Texas Outlaw (Rory Yates #2) - James Patterson Page 0,103
us. She gives me a big hug and then beams at Willow.
“I’ve heard your song on the radio,” Jessica says. “I love it!”
She asks if we want any dinner, but Willow ate a sandwich on the drive and I’ve been living on whatever food arrives at the station. Tonight it was cold pizza. Again.
Jessica offers to make us breakfast, and I consent, telling Willow that she makes the best pecan pie I’ve ever had.
“How’s the intrepid reporter doing?” I ask.
She says Tom is okay. His nose looks like hell, but he hasn’t complained about it. He’s spent almost as much time at the paper as I’ve spent at the police station, putting out a special edition of the Rio Lobo Record and then being interviewed by every major network that sent a news van to town.
“This is his fifteen minutes of fame,” she says jokingly. “He gets to be a big-time journalist for a while. No bandage on his nose is going to stop that.”
Willow and I retreat to my little studio apartment. I unstrap my gun and put it in the safe, honoring Jessica’s wishes to keep it locked up. Then I strip off my boots and sit on the bed. I’m so exhausted that I almost don’t want to go through with the conversation I know I need to have with Willow.
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