Chapter Ten
“Good morning.” Liz greets me when I return home after a forty-eight-hour shift. Much like my mom, she’s in workout attire and has her hair pulled back, with a fancy to-go coffee in one hand as she scrolls her phone.
“Morning,” I say, removing my leather boots.
“Coffee?” she asks, dropping her phone into her purse on the kitchen table. “I got a latte from the shop down the street, but I can make you a pot or run and get you something.”
“Nope.” I head toward the stairs. “Sleep.”
“Sweet dreams.”
I mumble a “Thanks” and drag my tired ass up the stairs. My welcome-back shift was nonstop chaos with no sleep.
When I turn the corner at the top of the stairs, I bump into Everleigh.
“Oh, sorry,” she says. “Long shift?”
I yawn and nod, but not without eyeing her white blouse unbuttoned to reveal just a tease of cleavage. Her floral scent hijacks my next breath.
“Your hair is darker,” I say.
She runs her fingers through the long, straight strands. “Yes. I’m going back to my natural color. I haven’t done anything to it. The fading and outgrowth are more noticeable when it’s straight.”
“That wasn’t your natural color?”
“No.” She laughs. “I added red to it. I have for years, just like my mom.”
“I like . . .” I clear my throat. “I’m going to bed.”
She smirks. “Were you going to say you like it?”
“Nope. I’m going to bed. That’s all I was going to say.” I brush past her toward my room.
When I let myself think of her as a grown woman instead of the underage girl I did all kinds of things to over the course of a week, I begin to like things about her such as her natural hair color. And that’s a terrible idea.
After five hours of sleep, I shower and head to the kitchen for food. When I get there, it’s a damn mess.
“Sorry, I’ll get everything cleaned up,” Liz says, jumping off the sofa and setting her book on the coffee table. “I make my own protein bars. Here, try one.” She offers me a square.
“I’m good, but thanks.” I wipe the trail of rolled oats off the counter and into the sink.
“You know what they say about artists.”
“What’s that?” I set a skillet on the stove while she flutters around me, cleaning up her mess.
“Creatives are messy.”
“I bet your daughter would disagree and dismiss that as a stereotype with no definitive data to support it.”
Liz laughs, scrubbing her dishes in the sink. “For someone who has spent very little time with Everleigh, you seem to know her well.”
“I know virtually nothing about her. We didn’t exactly start off with the truth.”
“She just wanted to fit in with her peers. Who can blame her for that?”
“Me. The guy who could have gone to jail. I can blame her for that.” I drop some butter into the hot skillet and then crack two eggs.
Liz sighs, rinsing her dishes and setting them in the strainer.
“For her eighteenth birthday, I took her to a spa. Then we got her ears pierced. Lunch at a tearoom. Matching tattoos. And we ended the night with drinks and a show. And you know what? She sulked the whole time. Finally, I grabbed her shoulders and shook her, demanding she tell me what was ruining her big day, and that’s when she broke down and told me about you. ”
I break the egg yolks with the spatula. “And what did she say?”
“I won’t betray her trust by telling you.”
I nod. Whatever.
“She said you were her soulmate.”
So much for not betraying her daughter.
Liz pulls a clean towel from the drawer and dries her dishes.
“She said that week with you was the best week of her life. And when you two made love, she knew it was something that would last forever. Then you eviscerated her heart the next morning.” Liz sighs.
“I don’t think she’ll ever be the same.”
I was so close. Maren and Fitz were ready to get Everleigh out of my life, like a magician with a sleight of hand. But no. I let her big tears send me back eleven years, reminiscing about that week. I let her make me feel guilty for breaking her heart.
Dammit! I’m being manipulated again.
“I think she’s doing just fine,” I say. “She has a solid reputation. A good staff. Family and friends who care about her. A bright future. Maybe not being the same is a good thing. Move on. Evolve. Grow. Spread your wings. Don’t you think?” I sneak a sideways glance at her.
Liz frowns. “Will, I’m talking about her heart. It will never be the same. You never forget your first love. It’s the most impressive one.”
I try to remember my first love. Nope. I’ve got nothing. Perhaps it’s a female thing. Or maybe I’ve never been in love.
