The Alignment Read Online Free

away. She can get more if she does. Not my problem.
    I get back in my truck to wait for the tow. A hot trickle runs down my cheek, and I brush it away. My hand comes back with a smear of red. I turn the rearview mirror toward me. Crap. The gash above my eyebrow has opened again, oozing blood down my face. I look down. And my shirt. I knew it needed stitches and shouldn’t have put it off. I have to honor the promise I made to myself that I can sew up any part of my body except my face. I’m neither skilled nor patient enough to do a decent job, and I don’t want to end up looking like Frankenstein’s monster.
    I wipe the blood on my jeans. Just what I wanted to do tomorrow—drop by the clinic for stitches. At least this time I have a good excuse for the gash. Too bad I don’t care.
    The tow arrives, and I give him instructions. I manage to get the bleeding to stop, so I drive to the hardware store in Casper that’s open an hour later. Figuring I won’t have a useful vehicle for a while, I run some errands while I still can. My appearance inspires a variety of strange looks, but nothing I’m not used to. These people should know to expect it from me by now, but apparently this little amount of blood is enough to throw them into a panic. If they had any idea the amount of blood I see regularly, my appearance today wouldn’t be worth a second glance. Maybe the next time I have a really good run-in I should just come straight out into public without cleaning up first. Now that reaction might give me something to laugh about.
    With my errands complete, I drive my truck home to unload my ladder and replace it with my ramp and tie-downs. I’ll need to haul the Ninja when she’s done with the truck—I’ll be stuck with two vehicles in the same spot and only one driver to get them home. Then I’m off to the Joseph cabin. It’s late, and I don’t want to encourage any obligatory greeting, so I pull up and kill the engine immediately. The mutt on the front porch stands but makes no attempt to approach. I leave the key in the ignition and head down to the river on foot. Once I reach the shore, I look up to the night sky for Orion to guide me home.
    *
    My weary eyes open to the morning sunlight that hits hard at the back of my head. Another killer headache and I only have myself to blame. After a bowl of cereal and a mug of coffee at the counter, I shower, throw on a clean white T-shirt, jeans, and work boots. I slip on my riding jacket and grab my helmet. It’s a quick drive to the clinic on the Ninja, and I know getting this done first thing is the only way I’ll follow through. I dread this. The clinic itself doesn’t bother me. It’s the concentration of cheerful people that really gets me down. I’ve been alone so long it’s hard to remember how to get along with people the way everyone else does. I’m incapable of putting on a smile and making small talk. I feel like I’m dragging people down into my abyss.
    While I’m signing in to see the nurse, the frosted window slides open. Ann takes the clipboard and initials by my name. “What have you done now?”
    I tilt my head so she can see.
    “That’s a nasty one. You just missed your eye. Still self-pay?”
    I nod.
    “Same credit card?”
    I nod again.
    “Have a seat.”
    I drop my helmet on a chair and sit next to it. I stare at the magazines on the wall rack, too lazy to get up and retrieve one.
    “Trey Bevan?”
    I rise.
    Rachel beams at me. “Again so soon? Fell off another ladder already?”
    The ever popular running joke with the nurses. Every time I show up it’s because I’ve fallen off a ladder. I gave up trying to provide good excuses a long time ago. She walks me to an exam room where the nurse is waiting for me in the perfect personification of my crappy luck.
    “This is Nurse Gilchrist. She’s new, so go easy on her. Okay, Trey?” Rachel hands Nurse Gilchrist my chart and hurries out. The door closes behind her. It’s like I’ve just