Chapter 17 #2
“Me too, but perhaps the same person who tried to keep me away from you is giving it another try.”
Will remains quiet for a few moments before saying, “It makes sense that it was him.”
“Is it about his friendship with Joel? I don’t understand why it bothers him so much.”
Will once more grows quiet before he says, “Don’t try to make sense of this man. Does your aunt know?”
“Yes. She waited for me to get back home, all ready to fight. But I think we’re okay. I was honest with her. I wish…” He stops himself from saying he wishes that Will could be as honest with the rest of the town about what truly happened with Joel.
“You wish?” Will asks.
“I don’t know. I wish for some more time without drama, I suppose.”
He can almost feel Will tensing on the other side of the line. “As I said, I’m sorry.”
“What? No, don’t be sorry. Please don’t take the blame here. Storms always pass, right?”
“Not all storms, Owen. But for what it’s worth, I fancy you now as much as I did yesterday and the day before.”
Owen smiles. “You fancy me, Will Thomas?”
Will chuckles quietly. “I do. I missed you this evening, but it’s good that you spoke with your aunt.”
“How was it at Rodie’s?”
“Fine.”
“Will.”
“More tense than usual. A few more people sending nasty looks, a few more accidental shoves. All manageable.”
None of this should be manageable—or acceptable.
Owen rubs his face, feeling tired. “I’ll stay with you tomorrow night.
We can make something to eat.” He doesn’t suggest for them to go out together and show everyone how little they care about others’ opinions, since despite everything, he is scared.
He’s a stranger here, and he doesn’t want to test the length people might go to to send him a message.
“I’d be happy to have you here tomorrow,” Will says. “And thank you for calling.”
“You know I can’t stay away from my muse too long. Are you naked?”
“Afraid I’m fully dressed.”
“You’re not. You’re lying naked on the grass by the river with the sun beginning to set.” Owen closes his eyes. “I see it clearly. It’s beautiful.”
“I envy your imagination. Have a good night, sweetheart.”
“Good night, Will.”
*
The following morning, he stays in bed longer than he needs to. He had planned to hang out in town and maybe buy a few new shirts, but he isn’t sure if it’s a good idea.
Did Will also feel like this? As if he were in a prison without walls?
Owen grunts and pushes himself out of bed.
He should be braver than this. If he could survive the hell back home and the fight with Lee, he can damn well survive whatever this town can throw at him.
He takes a shower and gets dressed, then walks out into a misty morning, though the air is warm.
His stomach grumbles, so he decides to start with his favorite bakery.
The first signs of change come when he reaches the town’s main square.
By now, he recognizes a decent number of the residents, enough to wave and get waved back, but there’s no one waving at him today.
Some hurry to look away, some shake their heads, and one man even spits on the ground.
What surprises Owen the most is the look of pity on their faces, as if he’s caught a disease.
He wants to be the kind of guy who doesn’t give a damn, but it’s a horrible feeling. He itches to return home and lock himself inside until his shift at the library, but he senses that giving up now will only lead to more sacrifices until he’s just a man who rarely leaves his aunt’s house.
He reaches the bakery and goes to the counter to order a sandwich and a coffee. The teen behind the register is named Andy, and he’s the owners’ son. He’s usually friendly, even though he clearly hates his job.
“Man, I’ve been hearing your name a lot since yesterday.”
Owen clears his throat. “Good things, I reckon.”
Andy snorts. “Yeah, right.” He leans closer and lowers his voice. “I’ve got no problem with gay people, or with Will, but I remember people talking about that shit with the sheriff’s son for so long, I couldn’t stand it anymore. Now they’re talking about it again. Thanks for that.”
“I…” He stops himself from apologizing. “Maybe people should mind their own fucking business.”
“Yeah, good luck with that.”
Owen orders his food and coffee. As he waits, he pretends to be interested in the pastries on display so he won’t need to make eye contact with anyone, but he still feels the weight of their gaze.
Once he has his things, he realizes he’s not going to be as brave as he thought he’d be. He skips the rest of his plans and hurries back home, where the walls of his room can’t judge him.
*
Francie shakes her head as Owen walks toward the circulation desk for his shift. She’s holding a book, her glasses low on her nose. “Looking grumpy is my thing, Owen. You’re supposed to be the friendly librarian, remember?”
“I have reasons to be less friendly today.”
“I’m aware. Go make us tea.”
