by Fiona West
“Y-yeah. Yes,” she stammered. Her own ice cream was dripping down her hand.
“Need a napkin?” She could read him well enough to know he thought she’d lost her mind. Say something to restore confidence, Buchanan. Something that doesn’t make you sound like a sex-addled horndog.
“Sure.” Yeah, that was it. That’d do the trick. Kyle held out a brown recycled paper napkin to her.
“You okay?”
“It’s our third date,” she blurted out. She stopped herself before she got to the rest: And I want you to show me what you were thinking about in the trailer.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“So,” she prompted, wiping her hand. “On the third date, a lot of people . . .” Ainsley gestured between them vaguely.
He looked at her blankly, then licked his darn cone again. “Plan a fourth date?”
If her hands had been even remotely clean, she would’ve smacked her own forehead in frustration.
“No, they don’t plan a fourth date—”
“I’m sure some of them do.” He bounced his gaze towards the high school couple who’d just walked in. His knee was shaking under the table; he had to be joking.
“Are you messing with me? Because if you’re messing with me . . .”
He finally cracked a smile. “It’s so easy. It’s harder not to, really.”
Ainsley threw her balled-up napkin at him, and he laughed, low and quiet. “You’re a jerk.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m not really,” he chuckled, grinning. “But I do think we should hold off a while yet.”
“Stop, Kyle. Seriously.”
“No, I am serious now.” He took a swig of his water, and when he put down the glass, she scrutinized his face. He looked as determined as he had the time he’d won the Turkey Trot in ’03. Daniel had bet him a month of laundry-doing that he couldn’t win it all. She’d made a note then and there to never bet Kyle on anything . . . except now she kind of was. She was subjecting her future plans and her reputation to the whims of a Durand.
She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Tell me you’re joking. Please.”
He shook his head, apparently calm. “Studies show that lots of millennials aren’t having sex. They call it a sex recession. We wouldn’t be alone.”
“Yes, but I want to be alone. That’s the point.”
“I hear that, but I just don’t think it’s wise. If you became pregnant . . .”
She huffed. “I’m not going to get pregnant, Kyle. I’m on the pill.”
“It’s only 91 percent effective, adjusting for human factors. And you’re pretty forgetful; I bet you don’t take it properly. And condoms are no better, that’s only 85 percent. Not great odds, really.”
Her mouth fell open. She’d forgotten it just last night. It helped with her acne, so it didn’t really matter for procreative purposes. Of course she’d take it correctly if it did . . . if it mattered. But she couldn’t exactly deny his claim when she’d screwed it up just last night, and he saw the truth on her face.
Kyle laughed. “See? I’m not ready to have a kid. Are you?”
“Yes.” The word jumped out before she could stuff it back down into her heart, and her face heated as she scrambled to explain. “I’ve always wanted kids.” But what she didn’t want was to trap someone who didn’t love her into a lifelong relationship, whether that was co-parenting or marriage. She understood his reservations from that standpoint, but . . . her girl parts were blubbering as her brain tried to explain that this did make some sense.
“No surprise there,” he said quietly. “But I’m not willing to take chances. Look at Starla and Charlie, Ains. Their relationship is so screwed up, they should be on Dr. Phil.”
“Is that show still on?”
“Focus. They had a kid—a great kid, but still a kid they weren’t ready for. I still have a lot on my plate with work. I’m helping Dr. Baker with the residency program, and they need a lot of supervision; and that’s in addition to my emergency room shifts.” He reached across to touch her hand, but she pulled it back just in time. She wasn’t trying to punish him . . . She was just so disappointed. She couldn’t take physical contact right now; she’d been primed for so much more than hand holding tonight, and her body was not taking the news well. It was then Ainsley noticed several other patrons were watching them, and, realizing they were caught, the eavesdroppers quickly went back to their own conversations.
He got up and motioned for her to scoot over. She gave him a hard look, and he hooked his mouth up in half a smile. “Please?” he said.
Begrudgingly, she let him into the booth and onto the seat next to her. He sat down without touching her, even though she could tell he wanted to. He played with his napkin under the table, twisting it. She’d thought he had more to say, but he just stared at her, pleading in his gaze.
“But before this, with other girlfriends, you . . . did, right?”
“No.”
“Never?” she whispered, aghast. “But all those girls were always hanging around you . . .”
He shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. It just wasn’t right.” That made her feel a little bit better. Maybe it wasn’t personal, then. But she was still mad.
“You could’ve told me earlier.”
“Yes. I should’ve. I’m sorry.”
“Before I wasted all that time shaving everything. It’s fall now. I don’t have to, no one else is going to know.”
His gaze heated, and he looked her up and down a little. “Everything?”
“You’ll never know now, will you?”
“Oh, come on . . .”
“Nope. No one but me will get to appreciate my efforts tonight.”
“That’s just cruel.”
“You’re just cruel.”
“I didn’t say never. Just not . . .”
“Not yet.” In the blink of an eye, she was seventeen again, sitting with Shane Burgess at Annie’s, sharing a milkshake. He’d been showering attention on her for a few weeks, and he’d been touching her all night, making her crazy in the best way. Too bad he hadn’t had the same reservations about being committed to each other before they hopped into bed . . . That had certainly aimed her high school social life in an awful direction. The fallout had been worse than she’d imagined was even possible.
