6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
William
My life was absolute chaos, but the morning spent with Elijah was a peaceful sanctuary amid the storm. Good God, had I missed him. The time and space had dulled the intensity, but now that we were making strides toward reconnecting, the true depth of how keenly I mourned his absence hit me like a ton of bricks. I'd cling to the promise as tight as I could. Even if he only ever wanted to be friends. Even if I wanted more than friendship.
I held the door to the eatery open with another grin. I couldn't stop smiling, to be frank. The ridiculous butterflies in my stomach were getting out of hand, growing more incensed with every smile he returned, every laugh we shared, each reminiscence we indulged. His quiet thanks as he ducked through the doorway damn near had my heart fit to burst.
Donny’s was as unchanged as every other staple in our small town. The classic aromas of Italian cuisine were as much a foundation for the building as the polished woodwork and cheerful red and white checkered tablecloths. The bustle from the kitchen accentuated the kitschy Italian music piped over the crackling speakers. The display case was overflowing with samples of today’s menu. Donny Jr, the now elderly son of the location's namesake, lorded over the restaurant from his permanently reserved table at the back as his son, Don the third, shouted and waved from behind the counter.
“This place is like a time capsule,” EJ murmured, leading the way toward the register so we could order our lunch.
“Some things never change,” I replied, stealing a glance to see if he caught the double meaning of my comment. The shy tilt of his lips had me convinced he picked up on it and agreed. Or maybe that was just my cautious optimism coloring my perception.
We placed our order at the front, chuckling over the fact that we ordered the same thing, as we always had every time we splurged at Donny’s as kids—meatball parm on a hero, well-done fries, extra large fountain soda Coke. I suspected, like in the past, I'd be finishing off what EJ couldn't finish. The familiarity of it was so moving, I kept finding myself boggling and speechless.
After slipping into the old booth that had been “ours” since the first time we ever visited the eatery, a heavy but not unpleasant silence fell over us. There was so much to say but no words volunteered themselves. Honestly, I didn't want to ruin it by saying the wrong thing or pushing too hard. Part of me wanted to lay it all on the line and plead my case—we could be so good together. We’d always been great together. But I knew in my heart we could be even better. Fear and guilt silenced me before I could impulsively blurt the truth. The arrival of our lunch kept my tongue occupied thereafter.
One major difference between the past and present became immediately apparent once we started eating—teenage me hadn’t ever been as keenly aware of how fucking attractive my best friend was. I'd gotten a lot more comfortable with my sexuality over the years, even if I wasn't completely out of the closet. The result? My stupid brain was hyper focused on every subtle movement EJ made. Watching his mouth open wide to take a bite, tracking the sweep of his tongue over his lips, fixating on the way his cheeks hollowed each time he sucked sauce from his fingertips or took a drink through the straw.
The amount of concentration it took to keep from heavy breathing or squirming in my seat was enough to slow my eating. The heat building in my core was mirrored by the heat radiating from my cheeks. Sweat beaded on my brow as a tumult of arousal and shame swirled in my gut.
“Hey,” EJ murmured, his fingertips landing on the back of my hand and searing my skin like a firebrand. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I squeaked in response. After clearing my throat and taking a drink, I expelled a shaky breath. “I'm good. Great.”
He searched my face, clearly not buying any of my bullshit. With a stern tone, he called me out with only one syllable. “Will.”
“Sorry, sorry.” My eyes dropped to my plate. “You’re very distracting.”
The pressure of his foot pressing against mine under the table had me drawing an audible gasp through my lips. “Distracting?”
“Yeah. Ahem,” I coughed again. “Very. Sorry.”
“William,” he purred with a breathy whisper. “Look at me.”
My eyes obeyed, even if I knew deep down it would be a tragic mistake to comply. Cocoa brown eyes that carried a glint of mischief bored into my soul as soon as our gazes locked.
“Hi.” His grin was slow spreading and full of devilish intent. “There you are.”
“Jesus,” I muttered with baited breath.
He tiptoed his fingers toward my wrist with trepidation. “Tell me what's got you so flushed?”
“I… it’s… fuck it.” Drawing a deep breath, I shifted my hand and let our fingers twine together before squeezing his in a gentle grip. “I was so stupid. Blind until it was too late. You're just so fucking stunning.”
His breath inflated his chest with a sharp inhale.
“I know I said I wanted to try being friends, but that was a lie.” My tongue snuck out to swipe over my lower lip as I formulated my thoughts. “I know it’ll take time and I'm not going to push or pressure you, but I don't want to be friends. I want more.”
He gently swept his thumb over the back of mine. “Will, I wanted more too.”
Wanted . Past tense. My heart plummeted to the bottom of my gut and erased what little appetite I had left. I went to pull my hand away, but he clenched it tight in his grip.
“Hey, no. I'm not saying no. I'm just asking you to give me a little time.” He leaned to try and catch my averted eyes. “A couple weeks ago, I was still convinced you never wanted me and that I still hated you. I don't. But I need a little time to let the dust settle.”
