Free Divorced, Desperate and Dead (Divorced and Desperate Book 5) by Christie Craig

abandonment hadn’t been on purpose. She’d died. When he watched them lower her body into the ground, he was watching the only person in his life who ever cared for his lily-white ass.
    Oh, she got pissed at him all the time. She didn’t approve of him smoking weed. She even threatened to throw his butt out. She didn’t. She loved him. Looking back, he regretted that he hadn’t done better for her. But he’d still loved her.
    The “For Sale” sign in the front yard told him the bank hadn’t sold the property yet. He pulled into the back and parked under the big oak tree on the grass. He sat there and stared at the house for a minute. He found his tiny pack of powder under the seat. Beside it was his gun. He pulled both things out and set them on his passenger seat, beside the Daily News.
    He looked down at the paper. Her picture was there. She was pretty. Probably too old for him, but pretty. He didn’t want to kill her.
    But did he have a choice?
    He picked up the paper and reread the story. It didn’t say anything about connecting the cop shooting to the woman’s accident.
    Maybe they wouldn’t put two and two together.
    He knew Jax wanted him to take care of the problem now. He recalled one of his grandmother’s sayings : You might not get what you want, but if you’re good, you’ll get what you need. It wouldn’t kill Jax to learn he didn’t always get what he wanted.
    But would trying to teach Jax a lesson end up getting him killed?
    Closing his eyes, he leaned his head on the steering wheel. How had his life gotten this bad?
     
    • • •
     
    The doctor studied Cary’s stitched up leg where he’d been shot. “That looks great.”
    “When can I go home?” Cary asked the doctor.
    “What?” his sister, Kelly, asked, shaking her head. “You just woke up from a coma and you’re wanting to go home?”
    Cary frowned. “Yeah, I woke up and now I should leave.” He hated hospitals. They reminded him of all the time he’d spent in one when he was fourteen and his mother’s cancer had progressed. He had hated seeing her in that bed, dying a little bit more every day.
    “We’re going to do another CT scan just to make sure we haven’t missed anything. Blood loss and trauma can lead to a victim being in a coma, but it’s odd that you were in a coma for as long as you were,” the doctor said. “But,” he looked from Kelly to Beth, “I think I can say he’s going to be fine.” Then his gaze went back to Cary. “If all the tests come back negative, you should be able to go in three or four days.”
    “You’re joking?? Three or four days?”
    “You were shot and in a coma,” the doc said.
    “Exactly,” Kelly said. “And when he does leave, he should go home with one of us, right?” Her voice dared the doctor to say no. And when he didn’t answer right away, she added, “Don’t you think so?”
    “Well, it wouldn’t be a bad idea,” he answered as if under duress.
    Oh, yes it would. He hated being doted on, and his sisters were as expert on doting as they were matchmaking.
    “Just a few days.” The doc looked at Cary with empathy, then back to Kelly, and walked out. Cary wasn’t sure who the guy was more afraid of, Kelly or him.
    “That’s it, Peewee,” Kelly announced as soon as the door swished shut. “I’m calling your boss and telling him you are gonna retire from the force.”
    “Cary.”
    “What?” Kelly asked.
    “My name is Cary. I stopped going by Peewee in kindergarten!”
    His sister glared at him. “Great. I’ll make sure to use that name when I tell your boss you are quitting.”
    “I’m not quitting. And both of you need to go home and stop hovering. I’m fine. And I don’t need to go home with you when I leave here. I can take care of myself.” Cary looked away from Kelly—his older and dominant sister—who was on one side of his hospital bed to Beth, the more reasonable Calder family member, who stood on the other side.
    “You’re fine?”