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” I say, retrieving a plate before pulling two slices of bread from the bag and sliding the eggs onto one piece.
Liz watches me as I add mayo and hot sauce. Her nose wrinkles when I take a bite. “You mean like that sandwich?” she asks.
“I noticed Everleigh is growing out her natural hair color,” I say, eyeing Liz’s amber hair. Honestly, I had no idea it wasn’t natural.
She tucks a few strands behind her ear. “My daughter has my eyes. That’s it. Everything else she got from her father. When she started college, I took her to get her hair colored like mine.”
“But that’s not your natural color.”
She frowns. “Watch it, young man.”
I smirk after taking another bite of my sandwich.
“I’m a mousey brunette. This color suits me better.
It’s what I looked like when I met Everleigh’s father.
” Her pleasant smile slips for a second.
Then she swallows hard and finds a new smile that’s less believable before clearing her throat.
“It’s become part of my identity, so when I took my daughter to get hers colored to match, I felt like she was really mine. ”
That’s ridiculous, but whatever.
“Her darker hair is nice,” I say.
“Yes. She’s a beautiful young woman. She has a real Ritu Arya look to her when her hair is black. My daughter is stunning. It’s a shame you can’t see that.”
I can see just fine. “Who’s Ritu Arya?”
“Umbrella Academy?” Her eyes widen, waiting for me to light up with recognition. I’ve got nothing.
“So how long are you here for?” I ask.
“Two more days. I’m going house hunting with Everleigh tomorrow.”
Excellent.
“If you need a list of homes for sale, just let me know. I have a friend who’s a Realtor,” I say because I’m a helpful guy who just wants what’s best for everyone.
“Will, has anyone ever painted you?”
“Painted me?” I mumble over a bite of sandwich.
“Yes. Or drawn you? I bet you’d look stunning as a graphite pencil sketch. How would you feel about my painting you this afternoon? I bet there’s an art supply store in this town. I could pick up a few things and be back in less than an hour.”
“Oh, no. Really.” I brush my hand down the front of my T-shirt. “I have nothing nice to wear. All of my clothes are old and wrinkled.”
“You’re cute, Will.” She bats her eyelashes at me. “I’m sure Everleigh told you I paint nudes. Who cares what your clothes look like?” She grabs her black leather tote off the table and hikes it onto her shoulder. “Be back soon.”
“Sir, can I help you?” The blond behind the desk jumps out of her chair as I blow past her.
“Everleigh?” I call, looking right and left into rooms as my boots stomp on the floor down the clinic’s hallway. “Dr. Reichart? Where are you?”
“Sir!” The blond catches up with me and grabs my arm. “You need to stop, or I’ll have to call security.”
“Where is she?”
“Dr. Reichart is unavailable. You need to make an appointment.” She tightens her grip on my arm while blowing her bangs away from her black-framed glasses.
I turn toward her, pulling out of her hold and narrowing my eyes. “Find her and tell her that her landlord is here.”
“Will?”
I pivot toward Everleigh’s voice. She has a VR headset resting on her forehead, nose wrinkled as she squints at me.
“Are you seriously playing games at work?”
She frowns, glancing behind her. I follow her gaze to a little boy, who has a VR headset on his head as well.
“Austin, I’ll be right back. Okay?” she says.
The little boy with messy red hair and freckles nods.
She gently closes the door behind her, then grabs my wrist and pulls me down the hallway, opening the door with her name on it. “Is this an emergency?”
I step inside her office. It’s nothing but bare white walls, save for a slew of framed licenses and accolades. The only things on her sleek glass desk are a computer and a candy dispenser. Why can’t she be this clean at my house?
“Will, I have a patient. If this isn’t an emergency, then take a seat and wait for me. I will be finished in thirty minutes.”
I press the button on her M&M dispenser, and several drop onto her desk. “Okay,” I murmur as she exits her office, closing the door behind her. It’s weird being in here.
It’s weird observing her in a white lab coat.
It’s weird seeing her name on the door. Dr. Reichart. She’s a fucking medical doctor. How is that possible?
After surveying everything in her office, or lack thereof, I sit in her comfy leather chair and prop my boots atop her desk to doomscroll on my phone. Before I know it, thirty minutes fly by, and she’s back, standing in the doorway, eyeing my boots.
