by B. B. Hamel
I quickly walk away from her, because I don’t want her to see the look on my face. It’s half desire, half longing, and she doesn’t need to know how I feel. I’m afraid it’ll just push her away when I’m finally getting her back, bit by tiny bit.
There are still a million problems bugging me, like why she wanted to push me away to begin with, but I can ignore that for now. I’m just happy she’s opening up and letting me listen.
Besides, so looked so fucking sexy soaking wet like that, I don’t think I could’ve been around her for another second without trying to touch her body. Maybe we’re just friends, but maybe there’s still that spark hanging between us. Maybe it’ll always be there, just waiting to reignite.
9
Addie
“You need to get a job.”
I look up, surprised, as Eleanor hovers over me at breakfast the next day. That night, after getting home from visiting that waterfall cave with Will, I fully expected to dream about the basement again.
Instead, I didn’t dream about anything at all. I slept soundly and deeply and didn’t wake up in a cold sweat like I have been.
I’m trying not to look too deeply into that. I still have some lingering resentments and anger toward Will, and he still doesn’t know that he’s Cara’s dad, but I can’t deny the way he makes me feel.
It’s safety, pure and simple.
“A job?” I ask her, blinking a little.
“What, you thought you could just hang around here forever?” She scoffs and heads over to the counter. She pours herself some coffee and crosses her arms. “Sorry, Addie, but it’s time.”
I lean back in my chair and watch her for a second. “Okay,” I say finally. “I guess I can get a job.”
“I know it’ll be hard. But luckily, you have me.” She walks over and sits down across from me, smiling big. I’m terrified of what she’s about to say. “I already set up a job interview.”
I groan and shake my head. “Come on, no way.”
“It’s a good job,” she counters, a little defensively.
“I’m sure it is, but I don’t want my aunt finding a job for me.”
She just shrugs a little, a smile on her lips. I call her my aunt because it’s simpler than explaining our actual familial relationship.
“Too late,” she says.
“What did you do?”
“I just made a call. Your interview is later today.”
“Eleanor!” I glare at her. “This isn’t funny.”
“Honey,” she says softly. “Cara is fine with Julissa. It’s time.”
I stare at her for a second, and I want to feel angry, but it’s hard. I know Eleanor’s doing this for my own good. I know she sees me sitting around the house, not doing anything, not going anywhere, and she knows as well as I do that I need something more.
I love my daughter. Of course I love her with everything I have. But Eleanor’s right, if I’m going to be a single mom, I need to be able to provide. I can’t bank on staying with Eleanor forever. I need to be able to go out on my own, have my own life outside of this house. This has been a long time coming, but she’s right, as much as I hate it.
“What’s the job?” I ask her finally.
She perks up. “A dear friend of mine, Teddy Cahill, owns a paper company.”
“Like in The Office?”
“Is that the show with the weird beets guy?” she asks, meaning Dwight.
“Yes,” I say. “The weird beets guy is in that show.”
“Then just like The Office, except this is a real place and there aren’t any crzy people there.” She hesitates a second, frowning. “That I know of.”
I can’t help but grin. “Okay, fine. What do I need to know?”
She smiles, clearly delighted. “I’ll prep you. Teddy’s a dear friend, so I suspect you already have the job. Just show up, be your normal, wonderful self, and you’ll get it.”
“Can I ask what I’ll be doing, exactly?”
“Office administration,” she says, shrugging. “Whatever that is.”
I sigh. Eleanor doesn’t know what that means. I’ll be a glorified secretary, but I guess it’s better than nothing. My English degree isn’t exactly bringing in millions of dollars every year, and the longer I wait to get into the workforce, the harder it’ll be.
“Thanks El,” I say to her. “I guess I appreciate this.”
“I’m sure you do.” She winks and leans forward. “Now, let me tell you all about Teddy and his company.”
Two weeks later, I’m sitting behind a desk at the Cahill Paper Company, staring at a computer that’s probably older than I am, and wondering what the heck I’m doing here.
Leaving Cara was harder than I thought it would be. I was looking forward to this right up until I had to actually leave her. I don’t think she understood that I would be gone all day, although Julissa and I tried to make her understand. She just smiled and hugged me and it broke my heart into a million pieces.
“How’s your first day going?” Teddy Cahill pokes it head out of his office and smiles at me. He’s a nice man, about Eleanor’s age, but he’s not quite as sharp as she is. I suspect he would’ve retired by now if it weren’t for the fact that he owns this company and doesn’t really need to do any actual work.
“Great so far, Mr. Cahill,” I say.
“Please, call me Teddy.” He grins his affable old-guy grin. “Let me know if you need anything at all. Any niece of Eleanor is a niece of my own.”
“Sure, thanks, Teddy.” He slips back into his office and I turn back to my computer.
My job consists of keeping track of client data and shipping. I’m basically taking all the paper sales invoices and inputting them into their ancient database system, which is a huge pain in the ass. I don’t know why they don’t just upload this stuff automatically, but I guess that’s just how they operate. It’s a small business, so I guess the small business touch is important.
