Chapter Twenty-Six
Why is being with William Landry such an astronomical feat? It was eleven years ago, and it still is now.
If at first you don’t succeed . . .
How many times are we supposed to try, try again? After all, he’s moving to Somers. And it’s breaking my heart again, but I can’t tell him that because his dad is dying. So I do what I do best: I pretend he is my patient, and I wear my doctor’s hat.
Pragmatic.
Detached.
Will arrives home early Sunday morning as I finish cleaning out the fridge. It’s too late. He already knows I don’t keep a tidy house all the time, but I want him to feel good about leaving me here. I want him to trust me.
“Good morning,” I say, returning the last of the food to the top shelf.
He toes off his black boots. “Morning.” The weariness in his voice matches his expression.
I know his firehouse has been busy helping with nearby wildfires, so I wonder how much sleep he’s had since Thursday night. Doesn’t look like much.
“What can I help you do? Pack? Laundry?”
Will untucks his blue T-shirt and then runs his hands through his hair. “Sleep,” he says through an enormous yawn.
“You need something to help you sleep?”
After his yawn, he drops his hands limp at his sides, and he stares at my feet, working his gaze up to my face.
It’s almost tangible, eliciting goose bumps along my arms. The release of oxytocin makes my smooth muscles contract, hardening my nipples.
Does he know what he’s doing to me? Does his brain, like mine, take mental notes of his physiological response to seeing me?
“I need”—he slowly shakes his head—“something.”
I rub my lips together and swallow. “A shower?”
After a moment, he shakes his head again.
I crack my knuckles, then reach for my pockets, a place to hide my fidgety hands. But my Lululemon Hotty Hot high-rise shorts have zipper pockets, and there’s no way to casually unzip them with one hand.
What do I say? The silence is liquefying me. Before long, I’ll be nothing more than a puddle on the floor that he’ll step over on his way to bed.
“Do you want to go to the bathroom with me?” I cringe as soon as the words pass my lips. That sounds awful, and the tightness of Will’s brow confirms it.
I’m not a genius with Will. I’m just a blubbering, lust-crazed girl with a crush on someone who feels out of my league.
“I know you’re not a stranger, but I’d lose my panties for you.”
A slow grin steals across his face, and my cheeks burn with a heavy mix of desire and embarrassment. I couldn’t channel Dr. Reichart if my life depended on it.
“Is that so?” He takes a step closer to me.
I hold my breath and nod, unblinking gaze locked with his.
“Are you even wearing panties?”
Of course I’m wearing panties. Who wears jogging shorts without them?
Before those thoughts form into spoken words, he leans forward and brushes his lips along my neck while his fingers tease my inner thigh for a second.
In the next breath, two of his fingers trace the leg of my cotton underwear as if he needs confirmation.
He teases my earlobe with his teeth, and his two fingers hook into my panties’ crotch, pulling them aside.
Am I wet? Embarrassingly so.
A harsh breath catches in my throat when he drives those fingers up inside of me. My nails curl into his biceps as I steady myself when my knees try to buckle.
“My tongue is jealous of my fingers, Dr. Reichart,” he whispers in my ear. “What should we do about that?”
Click.
The back door opens, and I jump away so quickly, I nearly lose my balance while fixing my underwear and then crossing my arms over my chest to hide my nipple/no bra/tight shirt situation.
“You’re moving?” Maren asks, barging into the kitchen, shaking her head like it’s not possible. She drops her purse to the floor and straightens her gray Grizzlies T-shirt over her white leggings.
Thankfully, she’s focused on Will instead of me. What just happened is obvious on my face, like a flashing red light.
Will lifts his wet fingers to his mouth, and my eyes widen as he wipes them over his lips before licking said lips.
Oh my god . . .
“My dad has stage four cancer. He’s not treating it. So, yeah, Mare, I’m moving to Somers to be with him and my mom.”
Tears fill her eyes as she covers her mouth. I can’t stop gawking at Will’s lips. Again he curls them over his teeth, tongue making another swipe across them.
“Jamie said you’re leaving tomorrow?”
He nods. “I tried calling you.”
“I was working.” She sniffles and wipes her tears before they slide down her face.
“I figured. And I wasn’t going to leave without saying goodbye. It’s a two-hour drive. I’ll be back to visit.”
Maren throws her arms around his neck, and Will hugs her tightly. I feel like I’m intruding on something personal, even though he had his fingers inside me just minutes ago.
“Are you selling the house?” Maren releases him, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.
“No. I’ll rent it out. It’s paid for. Why not get the passive income? Plus, I have a good amount in savings. No need to liquidate.”
Maren glances past Will to me. “You should rent the whole house.”
I shake my head. “I’m buying an Airstream and living on my land while my barndominium is being built.”
“That’s so Grey’s Anatomy of you,” she says.
