“I did let him go, Oakley,” she calls at my back. “You don’t get to judge me for what happened during my relationship with my husband.”
“And you don’t get to interject yourself into ours.”
Laura says nothing to that, and I walk down the hall toward Lawson’s room. I pace outside of it for a moment, not wanting to go inside while my anger is still broadcast across my face.
I used to have sympathy for Laura. And I still do, to some degree.
But she knew. She knew Lawson was gay, and she held on to him anyways.
I don’t think I can forgive her for that.
Once I’m feeling calm enough, I crack open Lawson’s door. His head turns my way, his gaze skipping behind me as if expecting Laura to return.
“She left,” I tell him, walking over to the man who’s spent so much of his life living for others. I don’t want him to sacrifice a single thing for me. I want him to have everything he’s ever wanted. I want himhappy. Loved. I want every dream of his to come true, no matter how big or how small. There’s not a thing I would deny him. “Beef stew, you said?”
His head cocks. “Yes?”
“I’ll make you beef stew.”
Lawson reaches for me, a soft smile settling on his face amidst the exhaustion of this day. “You’ll need to get me home first. Your place? Or…”
“If you want,” I say quickly, my heart thumping at the idea of Lawson coming home with me. Staying, maybe.
He nods, letting out a sigh. His eyes trace down my face, stopping at my mouth. My breath hitches when his gaze rises back to my eyes. “Oak.”
“Not here,” I say, my voice sounding like gravel. “My first time kissing you isn’t going to be in a hospital room after you flipped your truck.”
“Rolled it,” he mutters, even as his lips twitch.
“Semantics.”
“But you will?” he checks, eyes on my mouth again.
Fuck.
I clear my throat. “Oh, I will. Many, many times.”
“Is that a promise?” he asks, longing mixed in with that cheekiness I so love.
In answer, I hold out my pinkie. My friend of forty-three years stares at it for only a beat before looping his pinkie withmine. I bring his hand up to kiss the side of his little finger, whiskey eyes staring at me all the while.
“It’s a promise.”
Lawson is released from the hospital the following day with a prescription for extra-strength pain relievers he doesn’t bother filling—because“Christ, Oak, I can just take four regular pills. Why do I need to pay more for a horse pill I don’t wanna swallow?”—as well as a good dozen text messages and voicemails from his family members checking in.
“I’mfine,” I hear Lawson telling Marigold over the phone, his voice exasperated.
I head to the back door, unlocking it for Bell, unsurprised when she wanders in to see us.
“Yeah, I’m at Oakley’s,” Lawson says. “Yes, I have clothes. Jesus, what is this? I was in a car crash. I didn’t fall back in time.”
I chuckle, earning a glare from the man. “Just invite them over.”
Lawson tells his mom to hold on for a second before pulling his phone away from his ear. “What?”
“Tell them to come over for beef stew. They’ll see you’re fine, you’ll deal with the lot of them for an hour or two, and then you’ll be done with it.”
Lawson’s brow remains pinched.