I kill a few hours until I hear my phone vibrating insistently in my desk drawer. I pull it out and hesitate before answering.
“Hi Will,” I say.
“How’s your first day going?” he asks me.
“So far so good.” I hesitate a second. “Since when did you call instead of texting?”
He laughs at that. “Since I decided to surprise you with lunch.”
“Huh?” I look around, eye wide.
“I’m out in the parking lot. Can you come meet me? I got a solid spread out here.”
I can’t help but smile. “Okay, yeah. I was just thinking of taking my break.”
“Good. You can’t miss me.” He hangs up the phone.
I’m smiling as I get up. Teddy waves at me as I leave my desk and I wave back. I suspect I could just go home right now and nobody would notice.
I head downstairs and out into the parking lot. Cahill Paper Company is located in a little office park in the middle of nowhere, along with a bunch of lawyers and accountants. The lot is pretty full, but Will wasn’t kidding. I spot him right away.
He’s sitting in the bed of a truck, grinning at me as I approach.
“What’s this?” I ask him, head cocked to one side.
“Lunch.” He holds up a bottle of champagne. “Thought you might be hungry.”
I laugh and shake my head, ignoring his idea of a liquid diet. “Since when did you have a truck?”
“Bought it yesterday. What do you think?”
I cross my arms, smiling a little bit. “Can you… afford it?”
“Believe it or not, the KHL pays really well and there wasn’t a whole lot I wanted in Russia.”
“In that case, I love it.”
He laughs and pats the side. “Come on up.”
I walk around the back and he helps me get into the bed. There’s a blanket spread out with a little basket, two glasses, and the opened bottle. He pours me a drink, which I sip while he brings out lunch.
“Subs from Billy’s, just the way you like it.” He han
ds me over the long, white wrapped sandwich.
“No way,” I say, laughing again. “The sardines?”
“The sardines.” He makes a face. “I saw some unappealing food in Russia, but I still think sardines are the worst.”
“You’re missing out.” I open my sandwich and take a big bite. “Amazing.’
He makes another face and holds up his glass. “To your new job.”
We clink, drink, and eat. I haven’t had one of these sandwiches since high school and I’m genuinely surprised that he even remembers how I like mine. I guess I shouldn’t be shocked, since we used to go to Billy’s like every other day and I’d always get the same thing. Still, that was years ago.
It’s pretty great though. This little taste of home is just what I nee3ded to lift my spirits today, not to mention Will’s looking particularly handsome in a tight gray t-shirt and jeans. He leans up against the bed casually and watches me for a second, a little smirk on his face.
“What?” I ask him.
“You look hot in your work outfit.”
I blush and I’m about to yell at him, but I don’t want to be a hypocrite, considering I was just thinking the same thing about him. “Save it,” I say instead.
He shrugs. “Just stating the obvious, is all.” He sips his drink again. “How’s it going, anyway?”
“Not bad,” I admit. “The owner is super nice. It was tough coming in, though.”
“Why?”
“Oh, you know. The usual reasons.” I smile and try to pretend like it’s no big deal.
I swear he can see right through me. “You can tell me if you want,” he says.
I hesitate, biting my lip. “Leaving my daughter for the first time was hard.”
“Ah.” He nods slowly, as if he could possibly understand. At least he’s trying. “I can see how that’d be tough.”
“She’s not used to it, you know? She doesn’t understand.”
“Of course not, but she will. I guess she’s at home with Eleanor?”
“And the nanny, Julissa.”
“So she’s in good, familiar hands. That’s important, right?”
“Definitely. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”
“You’re a good mom,” he says softly. “You clearly care.”
“She’s my daughter. Of course I care.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You know that’s not always the case.”
I look away from him. A flash of the basement, dripping water. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Parents fucking suck.” He sighs and stretches his knee. “You’re okay, though.”
“Thanks,” I say, smiling at him. He winces a bit as he fully extends his leg and I stare at his hand rubbing his thigh. “You should get that looked at.”
He waves me away. “I did, back in Russia.”
“Het it looked at here.”
“Won’t tell me anything different.”
“You could be doing physical therapy, right?”
He hesitates. “They did mention that,” he admits finally.
“So why not go see someone and get on that?”
He doesn’t say anything right away. I take the opportunity to bite into my sandwich. I can tell he’s thinking about what I just said and trying to decide how he wants to respond. Typical Will, always considering everything and thinking before he speaks. That’s one trait of his that I really, really admire.
“If I do physical therapy,” he says finally, “I’m afraid that it won’t work.”
“I see,” I say.
“I want to play again.” He looks down at the bed. “Is that stupid?”
“Not at all,” I say. “But can you?”
“I honestly don’t think so.” He meets my gaze and I can see the pain there. “It fucking sucks, but it’s probably true. I’m afraid if I do therapy, I’ll prove without a doubt that it’s never happening again.”
“Or you’ll prove that it is.” I shrug a little bit. “Either way it’s worth a shot. Better than limping around all the time, right?”
“Maybe. I do get a lot of pity from the hot ladies around town.’
“Hot ladies around town?” I roll my eyes. “Gross.”
