Chapter 2
Addie is on the couch when I get home, her phone in her hand, staring at the screen with a small frown that doesn’t look right on her usually bright, bubbly face.
“Hey,” I say, dropping my keys on the counter and stretching, like that will do anything at this point.
She blinks, noticing I’m here for the first time, turning her frown into a neutral line. “Oh, hi. How was work?”
“It was work.” I shrug off my jacket, hanging it on the hook beside the door. “What’s wrong?”
She looks back down at her phone, her lips turning down even more. “Just a thing with Em.”
Now it’s my turn to frown. Addie and Emmett are the best pair of friends I’ve ever seen. They’ve been inseparable since they met in Kindergarten. And he was really there for Addie last year when Jess left. But I would be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed a strain between them lately.
“He told his mom,” she speaks up when I don’t ask.
“About—”
“Yeah. He came out to her.”
“How’d she take it?”
Addie picks at a loose thread on the couch cushion. “Really well, apparently. She’s taking him to get his hair cut tomorrow.”
“That’s great!” Emmett has been out to us for two years, but only now has started to work up the courage to tell his own family.
“Yeah. I guess.”
Her words and her tone don’t match, and I get the feeling I might be missing something here. Addie’s always supported her friend through his transition. I don’t know why she wouldn’t be happy about this news.
“How are you feeling about that?”
She looks up, narrowing her eyes. “I’m fine, Dad.”
“Good. I’m glad. I just can’t help but notice that something is bugging you. Is it the haircut he chose?” I offer, trying to lighten the mood, but I’ve never been someone people consider funny.
That seems to be the wrong thing to say anyway, because the frown is back. “No. I’m sure it’ll look great. But it’s different. And I’m tired of things changing. I know that’s a messed-up thing to say, okay?”
I’m starting to realize this isn’t about Emmett at all. Her mom left, and her entire life changed, and now, she’s attaching that to her best friend’s hair of all things, and I don’t have a damn thing to say to help.
I don’t get the chance to anyway.
“But it’s fine. I know I’m being silly. It’s only hair,” she says with a wave, and the next time she looks up, her smile is back. “Do you want to watch something?”
“Actually.” I move around to the couch, sitting beside her, taking the brush off for what it is. It is only hair after all. “I have something to tell you.”
“Okay,” she says slowly, already reading the room, something I’ve never been particularly good at.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees. I’ve been turning it over all day, thinking about how to say it. But there’s no good way to, so I just do it. “Uncle Will is coming home tomorrow.”
The room is silent as Addie stares at me, processing the words I said. The name that has lived in the closet of this family history for years. That we dance around, finally spoken out into the open.
“Like, tomorrow tomorrow?”
I nod. “Frank’s picking him up in the morning. I’m going over when they get back to help get him settled in.”
I guess I shouldn’t have worried, because the smile that takes over her face is the realest thing I’ve seen in a while.
“Oh my God!” She picks up her phone, typing quicker than my eyes can process before setting it down.
“This is so exciting! Wait. Does he even know about Ollie? Does he know what I look like now?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t had contact with him—”
“I was literally a kid the last time he saw me.” She cuts me off, standing up. “Can we have him over for dinner tomorrow?” She turns with an excited bounce and a clap while I watch her, completely lost. “You definitely can’t cook, but I can make pasta! I’m sure Uncle Will likes pasta.”
I open my mouth.
Close it.
“We’ll see how tomorrow goes first,” I say slowly.
She frowns, glaring at me like she’s the parent. “You’re not excited.”
“I didn’t say that.”
She gives me a long look before deciding to let it go, settling back onto the couch, ending up with her head on my shoulder. “I used to write him letters,” she says after an extended silence. “Mom didn’t want me to, but I did anyway. He always wrote me back. I think he was sad back then.”
I put my arm around her, trying not to let those words affect me. “I’m sure he was.”
She nods, and we stay there for a long, tense moment before she sits up and grabs the remote. “Okay. We’re watching something funny tonight.”
“Be nice, Dad,” Addie says, climbing out of the car in front of her school.
“What? Why wouldn’t I be nice?”
