I’m not at all surprised to find out Will is caring and attentive. But I think he is…
The first sip is salt and butter and carrots. Chicken soup—my favorite. Will came to my house, put pajamas on me, took me to the doctor, and made me chicken soup. Don’t you dare read too much into that, heart.
My heart snootily pushes a pair of glasses up the bridge of its nose. He may be affectionate by nature, but he doesn’t normally do this with other women, it reminds me unhelpfully. I kick my heart in the shins.
“It’s really good, thank you.”
“It’s Mabel’s recipe. She cornered me in the market and forced ingredients into my hands after she learned I was headed over here. She also followed me out to the car and wrote the entire recipe on the back of the grocery receipt, which was good because I’ve never made soup before and it definitely would have ended up tasting more like cat pee than anything.”
I laugh and then wince when my ears, head, and throat all scream. I set down the soup and then rub my temples to ease some of the never-ending pressure. It’s quite possible that a pathetic whine also escapes my mouth.
“Come here,” Will says, not waiting for my response before he sets my feet on the ground and starts adjusting me around. He puts a pillow in his lap and then eases my head down on it. And then he gently runs his fingers over my scalp and my neck in soft massaging strokes. His hands are warm and secure as he moves them over me—but it’s more the fact that he seems to care so much that is making my heart squirm.
“Were your parents affectionate too? Is that where you got it from?”
His fingers pause in my hair, and I think maybe I scared him off. There’s going to be a Will-shaped hole in my front door any minute now.
“Only as affectionate as wolves can be, you know?” he says, trying for levity and coming up short.
I look up at him. “No more jokes. Please tell me.”
He sighs and his hands move through my hair again. “I don’t like talking about my childhood, Annie. In fact, I’ve worked really hard to block it out.”
“I get it. And if you really don’t want to, I’ll drop it. But if there is some part of you that wants to tell me, I promise to be a good listener and not bring it up ever again if you don’t want me to.”
A soft smile touches the corner of his mouth. “No one would ever accuse you of not being a good listener. In fact, I think you’re made to listen too much.”
I reach up and pinch the fabric of his soft T-shirt near his chest and tug lightly. “Tell me. Come on, I have a sick card. Let me use it.”
Will opens his palm faceup. “Let me see it.”
I sigh dramatically and pretend to pull it out of my pajama bottoms. I slap it against his palm. Will holds it up to the light for inspection and then takes an imaginary hole punch and makes a clamping sound with his mouth. He hands the card back. “Yours is only a day pass. Expires at midnight.”
“Deal.”
He casts his eyes to the ceiling like he’s looking for inspiration on where to begin. “Uh—okay, well. In a nutshell, I grew up in a dysfunctional home. There was a lot of fighting and cheating happening between my parents. My dad slept on my floor a lot and openly spilled their baggage when he really should have shut the hell up about it.” Will’s tone is hard as granite on that last sentence, and before I realize what I’m doing, I roll over to face his abdomen. Maybe it’s because he gave me permission, maybe it’s because something about me feels free with Will—I don’t know—but I don’t hesitate before looping my arms around him.
He doesn’t stop brushing his fingers through my hair and across my neck. Doesn’t make me feel like this is anything out of the ordinary. My arms around him feel as natural as breathing.
“Go on,” I urge.
“If you saw me back then—in high school and before—you wouldn’t recognize me,” he says with a sad sort of smile. “I wore polo shirts, Annie. And glasses. And I never socialized, ever.”
“Wait…” I squint up at him. “Do you ever wear glasses now?”
“Only at night after I take my contacts out.”
My ovaries quake at this news. It’s too much to handle, so I swallow, make a noncommittal hmm sound, and then wait for him to continue.
“I busted my ass all through school because I thought”—he adds one short laugh—“I thought it would help. I hoped that if I could be the perfect son for them, if I could help take care of my brother and make sure that we never added additional stress, then…”