I plop down on the beach and sink my ass into the sand. I drop the six-pack of beer beside me and lean my elbows on my knees and take in the view. I’ve never felt so low. I’m a happy fuckin
g guy, I know that. I know I wear my emotions on my sleeve and sometimes I break. I’m not one of those guys who is afraid to cry or laugh. I’ve always been like that. I don’t think it’s healthy to hold emotion inside.
It usually makes me be the butt of every joke, but it is what it is.
So now, I’m processing what she just said, and the immensity of it is making me feel hopeless for the first time. I love hope. It’s fucking beautiful. Having that small amount of hope flickering inside always has the good overturning the bad and isn’t that what life is all about?
I thought so.
But right now, my hope is dead.
Snagging a beer from the holder, I twist off the cap and throw it in the box, then take a long drag until half the bottle is empty.
All I can think about is Heather and what she said. God, that truth hurt. I don’t know if I can ever get over it. How do I forgive someone that did this to me? Who’s to say if she told the truth, that I still wouldn’t have gone to jail? Stewing on this isn’t good, not for a long period of time, but right now, I’m going to fucking stew.
I down the rest of my beer and open another.
“Been looking for you,” Owen states from behind me.
“Well, you found me,” I sass, another thing I don’t do. Maybe Heather isn’t as good for me as I thought because she’s bringing out the worst in me.
“You shouldn’t be drinking beer while you’re on medication.”
“Shut up, Owen. I’m not in the mood for your shit. I know I’m not supposed to drink. I know I’m supposed to be taking it easy, but I don’t really care right now. If my stiches split, you don’t have to stitch me up again, just leave me alone about it.”
I expect him to give me shit, to tell me off, to threaten to beat my ass, but he steals a beer and pops off the cap. He throws his arm around my shoulder, squeezes it, and shakes me a bit. “Are you okay?” he questions. “This isn’t like you.”
“I know.” I glance down and bury my hand in the sand, grab a fistful, and watch it falls grain by grain like an hourglass. In a way, I am waiting for time to pass. I want to be able to feel something other than this despair. I take another long swig of beer, find a seashell, and throw it in the water. “I just needed some headspace.”
“Well, I have some more bad news,” Owen says, dropping his arm from my shoulders. “You know how there has been a race for governor?” he takes a drink of his beer, side-eying me.
I don’t keep up with politics anymore. I stopped caring a long time ago. Politics turn people into assholes and I’m not about to go down that road again. I’ve learned no politician is as straight and narrow as they like to pretend to be.
Chuckling, I lift the bottle to my lips and scoff right before wrapping my lips around it, causing a whistling sound. “I don’t care, Owen. You seriously came all the way down to tell me about politics? Come on, man. I just learned the girl of my dreams sent me off to prison even though I didn’t deserve it. Let me lick my fucking wounds in peace.”
“It’s about Heather. I have kept you out of the election because I know how much you hate it and so does everyone else, but the winner was announced today.”
“Good for them. Maybe they do better than the last, I guess.”
“The winner is Timothy Thomas. You might know him.”
I drop the bottle and stare at him dumbfounded. “Heather’s father is the governor of California? How did that happen? When? How? Why? What?” I run my fingers through my hair and stand, then kick the water and scream at the top of my lungs until all the air is gone. “My dad has to be behind that. Him and Timothy go way back. Does he still run his business? When did this happen? How did you know? Are you sure it’s her father?” I spew questions left and right, wanting to make sure he knows because if this is true, this situation just got a lot worse.
“We didn’t know for sure until he was announced today, but the news said he would not be delivering a speech because him and his wife and mourning their daughter’s absence. That’s when Sebastian did a crosscheck. It’s him. He has announced he is getting the FBI involved.”
My stomach drops to the beach’s floor. “The first person they are going to look for is me.”
Owen nods and hands me another beer. “Yeah, that was my first thought too because of what happened with Grace. We might not have a choice. She might have to go back sooner than she wants, Heaven. If it means keeping you safe. Right now, I’m afraid they are going to charge you with kidnapping or holding her hostage or something.”
Could this day get any worse?
I hold my breath and wait for Owen to say something that makes me want to punch him in the face, but he stays quiet. I exhale, relieved, usually when I think that something worse always happens.
“I…uh…I need to go for a walk or something. I can’t be here right now. I need…” I spin my heels in the sand and lay my hands on top of my head as I stare at the ocean roaring. “I don’t know what I need. I’ve never felt this knotted up. Even when I was in prison, I had a positive spirit.” I kick the ground and sling sand across the water’s surface. “My dad had to have something to do with Timothy’s win. Timothy always said he never wanted to get too involved in politics, unless my dad wanted someone in his pocket. That sounds like that can be true. I bet he lined Timothy’s pockets with cash. Dad is good at bribing people.”
“Do you want to tell her, or do you want me to?” Owen asks.
“I’m not ready to talk to her yet.”