I drop them to the floor and sit up. It shouldn’t matter. She and her mom don’t think twice about making a mess of my place.
“I have twenty minutes. What’s going on?” she asks, sliding her hands into her coat pockets.
“Chief Killmer said he’s been seeing you for three years,” I say for whatever reason. Probably because witnessing her in her element has caught me off guard, and for a second I forget why I’m here, so I say the first thing that pops into my head. “I thought kids were your specialty.”
“Kids make up 80 percent of my practice. Not all of it. And I can’t discuss my patients with you. So I can neither confirm nor deny anything. If that’s why you’re here, I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time.”
I shake my head. “No. Uh, that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because, as we speak, your mom is shopping for art supplies to paint a picture of me.”
Everleigh is in Dr. Reichart mode. She doesn’t so much as flinch. Not a twitch of her lips or a slight raise of an eyebrow. “Oh, sorry about that. You can say no. Did you try that?”
“Not exactly. I told her I don’t have anything nice to wear.”
“It’s a nude painting.”
I give her a dead stare. “I’m aware now.”
“But you didn’t tell her no?”
“I didn’t know what to say. She gave me this look. It was as if she was daring me to say no. I felt like my manhood was being challenged.”
“Will, you don’t have to take off your clothes to prove you’re a man.” She scrapes her teeth along her bottom lip for a second. “I realize you’ve taken off your clothes for charity calendars.”
I frown while standing. “That’s not accurate because in those calendars I’m wearing my gear, minus my shirt. I’m far from naked. Besides”—I run a frustrated hand through my hair—“what is she going to do with it? Gift it to me like I really want to stare at a naked painting of myself?”
“She’ll probably give it to me for my birthday.”
My face sours.
She waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry. I don’t want it either. I mean, I’d be fine with it if your legs were crossed or folded off to one side. Maybe a hand tastefully placed in front of you like a fig leaf. I think penises and scrota are ugly. Don’t you?”
“Is that a trick question?”
She grins, lifting one leg to sit on the edge of her desk.
I study her for a few seconds, seeing everything I should have seen when we met. “When you weren’t wearing makeup, I thought you looked young, like a teenager, not a girl in her mid-twenties. I should have followed that instinct.”
She deflates. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Because you feel guilty? Because you know it’s true?”
She rolls her eyes. “I told you I can’t be your doctor. Stop trying to get free therapy.”
A slow grin steals across my face. “I’m going to send you a bill for putting out your fire.”
“I pay taxes, so I’ve already paid for it.”
“What’s up with gaming during work?” I nod toward her head even though she’s no longer wearing the VR headset.
“I use virtual reality exposure therapy, especially with children. I’ve designed and patented several programs, including one that can be personalized for a patient’s unique needs.
For some, it’s easier to deal with reality when it’s not actually real.
It’s a transformative tool for anxiety disorders, involving gradual exposure in immersive environments.
VR is a great place to practice coping skills.
” Everleigh’s whole body straightens as she talks.
Confidence gives her petite posture an extra inch or two.
“Your work might be cooler than mine. But maybe not. We have robots we can send into fires. Do you have robots?” I ask.
“Not yet.” She folds her hands in front of her. “But I’m working on it.”
It’s hard not to let my gaze linger on her because every day feels like I’m seeing her in a different light.
“Well”—I glance around the room as if I haven’t inspected its minimalistic decor a dozen times in half an hour—“I’d better let you get back to work.
I’ll tell your mom I haven’t properly manscaped in a while, so I’ll have to pass on the painting offer. ”
“Just tell her no. It’s that simple.”
“Yeah, but she’s probably purchased supplies.”
“Oh, William. You really need to find your voice.” She slides her phone out of her coat pocket, then her thumbs speed across the screen. “There. I just told her you don’t want to be painted. And she won’t waste any supplies because I’ll let her paint me after work.”
Well, shit.
A nude painting of Everleigh. Do I like that idea?
Before my dick thinks too hard about it, I open the door. “Thanks. I appreciate it. And for the record, my voice works just fine.”
Everleigh doesn’t respond, so I glance over my shoulder. She’s staring at my ass. When she lifts her gaze, she smirks.