She gives me a look over her shoulder that says she thinks I’m an asshole, and okay, that’s fair. I guess her mother and I never gave her a reason to think differently. We were always hard on Will.
But it became difficult not to be.
I watch until pink hair disappears into the crowd of other kids, but I still sit in the drop-off line longer than necessary, chewing on the words.
Be nice.
I can do that.
I pull out of the high school parking lot and head toward one of Rosehill’s bigger neighborhoods, where Frank and Joyce have lived for forty years. I think I could get there blindfolded. I know every turn, every stop sign, every pothole by heart.
I’ve been making this drive since I was sixteen years old.
I spend most of it trying not to think about what I’m walking into, but it drifts in anyway.
Will was arrested over seven years ago for dealing drugs. It surprised me when I heard the news. I always knew he was on them. I hated it, and I tried to offer support and resources, but he always shot me down, and eventually, we gave up on trying.
But he never seemed like the type to get involved in actual crime. I guess when you’re desperate…
Anyway. I’m trying not to think about that.
It’s just that I don’t know what to expect. I’ve never met anyone who went to jail, unless you count a buddy from college who went for the night after he had too much to drink. I don’t know what being in prison for seven years does to a person.
Especially a person I used to consider family.
Frank’s truck is already in the driveway, so I don’t let myself linger in the car the way I wish I could. Joyce meets me at the front door before I’ve even made it up the porch steps, pushing open the screen door with the look she always gets when Will is around.
Sad, worried, scared, the combination a grim reminder that this is her son.
“They just got back,” she says, keeping her voice low. “Maybe ten minutes ago.”
I follow her inside, shutting the door behind me. “Where is he?”
“In the living room,” she says. “Frank went to lie down. He wasn’t feeling well.” I nod, making a mental note to check on my father-in-law before I leave.
Joyce stays in the middle of the kitchen, and I take that as my cue to do this alone. I can do this for them after everything they’ve done for me. It must be hard for them, after all this time. I take a step into the living room, after giving her what I hope is a reassuring smile.
And then he’s right there.
He’s sitting on the floral couch they’ve had forever, holding a coffee cup in both hands, looking down at the drink like it holds the secret to the universe. He’s wearing a grey zip-up and sweatpants. His light hair is buzzed.
He’s bigger than I remember.
His shoulders fill out the jacket, and his cheeks are full. He’s not the hollowed-out, rumpled version of himself from Addie’s birthday party, that much I can see. And I can’t help the sigh of relief, because it really is good to see him looking healthy. It’s been so long.
That makes him look up.
“Oh. Hey,” he says, looking at me for only a moment.
I move further into the room, stopping in front of him before deciding maybe he would prefer for me to sit down so we’re on equal footing. I claim Frank’s recliner off to the side. “How are you doing?”
His brows furrow, but he doesn’t look up. “Fine.”
“How was the drive?”
“Long.”
“Are you hungry?”
He shakes his head once, and I let that be that. He obviously doesn’t want to talk right now, and who can blame him? It must be strange being back home after all this time. Instead, I take stock of him, a habit I’ve developed after being a doctor for so long.
And I can’t help but notice that his hands are shaking.
A constant tremor around the mug. My mind goes to withdrawal, but I ignore that thought. Surely it’s been long enough now. Maybe he’s scared. Anxious. Overwhelmed.
That’s not my expertise, so I don’t mention it.
“Addie’s excited you’re home,” I say instead.
He looks up at that, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips, his eyes brightening somewhat. “Yeah?”
“Uh-huh. She’s already planning on having you over for dinner, so prepare yourself. The cooking around our house isn’t all that great these days.”
He opens his mouth, like he might want to ask. I don’t know how much Frank told him about Jess, but I’m assuming very little. Another thing that’s changed since we last saw him.
Thankfully, he doesn’t.
I stay another few minutes, filling the silence with small talk that he doesn’t respond to, and then I excuse myself to find Joyce in the kitchen, standing at the counter with her own untouched cup of coffee, looking about the same as her son in the other room.
“He’s always been quiet,” she says, taking the words right out of my mouth. “But not like that.”
“He got out this morning,” I say, leaning against the counter beside her, pulling her into a side hug. “Give him a few days.”