“Hey, don’t be so jealous. There are a lot of older, sophisticated Westonites.”
“Oh, Will, gross.”
He laughs as I swat at him. “All the old ladies want a slice of this.”
“I definitely don’t,” I grumble at him.
“You big liar.” He smirks at me, shifting closer, and I realize how near he is to me. The bed of his truck is a decent size, but it’s not that big. We’re packed in here tight.
“What, you think I’ve been pining for you all this time?”
“Yes,” he says. “You probably watch my games online and think about tearing off my uniform.”
“Hardly,” I say, although that was true back when he was in college.
“I’m the most eligible bachelor in Weston now, I bet. And here you are, having lunch with me.”
“I’m so lucky,” I say, dripping with sarcasm.
“Be that way all you want, but I know the truth.”
“What’s that?” I ask him.
His eyes meet mine again. “You’ve been dreaming about the night I fucked you ever snce it happened.”
I gape at him, shocked that he’d say that. I don’t even know what to say as he laughs at me, eating his sandwich, but it shakes me to my core.
He’s right. I have been dreaming about it. But it’s also the reason I stopped talking to him, and to hear it brought up so casually… it almost hurts. Except here he is, back in my life, and so close to me. My heart beats fast thinking about his touch, but I also want to run the hell away as fast as I can, and I don’t know which one I want more.
“I should get back,” I say after a little more small talk. “That place can’t last long without me.”
“I bet.” He grins and I help him clean up. When we’re done, he helps me down off the truck bed, and I watch as he hops off, wincing as he lands.
“Thanks for all this,” I say. “It was really good.”
“Anytime. I’m glad we’re talking again.”
“Yeah, me too.” I smile at him, still confused.
He hesitates a second. “Come here,” he says, and he pulls me against him in a big, tight hug.
I hesitate before hugging him back. It feels so good to be in his arms again after so long. I used to live for these hugs, his big arms wrapped around me tight, his smell lingering on me for the rest of the day.
And it still feels that way. It feels so good just having him touch me.
We break apart. “Later,” he says, getting into the truck.
“Bye.” I walk off, back to work.
For the rest of the day, I keep smelling him on my clothes, and I don’t think I ever want that smell to go away.
10
Will
I hate it when Addie’s right, but it happens a lot.
I go see a local doctor the next day, and two days after that, I go to my first physical therapy appointment. It’s with this older guy named Mikel. I think he’s Norwegian or something, because he speaks with a thick accent. He teaches me a bunch of exercises, and although it’s hard, I promise myself that I’ll give it a shot.
“This is not cure, okay?” Mikel says to me as I leave. “We strengthen, we build. But you maybe never fully fixed, okay?”
“Okay Mikel,” I say.
“And don’t forget your home work!” He flashes me a big grin and heads back inside.
I never want to go home. My dad’s back, and he hangs around the house for hours at a time, mostly sitting in his study drinking whisky and smoking cigars. He’s on the phone at all hours, and I have no clue who he’s talking to. I don’t ask and he doesn’t ever mention it, which is fine by me. The man lives on takeout Chinese food and pizza, which is absolutely insane, considering his age. He’s starting to look like that’s his diet, unfortunately, but I don’t
care. Let the bastard eat himself into his grave.
The next day, I’m up in my room, doing my stretches and exercises when I hear a crash downstairs. I hesitate and check the clock. It’s a little after ten in the morning, and I know my dad’s been up all night, or at least most of it. When I was a kid and he’d stay up way too late, I always knew that I’d better get out of the house. Otherwise, he’d beat the shit out of me.
The beatings stopped when I turned sixteen. I hit my growth spurt, put on some size and weight, and when he punched me in the eye one random Tuesday after school, I punched him right back. It knocked him to the ground, and I was so angry that I wanted to kill him. He hadn’t hit me for a little while, and I almost forgot what he got like.
He looked up at me, his eyes wide with anger and fear, and I left him there. The beatings stopped after that, I think because he realized that I wasn’t an easy target anymore.
The abuse never stopped, though.
I flinch as I hear him come stumbling up the steps. I can hear him walking down the hallway toward my door and I’m praying for him to walk on past, but he doesn’t. He bangs on my bedroom door and grunts something, his words slurred.
“Yeah, what?” I answer.
“Open up.”
I pull the door open a crack. He smiles at me, clearly drunk off his ass. “You’re sweating. Why are you sweating?”
“I’m doing exercised.”
“Exercises?” He grunts at me. “Open the door up, I wanna talk to you.”
I open the door slightly wider. “What?” I ask him, trying to control my anger. I’m much bigger and much stronger than I was when I was sixteen, and if I didn’t need a place to stay right now, I think I’d level him just because I felt like it.
“Why are you doing exercises?” he asks, slurring. He leans against the doorjamb and doesn’t come into the room.
“Physical therapy,” I say. “For my knee.”
He stares at me blankly before barking a laugh. “Therapy? You? You’re done,” he says, shaking his head.
“Excuse me?”
“Done,” he repeats. “Done, fucking done. I saw, y’know. Saw it happen.”
