Page 44 of When the Smoke Clears

Everleigh

“Oh!” My mom gasps, coming out of the bathroom just as I reach the top of the stairs to brush and floss my teeth. “Where did you go? And why didn’t you leave me a message? Did you have to deal with a patient?” She flips her hair over her shoulder and rubs her tired eyes.

I glance down at my dress. “Do you think I dress like this for patients?”

She inspects me. “I’m half asleep, dear. I didn’t focus on your outfit.”

“I went to the bar with Will.”

She perks up like I just infused espresso into her veins. “Do tell.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” I squeeze past her to brush my teeth.

“Was it a date?”

I shake my head, turning on my electric toothbrush.

“He’s cute,” she whispers with a hand cupped at the side of her mouth.

I nod and smirk over my mouthful of suds.

“He’s still upset about taking your virginity.”

I stare at her while I finish brushing my teeth. After I spit and retrieve the floss, I turn toward her and lean against the counter, wrapping the floss around my fingers. “He’s upset I was seventeen. And there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

“You can apologize.”

I shrug. “I’ve done that. And maybe he just needs time to accept my apology. It’s still new, and he might need a minute to gauge my sincerity. But sometimes an apology (no matter how sincere) is not enough. Sometimes the only thing that will make something better for someone is going back in time and undoing it. Of course, that’s not possible. I have this discussion all the time with patients. We look for a solution to make amends or find a way to take what is available. Maybe that’s an apology or compensation. And often the patient thinks that will make things better, but then they get what they think they need and find out it’s not enough.”

“So then what?”

I work the floss between my teeth and mumble, “Then nothing. It’s called job security, Mom.”

She chuckles. “That’s terrible.”

I nod. “It is. But it’s life.”

Mom blows me a kiss and heads back to bed. “Night, hun.”

I rinse my mouth with mouthwash, remove my makeup, and head back to the shed, passing Will on the way. He ignores me because he’s in the gaming zone.

After I change into a tight white tank top and cotton shorts, I return to the house, plopping down on the sofa next to Will.

“I didn’t tell you I was seventeen because I was seventeen. So close to eighteen.”

His thumbs furiously punch the controller as he ignores me.

“I’m thinking about building a barndominium. Do you know what that is?”

“I do,” he says.

Will’s two-word response is a thrill. I’m easily satisfied. Does he remember just how easily?

“A house that resembles a barn on the outside, usually built with a steel frame and metal exterior.”

“Correct. I heard you’re pretty handy. If you want to make some extra money on your days off, I’d consider hiring you to help me finish the inside after it’s constructed.”

“Who told you I’m pretty handy?” he asks, killing two guys.