Chapter 15 Huntley
HUNTLEY
The tower in which my company resides is fifteen stories. I stare up at it while leaning on my crutch. Oxley didn’t want me to go back to work yet. Not until I no longer need the crutches. Mark said I could go back when I was feeling up to it, and he’d write me a note for whatever I’d like.
For this week, I opted for two half days. Sitting for long periods makes my leg stiff. Thankfully, I have a desk that can go from sitting to standing, but standing isn’t great either.
Now that I’m here, I’m having a lot of anxiety. What if I forgot how to do my job? What if my chair is too uncomfortable? What if my boss is an asshole again now that I’m back?
Chewing the inside of my lip, I continue to stare up. I know which floor is ours without looking. There’s a rainbow flag in the window. It always makes me smile when I see it. Right now is no different.
“Huntley?”
I shift slightly to look at the person who said my name.
Kylie, Ross, and Marnie are walking toward me.
As soon as I face them, smiles split their faces, and Kylie is running toward me.
Thankfully, she doesn’t collide with me.
As unbalanced as I am with a crutch taking much of my weight, I’d have toppled over.
Her arms wrap around me, and she squeezes me tightly. “Oh my god, we were so worried. No one would tell us a thing! You just vanished.”
“I was shot,” I say, and she steps backward. Three gasps meet my explanation. “Admittedly, I didn’t call in for almost a week. I was a little loopy and didn’t think about it.”
“Shot?”
“From the gang violence?”
“Where?”
“How are you still walking?”
I laugh at their million questions and raise my hand to stop them. “I don’t know if it was a gang, but yes, from the hate violence. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time when they were driving down my street.”
“They didn’t catch those people!” Marnie says, placing a hand over her mouth. Her eyes are wide as saucers.
“I know. No one thinks I was a target. I was a happenstance. That means I should be safe enough.”
“You’re so brave,” Kylie says.
“Or stupid,” Ross mutters.
I look back at the building. “How has work been?”
“Nick was fuming for a while that you were out, and then got extra mad one day. The very next day…” Marnie’s voice trails off. She shakes her head.
“Wait till you see him, man,” Ross says. “Come on.” He grips my elbow gently and helps guide me inside. It’s a series of holding doors and waiting for the elevator, flashing our badges, and stopping when someone recognizes me to answer where I’ve been.
I’m not sure what people are expecting, but that I was shot as a victim of hate isn’t it.
I suppose, like so many things, being the victim of a hate crime is firmly listed under everyone’s ‘that’ll never happen to anyone I know or me’ thoughts.
The absolute mortification is almost comical when I prove them wrong.
My wound is healed enough that there’s only a soft bandage over it, and it’s only there so the fabric of my pant leg doesn’t rub it uncomfortably.
I brought pictures on my phone, though. A whole slew of them.
Bob in reception didn’t believe me until I showed him the pictures.
I offered to drop my pants for him to show him my wound if he wanted to continue being an idiot.
My floor is quiet. I’m early because I’m always early. Today, being early wasn’t so much a habit as it was me wanting to get settled without everyone’s eyes on me.
Our desk huddles are set up in groups of four. Ross, Kylie, and Marnie are my huddle buddies. We share workloads and companies. The four of us have been working together for almost a year now.
I sit in my chair and take a breath. That’s the most I’ve walked in ages. I could seriously use a nap. Already I’m glancing at the clock on my phone to count down how long it’ll be before I can go home.
Four hours. I still have four hours!
Would it be so bad to be a kept man? Oxley did offer to take care of me.
It isn’t long before more coworkers begin trickling in. Each one of them stops to talk to me. I’m actually surprised they don’t know why I’ve been absent. I get that HR is confidential, but I never for a minute took Nick as the type of person not to share what he knew.
When Nick comes in and I meet his eyes, I literally see the color drain from his face. It’s… weird as fuck. He doesn’t approach me right away. In fact, an hour goes by before he comes toward me. His hesitance is weird as fuck.
“Welcome back, Huntley,” Nick says.
I smile. “Thank you.”
“How’re you feeling? Do you need a break?”
I’d really like to look at my friends, because I’ve never heard him ask anyone if they need a break. “I’m okay,” I say. “I do have to get to my feet sometimes to relieve the pressure on my leg, but I don’t take too long.”
“Make sure you’re taking care of yourself. Healing is most important.”
I probably stare at him like he’s grown four heads. It takes me a second to nod in acknowledgement of his words. Then he walks away. I watch. We all watch. Everyone around our huddle watches and then exchanges perplexed looks.
“Okay, that was weird,” I mutter.
“Right?!” Marnie whispers. “There’s been a series of those interactions since the day he suddenly looked scared of his shadow. It’s wild.”
“I don’t know what to make of it,” I admit. “What does it mean?”
