Page 87 of When the Smoke Clears

“You’re seventeen? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’ll be eighteen next month,” she said as if that made a difference.

Your Honor, she was almost eighteen. What’s thirty days? Me? Oh, yes. I’m twenty-nine. Do I know math? Yes. I’m aware that’s twelve years older.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” My voice boomed, and she flinched. “How are you in medical school?”

“Well, I’m uh . . . smart.”

I grabbed the door handle and shot her a scowl. “Smart? You’re not smart, Everleigh. You’re a fucking idiot. A conniving little liar who’s trying to get me arrested.”

“Will . . .” Tears welled in her eyes.

“No.” I shook my head and flew out the door, slamming it closed behind me.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Everleigh

It’s been three months since Will left. He occasionally texts me, but only in response to my texts asking about him and his parents. Sometimes he replies with a thumbs-up emoji, like when I moved out and sent him a photo of my Airstream with my barndominium under construction in the background. I officially have it enclosed and heated.

“Do you have plans for this weekend?” I ask Jamie as we leave the clinic for the day. She has the cutest little baby bump she rests her hand on, but it’s not visible unless she’s in a fitted shirt.

“Will drove down this morning, so we’re doing a Friendsgiving Saturday since Maren and Ozzy have plans for Thanksgiving next week. And Will wants to be home, of course, with his parents. He’ll go home Sunday. His sister and her family have been in Somers this week. They did Thanksgiving early.”

My heart plummets into my stomach. Will’s in town, but he didn’t mention it?

“Is this his first time back since he moved?” I ask as we walk toward our cars parked beside each other.

“No. I think it’s like . . . maybe the third.”

It’s happening all over again. William Landry is stabbing a knife into my chest and twisting it side to side.

“He stayed with Maren and Ozzy last time because Lola desperately wanted him to, but he had to drink Benadryl like water to keep his cat allergies from killing him.” She laughs.

I muster a smile, but it’s far from real. He’s keeping me at arm’s length. I get it. The analytical part of my brain knows why, but my heart doesn’t care what my brain says. It just fucking hurts.

“How’s his dad? The last time I texted him, he said his dad was just getting weaker and more confused.”

“You text him?” Jamie asks, stopping at her car door and giving me a raised eyebrow.

I bite my tongue to keep from blurting out the truth, but it’s hard. I swear I can taste blood. “Sometimes.” I smile. “I know you said to let him go. And clearly I have. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

However, I’m not a friend, because I’m not invited to Friendsgiving.

Jamie narrows her eyes and slowly nods. “Well, I haven’t seen him today. He arrived after I left for work. We’re hanging out tonight, so I’ll get a chance to catch up. But last week I talked to him. His dad’s been in hospice care for the past month.”

I return a tiny nod and open my mouth to say more but rethink that decision. Everything about Will comes with an asterisk because his dad is dying.

I love him, but his dad is dying.

The chemistry between us never died, but his dad is dying.

I want to scream at him for not coming to see me on his two other trips back to Missoula, but his dad is dying.

“Tell him ‘hi,’” I say. “Sounds like you’re all going to have a fun time.”

“Thanks.” She eyes me, scraping her teeth over her bottom lip. “I’d invite you over tonight, but I’m sure you have—”