Page 9 of The Love We Deny
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.
Chapter 3
I’m aware that this is a terrible idea, standing outside room two with an old phone, my excuse for being here.
But the truth is, Joyce asked me to look out for him, and I’ve been doing a shit job at it. He’s been cooped up in that room for a week without a phone or a car to go anywhere, and I’ve been too busy with work and the kids to make it back.
And even I, who knows little to nothing about being an addict, can guess that’s probably not helpful for staying on track.
So that’s why I’m here, with my terrible idea.
The door swings open barely a second after I knock, revealing my shirtless brother-in-law who must have taken the time to build up his body in prison because—
He looks good. Healthy. And as a doctor, I notice these things.
