Page 50 of Through the Water

10

Killian

“Branch Rickey once said of me that I was a man with an infinite capacity for immediately making a bad thing worse.”

-Leo Durocher, Nice Guys Finish Last

“Killian Reed, as I live and breathe,” Bailey announced in a falsetto from the doorway to the cafeteria. “Nurses said I might find you here. I let you out of my sight for what—three weeks—and this is what you’ve become? Eating dinner at five-thirty on a Friday night like some commoner?”

I returned the water pitcher to the counter and gave him the finger. “Why, Mr. Bailey, I didn’t have you down on the schedule for today. If you’d told me you were planning a visit, I would have asked the hookers to join us for dinner.”

He clapped me on the shoulder affectionately and reached for the glass in my hand. “Allow me. Now, be honest, Grandpa. Are you taking advantage of the early bird special? Because Viagra ain’t cheap!”

Several patients scowled in his direction, but as usual, Bailey was utterly oblivious to them. I set aside my annoyance and mustered a small smile. It wasn’t his fault I’d spent the better part of the afternoon wanting to put a fist-sized hole through the wall for… well, I had my reasons.

I shrugged. “Cafeteria closes at seven, so it’s not like I have a choice.”

“Christ, seems a bit barbaric. Isn’t what’s-his-face running this?” He asked as he followed me over to an empty table, snapping his fingers repetitively. “The football player? Fuck, I can’t remember his name, but you know who I’m talking about. He signed off on this early dinner bullshit?”

I nodded and leaned my crutches against the wall before joining him. “Look around you, man. I think it’s safe to assume most of these patients are probably in bed by six.”

“Now, tell your Uncle Conor…” He fluttered his lashes. “Are the nurses at least treating you nicely—rolling out the red carpet for the most coveted free agent the sport has ever seen?”

Bailey surveyed the cafeteria, simultaneously fidgeting with a saltshaker and bouncing up and down in his seat. There were times I found his inability to sit still exhausting—but right now, I welcomed the reminder I had a life outside of this place, even if it no longer felt like it.

I knew the ‘most coveted’ bit was little more than candy-coated bullshit, but let it bolster my confidence anyway.

Unfortunately, the moment was ruined when he flashed a manic grin and began making a jerking-off motion with his hand as if I hadn’t known exactly what he was implying when he’d mentioned the nurses.

“Everything’s fine,” I quickly answered, putting a stop to his obscene gesture. “What brought you out this way?”

“Figured I had nothing better to do—” He slammed his hand on the table and boomed, “I’m kidding! Maybe I missed your ugly mug and wanted to catch up. And it’s a damn good thing I did. What’s this—what’s going on with you?”

I returned the saltshaker to the center of the table, avoiding his gaze. “Nothing. Just trying to get out of here—”

“Bullshit.” He leaned back in the chair, scratching his beard with his thumb. “Your energy is shit right now. What have they done to you, man?”

Not them—her.

My attempts to help Ari had only succeeded in dredging up long-buried memories from my past. It seemed she had more in common with my mama than I’d initially realized—a mistake I swore I wouldn’t make again.

Can’t save a woman who doesn’t want to be rescued.

I massaged the back of my neck with a tight smile. “I’m just ready to be back. Listen, has the team—I mean, have you heard anything—”

Proving it just wasn’t my year, the lights suddenly dimmed, and my train of thought zipped on out of the station, leaving me behind on the platform.

Staff members moved about the room, depositing electric candles in the center of the tables while the soft strains of a violin filtered through the speakers.

Bailey rubbed his hands together with another low chuckle, no doubt imagining all the ways the situation could be used against me in the near future. “You didn’t tell me about the romantic dinners, you bastard,” he beamed, lowering the chair legs back to the floor.

As for me—well, I’d suddenly remembered why I’d gotten into the habit of eating in my room on Friday nights.

“Welcome to Restaurant Night,” the director called from the front of the room. “You’ll find your menus in the center of the table. Take a minute to look them over, and someone will be by shortly to get your order.”

“See, it’s just Restaurant Nigh—”

He roughly smacked my shoulder with the back of his hand, eyes lighting up. I followed his stare and exhaled an agitated breath.

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