“Good luck,” she says to Will, earning a single nod.
Outside, the sun has started to set, and the kids will be looking for dinner soon, so we start walking back toward the car, a different sort of silence hanging between us.
He has the door open before I’ve put the car in park. “Will,” I say, scrambling to get out of the car, but he doesn’t stop. Walking faster than I can keep up with, I jog behind him, stopping when he does to unlock the door.
I don’t have anything to say. I don’t even know why I followed him, I just didn’t want him to get out of the car like that. To leave things the way they are, angry and hurt, like we’ve done so many times before.
“I’m good,” he says, shoving the door open and entering his less-than-stellar living situation. When I move to follow him inside, he rounds on me. “What are you doing?”
“I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I told you I’m fine.”
“Are you though?” I press, stepping closer.
His jaw is clenched, his hands are permanent fists, and I can’t help but wonder if this is when he stops tolerating me. But then he goes to the window, standing with his back to me, looking out at the parking lot through the gap in the curtains.
I stay near the door, giving him what little space I can.
“It’ll take time. People need to see that you’re—”
“Don’t,” he says, his voice low, but I don’t let him intimidate me. I know he’s hurting.
“It’s not going to happen in a day. You know how people in this town are. But once they get used to you being back—”
“I said don’t.” He turns around to face me, and he looks angry the way he always does, on the brink of a fight. But I see past that. I see the red eyes, the glint to them, the tremble in his hands. “Why do you always gotta do this shit, huh?”
“Do what?”
“Thethingyou do.” He gestures at me. “Always trying to explain everything, to fix everything, to fixme.” He presses his lips together, looking back at the window. “I never asked you to help me. I didn’t want your help.”
“You need—”
“I need you to leave me alone,” he says, louder now, a crack in his voice. “I’ve been asking you to leave me the hell alone, and you keep showing up. With the phone and the food and the job and now this.” He shakes his head, rubbing his hand over his face. “You don’t even like me. So what are you doing, Nolan? What do you want from me?”
The question hits me somewhere that I can’t go. That I don’t understand. That makes me pause.
I stand there, and I don’t have an answer, and I don’t know why. But he thinks he does, and by the look on his face, I’ve made everything worse. “Just leave me alone,” he says, quiet enough to break your heart. “Please.”
That gets to me. How dejected he sounds. Worn down, alone in the world, and asking for something I’ve been making impossible.
Peace.
From me.
“Okay,” I say, nodding when he looks up at me. “Okay.”
If he wants to be left alone, I can do that.
Chapter 7
It’s what he said he wanted, so that’s what I’ve been doing. I’m not forcing my company on a grown man. If he wants to sit in the motel room and rot, then far be it from me to stop him.
I’ve been telling myself that every day for seven days, but it still hasn’t become the truth.
Because I think I’ve been a dick.
I haven’t thought about his feelings in all of this. What I could do to make him feel better. To make the transition easier. He was in jail for nearly a decade, and now, to make my life easier, I’ve been trying to force him into a box of normalcy.
