Jagged (Colorado Mountain #5)(14)

“I’ll calm down when you’re out of my f**kin’ house.”

“Babe—”

I took a step back, turned, didn’t know why the hell I was turning since, in that tiny pad, I had nowhere to go, so I faced Ham again, and said quietly, “I lost my home. I lost my dream when I lost my shop. I nearly lost my stupid car and I had to sell a bunch of shit like my stereo so I wouldn’t. I lost my husband and with him went my furniture. I’m working at a place I hate, making practically nothing. I have no idea what my future will bring. I have nothing to look forward to. I live day to day doin’ nothin’ but gettin’ through the day. I do not need this shit. Not now. Not from you. Not from anyone. If you care about me even a little bit anymore, Ham, you’ll get gone and stay gone.”

“I’ve always cared about you, Zara.”

God! Killing me!

“Then get gone.”

“You gotta listen to me—”

“You’re not getting gone,” I snapped and he leaned in.

“Shoe’s on the other foot, babe, you knew I needed you, would you leave me? No matter how much I said I wanted it, you knew my shit was f**ked, would you walk away from me?”

Seriously, it was exasperating that he had a point.

I decided not to speak.

Ham saw his advantage and took it while taking another step toward me.

“You saw me on TV, babe, and I know, the way you were freaked, you picked up the phone within seconds. We were disconnected for f**kin’ years, you saw the shit that went down with me, you reached out. So I know you wouldn’t turn your back on me.”

Definitely exasperating.

Ham kept going.

“I got a two-bedroom condo, good views, balconies off both bedrooms and the livin’ room, and you’ll have your own bathroom.”

“You can’t think I’d even consider movin’ in with you,” I replied.

“And I got a decent f**kin’ TV.”

Damn.

I wished he hadn’t mentioned the TV.

I stared at him and Ham held my stare.

I found this nerve-racking so I tried something new.

“I have a year lease that I signed one month ago.”

“And I have a way with talkin’ folks around to my way of thinking.”

I knew that. In fact, I was experiencing it at that very moment.

I tried something else.

“I have furniture and I don’t have the money to put it in storage.”

“That’s good,” he returned instantly. “Since I got a place that’s not furnished and I haven’t got ’round to buying anything.”

“I thought you said you had a decent TV?”

“Darlin’, I’m a guy. We can’t breathe without a decent TV. I don’t have furniture in the living room but I bought a bed and TV my first day in Gnaw Bone.”

And again. Exasperating.

“Do you have an answer for everything?” I clipped.

“When it comes to gettin’ you safe. Yes. I do. Absolutely.”

And again. Killing me.

“Okay, then tell me this, Answer Man,” I demanded. “I lose my mind and move in with you, who do I get? The Ham I thought I knew or Dickhead Ham who came to my house months ago and broke into my place just now.”

“Never had a roommate, babe, except those four months you lived with me, and we did all right back then.”

My stomach muscles contracted with the force of that blow.

He’d never had a roommate?

Except for me?

I decided not to go there.

“Right, to speed this along, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave so I can consider your gracious offer.”

“Not leavin’ without an answer.”

“Ham—”

“Strike that. Not leavin’ without the answer I wanna hear.”

I glared at him before something hit me.

“What are you doin’ here?”

His brows shot together. “Babe, I’m here offerin’ to help you deal with your shit.”

“Not here.” I pointed to the floor. “Here.” I swung my arm out wide. “Gnaw Bone. Why did you take the job at The Dog?”

“’Cause I got a hatchet to the shoulder, made me slow down, think about shit, and reconsider. Don’t mind tendin’ bar. Prefer doin’ it paid a manager’s salary. Been a lot of places and got treated kind. When I thought on it, this one stuck out. Don’t know why. Don’t care. It did. Just happened as I was thinkin’ that shit through, The Dog needed a manager. Jake didn’t want the promotion, he gave me a call. I told ’em I was interested. I’m here.”

That was unsurprisingly forthcoming yet surprisingly thorough.

“And what about me?” I asked. “The town isn’t all that big, Ham, and I doubt I have to remind you that the last time we shared breathing space, we didn’t leave things all that great.”

“Mendin’ fences with you was on my list of things to do.”

I had no idea if he wanted to do this so we could exist in the same town where we would undoubtedly run into each other or because he didn’t like the way things ended the last time he’d seen me.

I told myself it didn’t matter. What mattered was moving on.