“I'm sorry—”
“I accepted your apology this morning. Stop beating a dead horse.” He tugged my hand across the table and pressed his lips to my knuckles. “Let’s move forward. Slowly.”
Butterflies swooped and swirled again, fluttering in my tempest-tossed gut. “Deal. Slow and steady.”
I mirrored his movements, pulling his hand to my lips so I could impress a lingering kiss to the back of it. My actions earned me a rosy blush and shy smile. It was the biggest win of the last decade. I'd remember this moment for the rest of my life and then some—the moment we made a promise to see what the future held instead of lingering in the past.
We had to let go of one another's hands in order to resume eating, but underneath the table, the foot pressed to mine shifted higher and hooked behind my heel and pulled it closer. He crossed his heels behind my foot and kept them there, a simple and yet profound connection that neither of us commented on for fear of complicating it or making it awkward. Tangled legs, tangled hearts, tangled emotions kept us inextricably linked. Casual conversation flowed much more effortlessly because of this silent connection, like a protective bubble of promise and hope.
“Today has been great.” I reached for my sandwich with a renewed appetite. “What’s next? How can I help?”
“I'm doing a meet and greet party at Mom and Dad’s inn next weekend. Saturday. Do you think you’ll be able to come?”
“What time?”
“Six to nine. Free food and drinks and I have to give a speech .” He shuddered with a crinkle to his nose.
My eyes crinkled with the wattage of my grin. “I get off at five. I can swing by right after work and help set up. You can practice your big speech on me.”
“Sounds like a plan, Will.” His legs squeezed around my ankle and sent the butterflies into another flurry.
We finished our meal, relaxed and buoyed by the easy flow of conversation that spanned all the years we were apart. He told me stories from college and work at the capital. I regaled him with tales from the police academy and funny stories from my time on the force. We chatted about locals and tourists and what felt like a million other little topics, pointedly avoiding heavier things so we didn't ruin this fragile thing blossoming between us. It was the most optimistic and hopeful I had felt in ages. Naturally, reality had to come crashing back to remind me why I couldn't have nice things.
My cell chimed with an alert from the security cameras I'd installed on all the exits of my house. It was like a bucket of ice water cascading over my body as I apologized and pulled my phone from my pocket to open up the feed. Even more ice flooded my veins as I watched the video. There on the screen was my dad, wearing only shorts and flip flops with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. The ninety second clip showed him trudging down the steps and across the lawn. Of course, he'd left the front door wide open.
“Shit…” I sat up straighter, tugging my leg from EJ’s hold. “I’m sorry.”
“Everything okay?” His brow furrowed with a frown.
“Yeah. No. I'm sorry.” I shut off the phone and dropped it to the table with a clatter before scrubbing my face with my hands. “I have to go. I can drop you back at home—”
“It’s fine, Will. Mom can give me a ride back later.” He leaned forward and touched my elbow. “What's up?”
“It's just something at home. I need to get back.” I couldn't bring myself to explain the details of my chaotic life, not after such an amazing day filled with so much promise. I refused to let my family issues ruin what we had again.
“Sure. Okay. Can I text you later?” His voice cracked with the apprehension I knew he still kept as a protective layer around his heart.
“Yes, please. I'd love that, EJ.” Desperate to keep the connection alive, I blanketed his hand on the table with my palm. “I'm sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. We’re okay. Go deal with whatever it is.” He smiled and my hopeless self clung to the expression and his reassurances like a drowning man would cling to a life preserver.
“Thank you. I'll see you around.” I scooted from the booth and climbed to my feet. “Definitely text. Please?”
Yes, I sounded pathetic and desperate, but I was pathetic and desperate. Like a glutton, I hoarded every single sign and signal of hope.
“I will. Home safe, Will.” His eyes lifted up to mine with an open and earnest expression. I wanted to believe he was just as hopeful as I was.
“Home safe, EJ.” Impulsively, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his forehead. “I'll talk to you soon.”
I jogged all the way through town, dodging pedestrians on the sidewalk in my haste to get home. Once I landed in the driver’s seat, I took off. Naturally, Dad wasn't answering his cell. Chances were high that he didn't even have the damn phone on him. I swore under my breath and punched the gas once I cleared the town limits. With any luck, he would stick to the road. He'd never wandered off before, but I knew this day was coming. Defeated and battling a sense of unease, I slowed the truck down once I got about halfway home. For as addled as my father's mind was, he still had stamina and determination on his side. There was no telling how far he'd managed to get.
I scanned the shoulder of the road before casting my gaze further. On one side, the gently swaying grasses of a hayfield bobbed in the warm breeze. Opposite, the sunlight filtered in dappled patterns through the canopy of maple leaves overhead. My truck crept along the winding country road as my eyes swung back and forth and back again for any sign of my father.
A few minutes later, I finally spotted him. Irritation mixed with the lingering fear as I pulled the truck further into the shoulder of the road and threw it into park. I opened the door, but didn't climb all the way out. Instead, I stood on the running board so I could look out over the roof into the field beyond. Dad was making a bee-line through the grass, headed in the direction of town, so far off I almost missed his shirtless form amid the undulating waves of golden green hay.
