doing nothing to help my mood as I beelined for the one person who would know exactly what to say to make an awful day better.
I needed Joe like I needed my next breath. He had a way of saying exactly what I needed to hear. He’d twist the situation like a jeweler studying a diamond and say, “There, right there. See? This is really a good thing.”
I needed his arms. His comfort. His strength. I needed a night of drinking, laughing, and making love to lead me to a better mindset so I could figure out what to do with my suddenly jobless self.
When I exploded into the backyard, Joe was hard at work, staining what looked suspiciously like a shadowbox. Of all the days for him to bulldog himself into doing things his way, he’d chosen the worst possible one. I needed him to be caring and supportive, not stubborn and obstinate.
When I stopped in front of him, he barely looked up.
His jaw muscle pulsed. His focus locked on the long, slow swipe of his brush against the wood. The more I watched, the more meticulous he became.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was purposefully ignoring me.
“Hi.” I bit off the word, the awkward silence lighting my already short fuse.
He bobbed his head without meeting my gaze. Not even a grunt of recognition or the ghost of a smile. After a day like I’d had, I wasn’t sure I could handle old-school, grumpy Joe.
“Is that a shadowbox?”
“Very perceptive. Congratulations.” The gentle, joking tone I’d come to expect from him was gone, leaving only the biting assholery that had me ready to pepper spray him on day one.
“I thought we weren’t going with the shadowbox.”
“You weren’t going with the shadowbox. I’ve been a fan since I suggested the idea.”
“Gotcha. So, just like in everything, you’re going to push your way in and make all the decisions. Even a gift for my grandmother has to be done your way.”
Joe slowly lowered his paintbrush and met my eyes. I flinched.
He’d never looked at me with so much disdain. Even when we thought we hated each other, there was always something that said he liked being around me.
His glare lacked any warmth whatsoever, and that fact dropped a rock into my belly.
The day just kept proving my anxiety correct.
Something was wrong.
Something was very, very wrong.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Joe
Constructing the shadowbox had been a great way to get my mind off Kennedy and Collin, but a terrible way to deal with the shitty thoughts running laps in my head. I’d shoved my anger into a dark hole while I focused on the perfect lines and angles of construction and expected the problem to just go away on its own. A tried and true tactic that never failed to let me down.
But now that she was standing right in front of me?
And not at all being sweet or nice or any of the things I’d come to expect from her?
My anger zoomed back into focus with the ferocity of a hurricane.
I rested my brush on the can of stain and wiped my hands. “I figured I’d have to get a move on if we were ever going to finish this for Maxine. A person could grow old and die waiting for you to think about someone other than yourself.”
Kennedy flinched. Her jaw dropped. She blinked once. Twice. Then shook her head like a fighter who got his bell rung. Considering that was how I felt when I saw that text from Collin, it only seemed fair to return the favor.
“Excuse me?” Her voice squeaked and cracked. “Joe…what’s wrong?”
“The fact that you even have to ask that question says everything I need to know.”
The rage I’d ignored all day raced up my throat and devoured my sanity. The first person I’d trusted in years was trading me in for someone better—just when I’d been foolish enough to hope I’d found something real.
I’d had enough of that in my life.
“Can we not fight today?” Kennedy let out a long breath. Deep lines stood out around her frown. “Work was…well…it wasn’t great and I need you.”
“Sure. Let’s go ahead and make this about you. Some more. Again.”
She puffed out her cheeks. “Can you at least tell me why you’re so upset?”
The pain on her face made me question my rage, which only made me angrier.
Angry with her for making me feel both betrayed and ashamed of feeling that way.
And angry with myself for not being man enough