“He’s being kind,” Bella in the huddle behind ours says. “It’s almost more unsettling than when he was being an asshole.”
“Like someone is wearing a Nick suit,” Jackie says, from behind me.
Huh.
It’s difficult to concentrate on work for many reasons. Not only the conundrum of Nick’s sudden change, but my leg keeps twinging. I’m tired. Thirsty. The bathroom is so far away, and I’m winded by the time I get back. It’s making me cranky.
I go between standing and sitting so many times that Nick comes out of his office again to check in with me and tells me I can go home early if I’m not feeling well.
I’m not feeling well. The constant ache in my leg is making my stomach sour, but leaving right now feels…
weird. It’s only four hours, for fuck’s sake. I can handle four hours.
Besides, I’m still wigged out about this new Nick and am waiting for him to jump out and yell, “Fooled you. You’re fired.” Or some shit like that.
It’s rough making it to the end of my shift, but eventually, noon arrives, and my huddle accompanies me downstairs. Oxley is waiting at the door for me.
“I’ll be back on Thursday,” I tell them.
“Get some rest,” Kylie says. “You looked like you were in a lot of pain for the past hour.”
I shake my head, sighing. “You know that feeling when you just can’t get comfortable no matter how you sit, and it makes you ache?
That’s what I feel like. After an hour or so, no matter how I sit or stand, I’m uncomfortable, and it aggravates my leg.
I don’t even think it’s pain so much as… discomfort. Which is distracting.”
“Go take a nap for us,” Ross says. “All your yawning is putting me to sleep.
I snort, but the girls nod their agreement. “Good luck with Nick. I want to know everything that happens when I leave.”
They promise a report, and I join Oxley. “Did your boss mistreat you?” he asks, likely having overheard our conversation.
“No. It was just…” I shake my head. “It’s one thing to get his weird phone call, but seeing it in person? It’s so strange. He even looks different, Ox. I can’t explain it.”
“How does he look different?”
More and more, Oxley doesn’t correct me when I call him Ox. I smile, regardless of what we’re talking about, when he lets me get away with it.
“I don’t know. Maybe because he’s not scowling at us and looking at us like we’re ants. I spent so much of my shift covertly studying him, trying to figure out how he looks different, but his appearance hasn’t changed.”
Oxley hums. “Are you ready to go home?”
“Yes. I need a nap. How did I ever make it through an entire shift before? I feel like I haven’t slept in a month.”
“Maybe four hours is too long to start,” Oxley says as we slowly make our way down the sidewalk toward his car. His arm is around my waist. Between him and my crutch, I don’t think either of my legs is taking much weight. He’d likely pick me up if I suggested it.
“Anything less than four hours isn’t worth going in for,” I counter. “It’ll be fine. I’ve been spoiled with napping whenever I feel like it for too long.”
“There’s nothing wrong with napping while you’re recovering.”
On the surface of that statement, I agree. But I have a feeling that if I allow myself to fall into the napping routine for too long, I’ll likely become spoiled and never want to work again. Once more, I’m reminded of his offer to quit my job and let him take care of me.
I don’t want to waste my life away napping, though. I’ll miss so much.
Oxley continues to ask about work on the drive home. Once we’re in the apartment building, I let him pick me up and carry me the rest of the way. Seriously, I’m tired. That first day back to work after being out for so long recovering from something is rough. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
I’m surprised by the boxes in the living room when we get into his apartment. I recognize my bedding folded at the end of the couch. There’s a bag on the floor that’s mine, too.
“How did this get here?” I ask.
“I picked it up.”
I look at him. “But… how did you know where I live? How did you get it all?”
Oxley studies my face for a minute. “You agreed that I can keep you. Didn’t you?”
“Well… yes, but…”
“Perhaps that meant something different to you,” he says, frowning. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”
I shake my head. “But seriously, how did you get this stuff?”
“I went to your apartment. A man named Gavin let me in. I settled up on your rent for the last month and the next three to allow them time to find another roommate without struggling not to be short on rent. Then I packed your belongings and brought them here before picking you up from work.”
“You- I- how did—”
“Are you angry with me?” he asks when I can’t get my words out.
“No, I’m just… startled. A little perplexed.”
“Did I misunderstand our conversation?”
I look into his dark eyes and sigh. “I think we both misunderstood.”
“Do you want to go back?”
“No, Ox. I want to stay here.”
His arms tighten. “Good. I have lunch for you. Then you can nap for a while.”
“Are you going to survive with those boxes cluttering the living room while I nap?”
“No, they’re going to be hidden in the spare room for a while.” He presses his lips together as he sets me in the kitchen chair. “We’ll deal with them tomorrow. I think I can handle them for that long.”
I grin and look back at my lunch.