I wrinkle my nose.
“You’ve never watched Grey’s Anatomy?” Maren’s eyes bug out.
“Nope. I have trouble with medical dramas. I spend too much time critiquing them.” When I shift my attention to Will, he studies me with an unreadable expression.
My gaze drops to his hand. He should probably wash it. When I return my focus to his face, he smirks as if he’s reading my mind, and he makes a point to lick his lips again.
I swallow.
“I guess I can understand that,” Maren says. “I wouldn’t watch a wildfire drama.”
“Well, I’m fucking exhausted. So, let’s not make this too emotional. I’ll be back to visit before too long because I’ll have to do some stuff around here to get it ready to rent.” Will gives Maren one more hug and kisses the top of her head. “Tell Ozzy goodbye and give Sweet Pea a big hug from me.”
“I will,” Maren says. “Give my best to your parents. And if you need anything, please let me know. You don’t have to go through this alone.
” She releases him. “If you need help with your dad or just someone to keep you company or help your mom, I’m your person. I can take some personal time off too.”
Will shakes his head. “That won’t be necessary. But thanks.”
“I’m available too,” I say.
They look at me as if I’m speaking a foreign language.
“Probably not the best idea,” Maren says. “Given your pasts.”
I look to Will for . . . something. I’m not sure what. Support? A confession?
He keeps his gaze pointed to the floor as if the grout lines are giving him a hidden message. His silence speaks volumes.
“You’re probably right.” I give Maren a tight smile, and if Will would have the balls to look at me, I’d give him a special expression too. “I have errands to run. Good to see you, Maren.”
“You too, Everleigh.” I can’t tell if Maren’s smile is genuine or not. I think so, but Will has me a little off-kilter after our encounter.
“Sweet dreams, William,” I say in a voice so sweet I nearly choke on the words.
He gives me a quick glance and a slight nod as if what happened before Maren arrived is nothing more than an afterthought.
No more smirking.
No more lip-licking.
Men are machines with buttons to turn on and off their emotions and desires. Women are waves. Our feelings build over time and crash onto the shore, catching everyone around us off guard and pulling them into our depths until they’re drowning.
I look into a three-year-old Airstream in Hamilton and write the owner a check to hold it for me. Then I grab groceries on the way home. After I put everything away and game for two hours, Will comes down the stairs in jeans, messy hair, no shirt.
My avatar dies.
I quickly shut off the TV and stand. “Can I help you pack?”
He stops a few feet from the sofa and studies me before shaking his head.
“I bought an Airstream from a couple in Hamilton, and I’m already looking into trading in my car for a truck. So I can be out of here soon.” I shrug. “In case you rent this place to someone or a couple who don’t want any roommates.”
Will narrows his eyes for a second before returning a slow nod.
I try not to stare at his bare chest, but it’s not easy.
We should be able to pick up where we left off, but it never seems to work that way. Every time we have an “almost” moment, something erases it, and I feel like we’re always starting over.
Should I ask him what I tasted like on his lips?
“No rush,” he says, running a hand through his hair while continuing to the kitchen.
“I was serious when I said I could come to Somers for a day or longer if you need someone to . . .”
“To what?” he asks, standing in front of the open fridge for a few seconds before retrieving a package of turkey and a bottle of mayo.
“If you need a friend to talk to, I’m an excellent listener. Some people wait months for the chance to tell me their secrets and problems.”
“I can’t afford you.” He sets two slices of bread onto a plate.
“We could barter.”
“You’ve mentioned bartering before. I’m not sure what you’ll get from me, if you’re giving me free therapy.”
“Well, you said you’d be back here to visit.
And they’re pouring the concrete for my barndominium next week, so before you know it, it will be constructed and ready for me to work on the inside.
I could use help. And if you rent out your house and need a place to stay for a few days, you can stay with me. ”
He looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “In your Airstream?”
I press my lips together and nod, hands folded behind my back.
“You realize that I have lots of friends in Missoula who will let me stay in a spare bedroom.”
“You realize you had your fingers inside of me this morning.”
I have never seen Will blush—until now.
“The universe has decided we are a one-and-done,” I say.
Will checks his watch. “I have a few minutes now.”
“No way.” I laugh. “Your dad will call. Someone will barge into the house. It will start on fire. Something will happen. And my . . .” I think the word heart, but he doesn’t need to hear that a day before moving to Somers. “My body can’t handle any more teasing.”
“I understand,” he says with a sad smile, glancing at the floor for a few seconds before looking at me again. “Let me take you to dinner.”
It’s like he’s trying to sweep me off my feet without a broom. We are a self-contained fire destined to burn out. “You need to pack some things,” I say.
“We’ll do it when we get back.”
We?
“Fine. But it’s my treat.”
He barks a laugh. “I won’t argue with you, Dr. Reichart.”