“Mm.”
I set the can down, turning to face him, my body deflating when I look at him. So much for my crush being gone. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I don’twantyou to say anything. I’m just pointing out that you’ve been avoiding me.”
He looks down, his gaze roaming over my body, and I’m hit with the memory of his eyes doing the exact thing in the mirror, my clothes on the floor. My cheeks are hot at the image, I can feel it, and I know he can see it when his lips slide up into a smirk.
He reaches out, pinching the fabric of my sweater, letting it go. “How’s Karen?”
“She’s—” I pause, feeling like this is a test. For what, I have no idea. “She’s good.”
“Good,” he says, turning back to his stack of food, handing me a can of chickpeas without looking at me. “I think this is a bean.”
We work our way through the rest of the donations in silence, somehow more uncomfortable than before. It feels like he’s punishing me, but I don’t know what. Karen is a good woman, and it’s been over a year since Jess left. I’m not doing anything wrong.
It happens when I’m distracted, helping Addie at her table, organizing toys when she doesn’t know what to do with one that doesn’t work. I don’t notice anything wrong at first, but we both look up when a blanket of quiet falls over the entire room.
There’s a man near the canned goods table. I know him vaguely. Travis, I think. His wife and kids are patients, but he isn’t. He went to school a few years behind me, works at the auto shop. He’s a big guy, tall and broad, and his teenage son is standing off to the side with his arms crossed.
They’re both looking at Will.
“They let anybody in here these days,” he says, loud enough that Addie and I can hear from across the room.
“I know they need help.” He turns to his son like they’re having a conversation, even though his words are meant for Will. “Didn’t realize that included criminals.” He sets down the can he’s holding, turning toward the man.
I’m already moving, but it doesn’t feel fast enough.
“Probably casing the place. Seeing what all he can steal. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“What was that?” Will speaks up, and it would sound intimidating, even to me, if he didn’t look the way he did that first week when no one would hire him.
“I think you heard me.”
That seems to set him off. He shoves between the tables pushed together, heading straight for the man determined to rile him up. “Will.” I slide in front of him, stopping him with a hand on his arm. “Come on, he’s not worth it.”
He doesn’t spare me a glance, his eyes fixed over my shoulder, and I can feel the tension in his body, vibrating through him.
“Somebody ought to tell Dr. Murphy,” Travis continues, addressing the growing audience, “that nobody wants a convicted drug dealer at a family event. We got kids here.”
At that, Will moves. I grab his arm fully now, trying to stop him from doing something stupid, but he pulls out of my grip, hard enough that I take a step back. “Fuck off, Nolan.”
To my surprise, he doesn’t go after Travis. He turns toward the exit, his hands in his pockets and his head down, the room watching him go in silence.
I look after him, and I start to follow when I hear Frank behind me. “You need to leave, boy.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said you need to leave,” he repeats, his voice taking on a tone I’ve never heard. “Before things get ugly.”
Travis looks around, finding no backup, no one willing to stand up against Frank Davis, and the mean look he’s been wearing falls from his face. “Whatever, man.”
Joyce is standing with her hand pressed against her chest, watching her husband as he picks up his coffee and goes back to the group of older men he was standing with before. “What are you all looking at?” he says to the group, leading everyone to go back to their stations, more shaken up than before.
He’s outside around the side of the building, leaning against the brick, staring up at the stars. When he hears me, he groans. “Go away.”
I ignore him, stopping at his side, leaning against the wall. His jaw is clenched, and his breath is coming out in puffs of smoke from the cold. This close to his face, I can see faint freckles on his nose, and his cheeks turning a splotchy red.
“I don’t know why I even try,” he says, keeping his eyes on the sky. “Walked in there thinking maybe people might give me a chance this time, trying to do something good.” He shakes his head. “And that’s what I get.”
