Page 51 of If You Never Come Back
A nurse pops in to hand me a pamphlet on how to care for my injuries, then gives me a crutch.
Wes swipes the pamphlet from my hand, and I prop myself up on the crutches. He gestures forward. “Lead the way.”
* * *
Seven daysof Wes as my personal assistant and it’s only marginally weird now. We haven’t broken any of our rules. Every day he stops by to help me with emails and chores around the apartment before taking the packages I’ve prepped to the post office. Every day we engage in polite, brief conversation.
He even came up with a cute idea of posting a photo of me sitting at my workspace, my arm and leg wrapped, then posting it on my social media to explain the delay in my work. He was right—everyone understood. I received an outpouring of support. Not a single client of mine was upset.
If we didn’t have our history, this would all feel almost professional.
This morning I texted him to bring an extra-large duffle bag to transport the packages. Wes stares at the stack of sealed envelopes and boxes sitting next to my desk, eyes bulging. “So just a few extra today, then?”
From my desk, I roll my eyes, failing to stop the smile that rips loose. “Very funny. I’m trying to be as productive as possible.”
“I can see that.”
He crouches down and starts to shove the envelopes in the duffle bag. He shoots a soft smile at me. “You’ve got a lot to be proud of. What’s you’re doing is impressive.”
I could swear my heart beats faster at the sound of his words. A hot flush makes its way up my chest to my cheeks. I turn away to my desk, pretending to rifle through a random stack of papers.
“That’s nice of you to say. Thanks.”
When I look up at him, he’s still standing there, only this time staring. But it’s a different kind of stare than the usual broody one he’s been employing lately. I remember this one well. Tender and kind with unspoken amounts of affection resting behind those rich brown eyes.
I should look away—but I can’t. Because despite the rules I set, despite our boundaries, I want him to look at me like this, like I’m the only thing in a million-mile radius that he cares to lay eyes on.
“I’m not being nice, Shay. It’s the truth. I’m so proud of you, of the artist you’ve become. You have so much talent and drive. I just wish that—”
His phone ringing interrupts him. I want to yell for him to forget his phone and tell me right now what exactly he wishes.
But he swipes it from his pocket and frowns at the screen before I can utter a word.
“Sorry, one sec,” He says, answering the call. “What’s up, Colin?”
I pretend to sort through the papers on my desk until he’s off the phone, hoping he’ll pick up where he left off when his phone rang.
“Sorry about that,” Wes mutters.
“No problem.” I try to sound as unbothered as possible. I have no idea if I pull it off.
This time I collect all the stray pencils and pens within arm’s reach while I wait for him to complete the sentence he started before he was interrupted. But a minute passes and there’s only silence. He finishes loading the duffle bag and zips it up. That means he’ll be out the door soon. Something inside me aches. I need him to stay. I need him to tell me exactly what he was thinking.
“So…how’s Colin doing?”
Such a pathetic transition, but it’s all I can think of to get him to stick around longer.
“Pretty good. Business has been picking up for him so he switched me from part-time to full-time.”
“Really? That’s great.”
Since Wes has been back, Colin hired him back on as a project manager for his construction company. I wonder what exactly Wes said to him to crawl back into his good graces after breaking up with me and taking off without warning.
A shy smile tugs at his face as he chuckles. “You sound surprised.”
“It’s just…I’m glad he hired you back. After you left, I mean.”
“It took a little groveling,” he says. I wait for Wes to say more, but he doesn’t. “It’s just nice to be able to pay the bills.” He rubs the back of his neck.
