,” I told her. I could keep it tucked in my pocket all day and pull it out when I needed my Reese fix.

She laughed softly. “Not ready for that yet. Let me get better at it. I don’t want Dr. Munroe correcting a letter I wrote to you. So it will have to come to you unedited.”

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