Will
The doctors allow Owen and Sheryl to leave toward noon. Will’s back hurts from sleeping in the armchair, or at least attempting to. He needs a shower and a much better coffee than the one they serve at the cafeteria.
He also needs to speak with the sheriff.
He can’t think of the last time he wanted to do that, but this is not about him. He won’t sleep soundly knowing that Owen is still in danger, and the sheriff seems to be Will’s best shot at finding a solution. He also can’t shake Nate’s revelation during the chaos of that night.He’s going to give you to Hal Darnell.
The notion of something like that happening is preposterous, yet Will believes it to be true. A claim like that can’t come out of nowhere, which means the mayor must have told Nate that directly. From what little information they were able to get out of Nate while they rushed to save Owen, it’s clear that Nate has been playing a double game between the sheriff and themayor, which doesn’t surprise Will one bit.
“Drive slower,” Sheryl says from the backseat.
“If he drives any slower, we’ll be going backward,” Owen says from the passenger seat. “We’ll be home in a few minutes.”
“Once I drop you off, I need to go meet the sheriff,” Will tells Owen.
“I’ll come with you.”
Will shakes his head. “Not right now. I’ll speak with you later.”
“You seem tense.”
That’s because he is. By the end of the day, Owen will likely discover the final secret that Will has been keeping from him. He has no doubt that Owen truly loves him, but there’s a limit to how much darkness a man can accept before he decides to walk away.
“Will?”
“What? Sorry, I’m a bit tired.”
“I don’t like being in the dark about things that involve me.”
“Give it a rest,” Sheryl says. “The man has been through a lot. He’ll tell you more when he’s ready.”
Will shakes his head, thinking that hell must have frozen over if Sheryl is standing up for him.
“Okay,” Owen says and squeezes Will’s knee. “I’ll just take it easy and draw some things.”
Will smiles. “You do that.”
They park in front of Sheryl’s house, where Francie iswaiting with a covered dish. Owen has called her from the hospital to say he was okay.
They climb out of the truck, with Sheryl insisting she doesn’t need help.
“You’re too pale,” Francie tells Owen. She’s wearing an orange puffer coat since it’s a cold spring day.
“I’m the one with a bullet wound,” Sheryl says.
“You’re with the police; Owen isn’t.”
“Oh, he was with the police just fine when he went undercover behind my back.”
Francie gives Owen a hard look. “Is that so?”
He holds Will’s hand firmly. “You arenotleaving me alone with these two.”
Will kisses the side of his head. “Try to enjoy it. I’ll be back soon.”
They walk through the front door, and before Will can return to his truck, Francie calls, “You wait there, Will Thomas. I can spot a man in need of a coffee when I see one.”
He leans against his truck, enjoying the silence and the anticipation of caffeine. He should go see Julie, but he can’t face her today with the bruise on his head. One difficult conversation at a time.