“Dad!” I cupped my hands around my mouth and bellowed. “Dad!”
He didn't even bother looking up. There was a fifty-fifty chance he either didn't hear me, or was too off in his head to realize he was the target of the shouting.
“God damn it,” I muttered, reaching into the cab of the truck to lay on the horn. The belligerent ass was definitely ignoring me. I collapsed back into the seat, slammed the door shut, threw it in drive and pulled a U-turn that had the tires chirping on the hot asphalt. If I moved quickly, I could cut him off at the access road alongside the field once he popped out.
Dust billowed behind the truck in clouds of rust red clay. The whole effect was like a cheesy cartoon as I bounced and bobbled along the rutted dirt track before skidding to a halt about halfway down. Just as I'd predicted, Dad popped out of the field with a glower of disdain, his wiry torso streaked with sweat, dust, and tufts of grass seed.
“The hell are you doing, Dad?” I hopped from the driver’s seat and moved to stand in front of him.
“Going to town,” he swatted at me with a scowl. “Get.”
“Nah, Dad. You can't walk all that way. You aren't even dressed.” I sidestepped to match his evasive maneuver. “Hey, come on. Get in the truck. I can get you whatever it is you need.”
“I want to go to town!”
“Okay, okay. At least let me drive you. We can head home, grab you a shirt, and we’ll take a drive in together.”
“I don't need no fucking babysitter!” He swatted again, his confusion and frustration causing his temper to flare.
“Not a babysitter. Just a kid and his old man taking a drive.” I kept my voice as calm and disarming as possible as we bobbed and weaved back and forth along the side of the lonely dirt road.
“Quit the bullshit, Willy!” He lunged at me, shoving at my chest with a deeper scowl. “Outta my way!”
My father was never a truly violent man. We’d had our issues before, and perhaps I was making excuses for him that I shouldn't, but he came from a different generation where getting physical was normalized. That combined with the ravages of his dementia left him with little impulse control and a whole hell of a lot of frustration. I wish I could say the left hook that landed on my jaw was startling. Unfortunately, it wasn't.
“Move!”
“Dad, stop!” I grabbed his wrists and held him still as he roared and bellowed and shouted his protests to the sky. It became a back and forth tug of war as I all but dragged him to the passenger side and forced him to climb up into the seat before slamming the door with a growl. He bitched and moaned and smacked at the dash the entire time I jogged around the nose and climbed back behind the wheel.
“I'm gonna drive now. Don't you dare open that door,” I warned with a glare as he reached for the handle. “You're going to hurt yourself.”
“No, I ain't.” His pout would have been comical if this whole situation weren't so Goddamn heartbreaking.
With one eye on him and the other on the road, I executed a three-point turn and began the slow, bumpy trek to the main road. It was a good thing my adrenaline was pumping, because as soon as I pulled up to the asphalt and started turning toward home, his hand snapped out and pushed the steering wheel in the opposite direction. I slammed on the brakes so hard, we both flew forward in our seats before stopping short.
“What the fuck?!” My patience disappeared with the clouds of dust behind us. “Are you fucking insane?!”
I batted his hand off the steering wheel none too gently and continued shouting. “You're going to get one or both of us hurt! Sit down and keep your fucking hands to yourself!”
He muttered under his breath and crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to look at me for the torturously slow drive home. I didn't dare accelerate faster than a crawl lest he pull another stunt like that. By the time I was pulling into our driveway, my nerves were frayed. Before he could reach for the door, I slammed the button to lock it.
“Dad, you know I'm going to have to call your doctor about this, right?”
“Fuck him. And fuck you.” He narrowed his eyes and worked his jaw in a compulsive chewing motion that had become more and more frequent.
“Fine. Fuck everyone, but I'm calling anyway.” I sighed and let my head fall back against the headrest. “This is getting out of hand. I'm just trying to keep you safe—”
“I don't need you!”
“Yeah, you do—”
“No! No, no, no!”
“Dad, please—”
“Shut up!” His fist connected with the dashboard as he screamed. I felt the force of it as if he’d hit me straight in the sternum. I didn't stop him as he reached for the door and pressed the button to unlock it. I watched in utter defeat as he stormed up the walkway and into the house before slamming the door behind him so hard, a spiderweb of cracks appeared in the decorative glass pane. I felt those in my chest, too.
I stared at the door to my childhood home for a long time, unmoving and hollow inside, before I did the hardest thing I would likely ever have to do in my life.
Endless exchanges and switches and nurses and receptionists assaulted my ear before I finally got through to the man I was looking for.
“Hey, Dr. Gerrig. It's Will Doherty Jr. I need to discuss those assisted living arrangements we talked about. I think it's time.”
“I think so too. I'm really sorry, son. I know this is hard.”
An audible gulp was the only reply I could give as a tear escaped my lashes to trail hot as fire down my cheek. Hard? This wasn't just hard—it was absolutely, heart wrenchingly, devastatingly impossible.