Chapter 14
Three weeks is enough time to get over him.
I’m looking at the situation clearly now. I’m a doctor. I work in science. With facts. And in this case, the facts are that Will rejected me. He laughed in my face when I told him how I felt. He is my brother-in-law, no matter the state of my marriage.
He’s a criminal who spent the last seven years in prison, and even longer destroying his life.
Those are not the details of someone I should be pining for.
So I’m not.
I’m over it.
It’s out of my system.
My budding relationship with Karen is helping with that.
We’ve been out four more times, and I’ve been making a real effort to be present.
She’s funny. Direct with her opinions. Ollie and I attended her son’s birthday party over the weekend, and the two boys got along well, running around the park together, while Karen and I talked and laughed, ignoring the rest of the guests.
We’ve slept together one more time since, and it was better than the last, because I was prepared for it.
She’ll never be Will, but he isn’t an option. And I’m a grown man with a family and responsibilities, and I don’t have the time to want something that isn’t going to happen.
So I’m moving past it.
As long as I keep a distance, I can almost forget everything that happened between us. Our kiss, his hands on my body, the way he saw all of me and taunted me, while taking me further than I’ve ever been with his fist—
Almost.
Joyce’s church does a donation drive every year around the holidays, and she’s been running it since before I met her, and that means the rest of us are automatically volunteered to help. The kids usually have fun, even though Addie is complaining because she already had plans with Emmett.
I might have let her go, but it feels even more important to come this year, to keep up the tradition even though Jess isn’t here.
It’s already busy when we arrive, tables set up in rows with donations sorted by category, volunteers standing behind them in pairs. Ollie drops my hand the moment we’re through the door, making a beeline for a kid from his class.
Joyce finds us before we have to wonder where to go, pulling Addie into a hug first and then me. “Thank you for coming,” she says when she pulls back, squeezing my arms.
“You know we look forward to helping out,” I remind her as she turns to scan the room.
And that’s when I see him.
Will is standing near the back wall behind a big box of canned goods, wearing a red flannel shirt open over a t-shirt. “I thought it might be good for him,” Joyce says, following my gaze. “To be out among people, help out.”
“Of course,” I say, and it’s true, I just wish my avoidance didn’t have to be interrupted.
“Why don’t you go over and help him? Make sure everything is running smoothly.” She frames it as a suggestion, but I know it’s not.
I hold my breath as I make my way across the room, weaving between people. Will doesn’t say anything when I come to stand shoulder to shoulder with him, picking up a can from his pile, but I feel his eyes on me more than once.
We work in silence for a while. Soup here, vegetables there, the chatter from the nearby tables filling the silence between us, and I think, okay. So far so good. I don’t have any urge to kiss him. Maybe the distance is working. If we can get through this without talking—
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Will says, interrupting my peace.
“No, I haven’t.”
He turns toward me, but I focus on the can of corn I’m holding. “I haven’t seen you once this week. Or last. Not in the hallway, not in the break room.”
“Maybe I was with a patient. I’m very busy, you know.”
“Sure you are.”
“I am.”
“Mm.”
I set the can down, turning to face him, my body deflating when I look at him. So much for my crush being gone. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I don’t want you to say anything. I’m just pointing out that you’ve been avoiding me.”
He looks down, his gaze roaming over my body, and I’m hit with the memory of his eyes doing the exact thing in the mirror, my clothes on the floor. My cheeks are hot at the image, I can feel it, and I know he can see it when his lips slide up into a smirk.
He reaches out, pinching the fabric of my sweater, letting it go. “How’s Karen?”
“She’s—” I pause, feeling like this is a test. For what, I have no idea. “She’s good.”
“Good,” he says, turning back to his stack of food, handing me a can of chickpeas without looking at me. “I think this is a bean.”
We work our way through the rest of the donations in silence, somehow more uncomfortable than before. It feels like he’s punishing me, but I don’t know what. Karen is a good woman, and it’s been over a year since Jess left. I’m not doing anything wrong.
It happens when I’m distracted, helping Addie at her table, organizing toys when she doesn’t know what to do with one that doesn’t work. I don’t notice anything wrong at first, but we both look up when a blanket of quiet falls over the entire room.
There’s a man near the canned goods table. I know him vaguely. Travis, I think. His wife and kids are patients, but he isn’t. He went to school a few years behind me, works at the auto shop. He’s a big guy, tall and broad, and his teenage son is standing off to the side with his arms crossed.
They’re both looking at Will.
“They let anybody in here these days,” he says, loud enough that Addie and I can hear from across the room.
“I know they need help.” He turns to his son like they’re having a conversation, even though his words are meant for Will. “Didn’t realize that included criminals.” He sets down the can he’s holding, turning toward the man.
I’m already moving, but it doesn’t feel fast enough.
“Probably casing the place. Seeing what all he can steal. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“What was that?” Will speaks up, and it would sound intimidating, even to me, if he didn’t look the way he did that first week when no one would hire him.
“I think you heard me.”
That seems to set him off. He shoves between the tables pushed together, heading straight for the man determined to rile him up. “Will.” I slide in front of him, stopping him with a hand on his arm. “Come on, he’s not worth it.”
He doesn’t spare me a glance, his eyes fixed over my shoulder, and I can feel the tension in his body, vibrating through him.
“Somebody ought to tell Dr. Murphy,” Travis continues, addressing the growing audience, “that nobody wants a convicted drug dealer at a family event. We got kids here.”
