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“When do you go home?”
Javier didn’t want his brother to go but he had a family and a job.
“I don’t know. Not until I see you’re gonna be all right. I called Ava a while ago and told her I’d be here a few days more at least.”
He had questions he wanted to ask Jorge but couldn’t remember them. Confusion reigned in his brain, so he quit talking. Later he would ask.
“I’m thirsty,” he complained.
Cecily held ice water to his lips, and he drank. After that, maybe he slept or zoned out or drifted into a coma.
The next time Javier had any awareness, Cecily poked four more pills down his throat, and he drank more water. She fed him beef vegetable soup with a spoon. He couldn’t manage to hold the utensil with shaking hands.
On the third day, he began to feel like a human again. The headache diminished to tolerable levels, and he could eat a little more without feeling he would puke it right back up. The fever wasn’t as high, or he had adjusted to it. Javier still suffered chills but not as intensely.
Propped against pillows, he searched for Cecily but only saw Jorge.
“Where is she?” Fear clutched his heart. He remembered all the insults she hurled at him and the sarcastic cracks. He hadn’t been any better, dishing out crude names and harsh words. If she had taken his offer to leave, Javier wouldn’t be surprised. He should never have forced her to go with him, not against her will. He had the time to bolt, to get out of town, and flee. Why didn’t I? I wasn’t thinking straight. If she had gone, he vowed he would find her once his strength returned. “Is she gone?”
Jorge sat down on the bed. “Sleeping. She’s worn out, worse than I was. Is she really high society?”
“Her family was, and she’s wealthy.”
“So are you, brother. Why would you think she left?”
“I made her come with me, at first. She saw me make a hit. I told her when I first got sick, she could go if she wanted.”
“And you were afraid she did.”
“Yeah.” Javier drew a deep breath and told his brother the truth he could barely admit to himself. “I love her.”
Jorge’s deep-brown eyes met his. “I know. She loves you too, man.”
Trust had been difficult and so was the truth. “I never loved any woman before.”
“That’s good. Maybe you’re not such a tough hombre after all, just a man.”
“I’ve done terrible things, lived a horrible life, Jorge.”
His brother shrugged. “You did what you had to do. That can be over if you want.”
Being sick had changed Javier’s perspective. So had loving Cecily. “I don’t want to go back to the city.”
“Then don’t.”
Javier covered his face with both hands. He felt better but not good. “You make it sound easy.”
“It can be. Walk away from the past. You did what you thought you had to do. Do it again and change.”
He returned from service a damaged man with no occupation, no skill except with a sniper rifle. Javier hadn’t intended to become a hit man. It happened when someone he’d known in service suggested him and reached out. Now he saw he’d never faced reality. He had buried his emotions behind a cold exterior and pretended not to care because he did.
“Where would I go?”
Jorge laughed. “Come to Guymon to start. Or move to Flagstaff or Miami. Mami would like that.”
Javier wouldn’t. “Does she know too? Does Josie?”
“About your occupation? No. Rest a while. You look pale.”
