Page 14 of Unwanted

Just as the words leave my mouth, my eyes snag on the automatic doors of the hospital and the man who steps through them.

And that’s what he is now. A man.

A man I would recognize in any lifetime.

My lungs overfill at the sight of him, expanding painfully as they press against my rib cage, while that unreliable organ that lives in my chest trips over itself, stuttering and stumbling as my eyes roam down and around every inch of Frankie York.

His red-rimmed eyes squint in the sunlight as he places his hands on his hips and tips his head up to the sky.

He’s a disheveled mess.

A beautiful, heart-rending, disheveled mess.

So far from the grungy-looking young man who left me in my weakest moment four years ago. He’s a sight for sore eyes—in the best and the worst of ways.

The sleeves of his button-down are rolled up to his elbows, and the bottom of his shirt is creased and untucked, hanging over his trousers.

“Arlo, are you there?” Jenika’s voice penetrates my trance but only slightly. My gaze is still locked on him, my body still going haywire at his presence.

“Arlo,” she repeats.

“Yeah,” I respond absentmindedly. “I’m here.”

“Did you hear the last thing I said?”

“I’ve got to go,” I say, completely ignoring her question. “I’ll call you another time.”

I tap my right earphone without waiting for a response and the call disconnects immediately.

My eyes never leave Frankie, my thoughts split in two, part of me wanting to stay on this bench and remain invisible, and the rest wanting his attention, needing his eyes to land on mine. Wanting to watch his expression change when he notices me.

To see if his eyes fill with hate at first.

Maybe anger.

Possibly guilt.

Or will it be pity?

I don’t see her exit the hospital at first, but soon Clem comes up behind him, her mouth moving as one hand rests on his shoulder in comfort, the other offering him a bottle of water.

He shakes his head at whatever she says and pushes away her offer of a drink and then darts to the nearest bin, hunches over, and throws up.

My eyes dart to Clem to see why she isn’t following him, and I see she’s staring at me, expectantly.

What does she want?

Grinding my teeth, I glare at her.

She shrugs, and it’s then I realize what it is she’s doing.

“No,” I mouth before looking over at Frankie, who’s still hunched over.

She starts to walk backward, her eyes never leaving mine. My head shakes vigorously.

Don’t do this to me, Clem.

Without even realizing, I’m on my own two feet, striding in their direction. The closer I get, the farther she walks away.

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