She nods, but I know she’s apprehensive.
So am I. But I don’t show it.
“We’re going to set him up at the motel at the edge of town,” she says. “It’s cheap, but it’s mostly vacant these days. We would let him stay with us, but—”
I nod, no need for her to explain that she doesn’t trust him yet. “Of course,” I say. “I’ll take him.”
The car ride is quiet, like it was at the Davis’ house, a tense silence full of… I don’t even know what. But I’m determined to push past it. I want Will to get back on his feet, and making it awkward isn’t helping.
“You haven’t met Ollie,” I say, with a smack against the steering wheel like I just thought of it.
“He’s six. Started first grade this year.
” I keep my focus on the road when I feel his eyes on me.
“He doesn’t like his new teacher, but I’m sure he’ll settle in once he gets to know her. He’s a good kid.”
I pause before I look over, meeting his gaze. “He has eyes like yours.”
Will looks away, choosing to stare at the window instead of the side of my face, and I don’t know why that makes me relax, but it does.
I need to do better, I tell myself, remembering my daughter’s warning to be nice.
We drive in silence through the center of Rosehill, and it mostly looks the same, but there are a few new buildings sprouting up here and there. Old businesses that have been replaced. The new park.
I wonder if it feels weird to him, but he doesn’t say anything about it, so I don’t either.
At a stop sign, I shift in my seat, something to do in the awkward silence. But it only makes it worse. His arm is right there, closer than I thought, resting on the console between us.
Our arms brush.
It’s nothing. A brief moment of contact before he pulls away, still as a statue in his own space. But when I settle back into my spot, the light turning green and pressing on toward the motel, I can feel that he’s watching me.
One thing about Will that hasn’t changed. The man has a serious staring problem.
I don’t know if it’s the general not giving a fuck or that he really doesn’t get that it might make people uncomfortable if you look at their face for an extended period of time.
Maybe it’s me.
I’m not exactly nice to look at, with the wrinkles around my dark brown eyes and my nose that I think is too large, the mustache that wasn’t there the last time I saw him, along with the twenty extra pounds—
I flex my hands on the wheel and remind myself to give him some grace.
“I’ll come in with you,” I say when I park my car in front of the motel lobby, turning to look at him. “Help you get settled.”
He meets my eyes, scanning my face, the same as I’m scanning his, for any flicker of emotion. He looks away before I notice anything, but he doesn’t deny my help, so that’s something.
The woman at the front desk seems to strain herself to look up from her computer when we come in, smacking her gum as she talks, her eyes darting between us. “One bed?”
“Oh. Um. Yes,” I stutter at her implication, while Will hangs back, his duffle on his shoulder and his hands in his pockets. “A single will be fine. And we’ll need the room for at least a few weeks.”
It’s not a bad room, I tell myself, standing in the doorway of room two. It’s clean enough. On the first floor. A window and a bed with a green comforter. A TV that probably has a few channels. It’s perfectly fine. Certainly better than where he was living before.
If Addie saw this, she would be making me bring him home this instant.
Will sets his bag on the bed and stands in the middle of the room, taking it in without complaint.
It breaks my heart that this is the state of his life.
He’s family. I’ve been with Jess since I was younger than Addie, and he was younger than that. Whatever happened between us, that’s still true. I never wanted this for him, and it’s one of my biggest regrets that I couldn’t have helped him before it came to this.
It wasn’t for the lack of trying.
I dig in my jacket pocket for the pen I know is still there from my shift at the hospital and grab the complimentary notepad from the dresser to write my number down.
“If you need anything,” I say, pulling off the page and holding it out to him. “Call me.”
He looks at it. Then at me. “I don’t have a phone.”
Right. Of course he doesn’t. I set the paper back down on the dresser. “I’ll bring you one. I’m sure they’ll let you use the one in the office if there’s an emergency.”
He doesn’t say anything else, staring at me with those teal eyes that somehow look even sadder in the dim light of the room.
When I get back to my car, I sit in the parking lot and pull my phone out, pressing call on Jess’ number, while the vacant sign flickers.
It goes straight to voicemail.