Before Owen can go to the small kitchen area, someone walks behind him and says, “I’m afraid I lost my desire to read today, Francie.”
“That’s okay, Henry. I always suspected you were the coloring book type of reader.”
Owen gives her a small, grateful smile, then goes to make them tea.
It dawns on him that his presence might be a risk to the success of the library.
His favorite place in town, and he might be putting it in danger by association alone.
Feeling even gloomier than before, he walks with the two cups of tea to the circulation desk, where he slumps into a chair.
Francie puts her book down and takes the tea, blowing on it softly before saying, “So.”
“So.”
“Welcome to small-town drama.”
He shakes his head. “It’s more than drama, it’s… evil.”
“Are you going to cut your ties with Will?”
The blunt question hits him like a punch. “Hell no.”
“Then I suggest you find a way to live through this mess—like Will has.”
“He would’ve left town a long time ago if it weren’t for his sister.”
Francie nods and sighs into her cup. “It really does feel like someone up there decided to give Will Thomas the short end of the stick.” She meets Owen’s eyes. “Maybe you’re meant to turn things around for him.”
“Then I don’t think I’m excelling in my work. The opposite, really.”
“Let Will decide what works for him. I do, however, advise you two to keep a low profile for a while.”
Owen nods, the cup warm between his palms. “Back then, did you believe the things they said about Will?”
She hesitates before answering. “Joel was clearly unwell, but he was still charming, still a golden boy. I was a friend of Will’s mom, and I hoped for him to come out and fight for his version of the truth, but since he didn’t, it was easy to take Joel’s word, as unsettling as his stories were.”
“But you knew that Joel was crazy.”
“Please don’t try to find logic in what happened. People love siding with the victim, and Joel did a good job presenting himself as such. I know Will a bit better now, and it’s clear to me that Joel was lying. I’m sure that many around here think the same.”
“They don’t act like it.”
“It’s always those who judge who are the loudest, but it doesn’t make them the majority. Nor does it make them right.”
“I hope so.” He glances at the empty library. “I think I’m bad for business. Do you want me to take some time off, or—?”
“This is a library, Owen, not McDonald’s. We can survive with fewer customers.”
He chuckles. “I wouldn’t mind a burger, actually.”
“Then you should aim higher than McDonald’s. Now, I’m off. Enjoy your shift and working on your posters.”
“My posters? I’m not doing another book club. It will be a disaster.”
It seems she’s about to claim otherwise, but she nods instead. “I see your point. Then try to read something funny; it will brighten your mood.”
He’s left alone in the library, looking for something light to read, but nothing catches his eye, so he ends up sitting behind the desk and staring into space.
Some people do show up, mostly parents with their children.
They act polite, at least, but maybe it’s because they haven’t yet heard that their librarian is a sinner.
Toward the end of his shift, when Owen is about to clean up for the day, the door opens. His heart drops to the floor. Shit.
The sheriff comes over, his uniform tight around his gut. His expression is sober, and Owen wishes there were other people here but the two of them.
“Evening,” the sheriff says and stops in front of the circulation desk.
Owen swallows, but there’s still a lump in his throat. “Evening, sir.”
“Is it always so busy here?”
“Not really.”
The sheriff gives him a knowing look. “I wonder why that is.”
Owen reminds himself he’s done nothing wrong, and despite his bleak history with the law, he has helped the law around here. “Maybe if people were less driven by wrong information, things would have been different.”
The sheriff’s glare is chilling, but Owen doesn’t look away. If Joel hadn’t been the sheriff’s son, Will wouldn’t have been so scared to leave him. Hell, he would have likely gotten him arrested.
“You’re a good kid,” the sheriff says, though it doesn’t come across as a compliment. “You found yourself—or rather, put yourself—in a very problematic situation. I can understand that Will Thomas can be seductive. He did the same to my Joel.”
Owen bites the inside of his cheek. He would have laughed at the sheriff’s face if he didn’t fear a slap or an arrest. Truth and lies don’t matter when it’s your own flesh and blood.
“You came here to leave your troubles behind, and I know that your aunt is very proud of you. It will be unwise to throw it all away.”
“I don’t feel like I’m doing that, sir.”
“If enough good people tell you that you’re wrong, maybe you should listen.”
“Even good people can be wrong. And if I am making a mistake, it’s for me to handle.”
“It might end up being too much for you to handle. In fact, I guarantee it will be.”