Page 89 of When the Smoke Clears

“It was a litmus test,” Jamie says with a laugh. Will slides his gaze to her. “Not really. I didn’t know that Fitz blabbermouthed to Will. I had to tell Everleigh because I needed to explain why I was looking for work in Missoula. Fitz said they’d probably tell each other. And I said only if you two were sleeping together.”

I stiffen, moving only my eyes in Will’s direction. He pauses his beer at his lips and grins at Jamie. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“You all suck. I should have known first,” Maren says.

“So, Everleigh,” Ozzy interrupts as if he knows that a change in subject will calm Maren, “how’s construction on your barndo going?”

“Really good. I’m framing walls.”

“Do you need help?” Ozzy asks.

“Help is great,” I say, looking at Will, and he playfully narrows his eyes at me. “But I know everyone is busy. And I’m fine in my Airstream. So it will get finished when it gets finished. I don’t mind the process.”

“I’m not too busy.” Ozzy shrugs. “Maybe I can bring Lola and she can learn a few things.”

“You’re a good man, Ozzy,” I say. “Maren is lucky to have you. Good men are hard to come by.”

Fitz clears his throat.

“You’re one of the good ones, too, Fitz. I didn’t forget about you.” I smirk at Jamie.

“Will’s a man too,” Fitz says with his back to us as he turns the burgers. “I don’t know if he’s a good man, but he would be all over that kind of work if he still lived around here.”

“I’d be all over a lot of things if I still lived here,” Will says before finishing the last swig of his beer. “Because I am good. A good man who is good at things.”

Heat crawls up my neck. What does he mean by that?

He stands. “Can I get anyone anything else to drink while I’m inside?”

“Everleigh, what can we get you?” Jamie asks.

“Uh . . .” I look around at what everyone else is drinking.

“There are lots of options in the fridge,” she says. “Go take a look.”

“Thanks.” I follow Will into the kitchen.

He tosses his empty bottle into the recycling bin. I want to say something. But what? Everything comes with that asterisk. And everything I want to say would sound like I’m making things about me.

And maybe I am.

After taking a cherry-lime sparkling water from the fridge, I close the door and face Will. He draws a long breath and leans his backside against the counter, hands on the edge.

“It’s good to see you,” he says.

I swallow my response. It’s a long one, with bullet points and lots of exclamation marks. A few words in all caps.

“There seems to be a lot of good going around tonight.” I stare at him, but he gives nothing away. “It’s good to see you too,” I say because I mean it.

I’m okay with silence. When I’m with patients, these pauses allow space for deeper self-reflection and time to process emotions. Nothing is rushed. But the silence between us in this kitchen feels like a lie, like there’s nothing to say. Yet, there’s so much to say.

“Working?” I ask.

“Volunteer with the fire department.”

“Gaming?”

He grins. “More than I should be. It’s an escape.”