Stop it.
“‘Just as he has done, so it shall be done to him.’”
Jack! I’ll never believe that. Never. You did what you had to do.
My throat constricted. I tried clearing it, but my voice still cracked. “The price was too high.”
She was silent. Of course she was.
She only ever saw the good in me. And yet what I’d done had cost her life—I was sure of it.
Even on my good days, I carried the burden with me.
The truth was, I didn’t deserve to sleep peacefully. I didn’t deserve the love and sympathy of my family. And I certainly didn’t deserve to give in to my desire for another woman.
No matter how much I wanted to.
Later that night, I was sitting on my back porch watching the sun set with a beer in my hand when Georgia appeared around the side of the cabin. In her hands was a plate covered with foil.
“Hey,” she said. “I brought you some dinner.”
“Thanks.”
She came up onto the porch. “I knocked in front but you didn’t answer.”
“Sorry. I didn’t hear.”
“Everything OK?”
“Fine.” I kept my eyes on a family of ducks in the pond.
Georgia was silent a minute. “You go to the cemetery today?”
How the hell she knew, I had no clue. But I didn’t have it in me to deny it. “Yeah.”
She nodded slowly, and for a second I hoped she’d ask me about being there, or say something about Steph, or just acknowledge her existence—or even her memory—in some way. People rarely did. All they ever wanted to know was how I was doing, how I was feeling. Did they think by avoiding the subject, I wouldn’t feel the pain?
Sure enough, Georgia moved on.
“Have you eaten, or should I throw this in the fridge?” She held up the plate and grinned. “It’s fried chicken. Yum yum good.”
“I ate. Fridge is fine.” I hadn’t eaten, but I wasn’t hungry. I felt sick about what I’d done, but worse, I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss with Margot as I sat here. How much I’d liked the feel of her body against mine, her hair in my hands, her skin under my lips. How much I’d wanted to wrap myself up in her perfect, perfumed, pearl-necklace sweetness and forget for a while. How badly I wished I could.
You can’t. So stop fucking thinking about it.
Georgia sighed, but she went into the cabin and I heard the fridge door open and shut. Then a bottle being opened. “Mind if I have a beer with you?”
“No.” Actually, I wanted to be alone in my misery, but didn’t want to be a dick to Georgia. She was always good to me. Maybe she could distract me from thinking about Margot.
She came back out and dropped into the chair next to me. “How was the rest of your day with Margot?”
So much for that idea. “Fine.”
“She drive you crazy?”
Fuck yeah she did. She still is. “Yep.”
Georgia took a long drink of her beer, then laughed. “I know it’s not nice, but I keep picturing her doing chores in her little outfit with the fancy boots and jewelry.”
A smile threatened. “Farmer Barbie.”
Georgia slapped her leg. “Right? She’s so sweet, though. And it was nice of her to be so interested and offer to help. Don’t you think?”
“She wasn’t that much help,” I muttered wryly.
“I wasn’t either when I first got here. You guys used to laugh your asses off at me trying to get on a horse. Remember?”
“Ha. Yes.” But the memory of us laughing together actually made me a little sad. Steph had been there, too. “We thought you were hopeless.”
She reached over and poked my arm. “But I learned.”
“You learned.” I tipped up my beer, thinking about Margot riding a horse. “Actually, I think Margot knows how to ride a horse.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, she said she owned one growing up. She was pretty comfortable with ours today.”
She looked at me, her head cocked. “What do you know, you two have something in common. You should let her ride you while she’s here.”
I almost choked. “What?”
“I said, you should let her ride with you while she’s here. Maybe one day this week.”
“Oh.” Jesus, now the thought of Margot riding me was stuck in my head. I couldn’t get a moment’s fucking peace! “Maybe.”
“She’ll be over tomorrow morning to go over some ideas.” A not-so-subtle suggestion.
“Hmph.”
Georgia sighed and sat back, evidently giving up for now. We drank in companionable silence as the sun went down, slapping at the occasional mosquito and listening to the crickets. When our bottles were empty, she stood.
“Well, I should get back. Thanks for the beer.”
“Anytime. Thanks for bringing dinner.” I rose too. “It’s dark. I’ll walk you back.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do.”
She knew better than to argue. If it was dark, I never let a woman walk anywhere alone.