At that, Will moves. I grab his arm fully now, trying to stop him from doing something stupid, but he pulls out of my grip, hard enough that I take a step back. “Fuck off, Nolan.”
To my surprise, he doesn’t go after Travis. He turns toward the exit, his hands in his pockets and his head down, the room watching him go in silence.
I look after him, and I start to follow when I hear Frank behind me. “You need to leave, boy.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said you need to leave,” he repeats, his voice taking on a tone I’ve never heard. “Before things get ugly.”
Travis looks around, finding no backup, no one willing to stand up against Frank Davis, and the mean look he’s been wearing falls from his face. “Whatever, man.”
Joyce is standing with her hand pressed against her chest, watching her husband as he picks up his coffee and goes back to the group of older men he was standing with before.
“What are you all looking at?” he says to the group, leading everyone to go back to their stations, more shaken up than before.
He’s outside around the side of the building, leaning against the brick, staring up at the stars. When he hears me, he groans. “Go away.”
I ignore him, stopping at his side, leaning against the wall. His jaw is clenched, and his breath is coming out in puffs of smoke from the cold. This close to his face, I can see faint freckles on his nose, and his cheeks turning a splotchy red.
“I don’t know why I even try,” he says, keeping his eyes on the sky. “Walked in there thinking maybe people might give me a chance this time, trying to do something good.” He shakes his head. “And that’s what I get.”
“He was one idiot—”
“He’s everybody.” He pushes off the wall, but only takes a few steps forward to turn around and face me.
“It doesn’t matter where I go. Doesn’t matter what I do.
That’s all they’re ever gonna see when they look at me.
Shit. I might as well go back to the drugs.
At least then I wouldn’t have to feel like this. ”
“Don’t say that.” I keep my voice steady, even as his words have nausea creeping up my throat. “You know that’s not the answer. And it’s not all anyone sees.”
He scoffs, a challenge in his eyes. “Oh yeah? What do you see?”
“An asshole,” I say, no point in sugarcoating it. I know that’s not what he needs.
And after a long pause as he recalibrates, the corner of his mouth moves up slightly. “Right back at you, Doc.”
“But.” I follow him off the wall, taking three steps to stand in front of him. “An asshole who shows up early for work every day. Who doesn’t cut corners, even when I’d have no idea if he did. Who is better with my kids than I’ve ever been.”
He looks down, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth.
“And who,” I continue, taking another step forward. “looks really good in a flannel shirt.” My eyes go down and back up briefly, and I’m aware that I probably shouldn’t be saying it, but I do anyway.
Will looks up, meeting my eyes, his lips parting as he actually smiles. “Wow,” he says. “You gotta throw a flirt in there.”
“I’m not flirting. You asked what I see, and I told you.”
“Mhm.” He looks toward the door, taking a step back so that he can rest against the railing. “You know what actually happened? When I was arrested?”
I shrug, crossing my arms in the cold air. “I know it was something to do with drugs. Your parents didn’t want to talk about it.”
“I was seeing this woman,” he says. “Older than me. Hell, older than you. But she had a place, money, always had whatever I needed.” He stops with a laugh aimed toward himself.
“That should’ve been the first red flag, but I wasn’t thinking about red flags.
I was thinking about where I was gonna sleep and where my next high was coming from.
I’d been homeless. Shitty motels if I could afford it, but if I got my hands on a little bit of money, a bed wasn’t my priority. ”
I don’t say anything. I knew these things in the back of my mind. I understand what his life was like. I remember the shape he was in the last few times I saw him. But to hear it put like that—
“She took me in right away.” He kicks at a rock in front of his shoe. “I was comfortable for the first time in years. She always had drugs around, and I thought that was great at the time.” Another laugh. “Real sharp guy, me.”
“Will—”
“I ain’t looking for sympathy,” he says, with a glare, cutting off whatever I was about to say.
“She started having me do things. Drop this off, pick this up. Take this to this address.” He shrugs.
“And I did it. Every time. Small price to pay, right? For the first time in years, I didn’t feel like shit all the time. ”
A car pulls out of the driveway, the headlights flashing over us in the dark, illuminating his face.
“I was an idiot. I know that. I’m not gonna stand here and lie and say I didn’t know something was wrong. I knew. I just didn’t care.” He pauses. “And when the house got raided, I was there, and as much a part of it as she was and—”
He scrubs a hand down his face, a self-deprecating sound bubbling out of him that I don’t like before he meets my eyes again. “So, what do you say, Doc? You still like me now?”
I release a breath through my nose that I’ve been holding for who knows how long. “Unfortunately,” I say. “Yes. You have done many, many things that should have cured me of my feelings. And yet.”
His smirk falters, his face doing something strange before he covers it with a laugh. “You’re fucked in the head, you know that?”
“I’m aware.”
He takes a step forward, his eyes drifting to my lips as his hand reaches out to grab my sweater again, but this time, he doesn’t let go. He pulls the fabric until I’m close enough that if I tilt my head back, our lips will touch.
He releases a breath, closing the distance between us, sliding a hand around my back, pulling my body into him. My hands land on his neck as his tongue slips between my lips and—
I think about Frank, standing in the middle of the room, defending his son, and that feels more important than kissing him right now, even though I’ve been craving this for weeks.
“Your dad kicked him out,” I say, pulling back, breathing hard, keeping him at a distance until he squints at me in confusion, his lips already a swollen pink from our kiss.
“Travis. Frank told him to leave.”
Will’s hands leave my body, and I fight the urge to beg him to come back when he turns around to face the parking lot, wrapping his hands around the railing.
“Huh.”