“It’s okay.” It wasn’t, really. It made her feel small. She felt like she’d shown up for a costume party in street clothes . . . relationships weren’t supposed to make you feel out of place. She wanted to leave. “Let’s go home.”
“No, Ainsley, just—” Kyle growled.
“Now, please.”
“I can see us together. In the future, I mean. Can’t you?”
“I . . . I don’t know. I guess so.” Of course she could. Pushing their babies in a double stroller, going for morning runs. Him collapsing into bed after a long shift, still hungry to connect with her, making her pancakes in the morning. Her decorating her room for the next school year, making him do the heavy lifting. Him grumbling but loving it.
“Let’s just give it a little more time, okay? Please?” He seemed so genuinely agitated, his leg shaking the whole bench.
She sighed, looking away. “Well, it doesn’t seem like I have a choice, so . . .” She pushed on his hips, and he stood from the booth, gathering their coats. “Can’t believe I painted my toenails for this dumb dragon.”
“What did you say?”
Oops. “Nothing.”
“Did you call me a dragon?”
“It’s not an insult . . .” She held the door for him, trying to soften the blow with an act of consideration.
“Ainsley, you’re calling me an animal! How am I supposed to take that as a compliment?”
“Because it’s a really awesome animal! It’s like calling someone a unicorn, right? Because they’re so unusual and unique. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever known. I just . . . I just don’t kn
ow how else to classify you sometimes.”
He opened the car door for her, still clearly displeased. “Animalia, Chordata, Mammalia, Primates, Hominidae, Homo sapiens. Same as you.” She climbed into the passenger seat and cringed when he slammed her door shut.
This is so not how I imagined this date ending . . .
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THIS WAS THE LAST THING he wanted to be doing today. The woman handcuffed to the bed was shaking, and Kyle gave himself an unnecessary reminder to avoid meth at all costs. It held no interest for him, but it didn’t hurt to remind himself from time to time. His curiosity could be stirred sometimes by unusual things, and then a passing interest could become an obsession. Getting obsessed with meth would be fatal.
He’d just broken the patient’s skin, ignoring her moans, when he heard the whisper: “He’s a machine.” He was used to people likening him to some kind of mechanical creation. Robot. Android. It was all the same. Reductive.
“I’m not, actually.” Kyle didn’t look up from his work. “But if you pay attention to what I’m doing, you might learn something. Unless you’re a machine, in which case you can only learn something if your subroutines will allow learning.” He taped down the needle and moved to make a note in her chart. But the comment was still there, in his head, stuck like a piece of gum to his shoe. He wanted it off. It was as terrible and uncomfortable as the real thing; he’d never understood gum chewing as a pastime. The residents whispered with their heads together, then left as the woman began to fall unconscious. Kyle retreated to the on-call room, still feeling that comment. Out, out, out.
Daniel caught his arm. “Hey. Greg didn’t mean it like that. He meant it like a compliment.”
“How is being called a machine a compliment? Machines are built, made by someone. They’re not capable of independent thought. I’m eminently capable. No one made me.”
“Are you still confused about where babies come from? Do we need to have the sex talk again? Thank God you didn’t become an OB/GYN.” His brother grinned, but seeing that his joke didn’t get the reaction he’d hoped for, he sobered. “He meant that he envies how you can set your emotions aside in situations like that. Seeing her like that was upsetting for Dr. Trout. That’s all.”
Kyle sat down heavily on the saggy couch. “I suppose that’s an advantage sometimes.”
“Sometimes,” Daniel agreed, flopping down next to him. He let his head tip toward Kyle, and it fell hard on his shoulder. The weight felt nice, but he didn’t want people seeing them snuggling, even if they were related.
“Get off me.”
“No.”
“I did feel bad for the girl.”
“I know you did, bro.”
“They don’t. They think I don’t feel anything, just because it doesn’t show on the outside.”
“Screw them. Who cares? You’re a great doctor. Anyone who’s seen you in action knows that. Your brain is just wired different.”
“My brain gives me an advantage in many situations. I’m just not sure it . . .”
His brother sat up and looked at him. “Not sure it what?”
“Not sure it knows what to do with Ainsley.”
Daniel smiled knowingly. “Because she pushes all your safety buttons.”
Kyle dragged both his hands through his dark hair, letting out a deep sigh. “She pushes all my buttons, period.”
“You could probably find someone else, you know.”
“You give terrible advice. You’re supposed to tell me to persevere, to hang in there. That’s what I told you with Winnie.”
“No, you told me I was shallow. You didn’t even sugarcoat it, just laid it out there. ‘You’re shallow, Daniel.’”
“It’s the same thing. I was motivating you, and I told you as nicely as I could. I was only pointing out your faults so you could work on them, to become the person Winnie needed you to be.”
“I wish that didn’t make sense.” Daniel paused. “Do you want to make it work with Ainsley?”
“Of course I do. I love her.”
His brother blinked at him rapidly.
“That surprises you?”
“Yeah, a little bit. I mean, I knew you liked her a lot, but you guys haven’t . . .” Daniel must’ve seen the hard look in his eyes, because he backtracked quickly. “Haven’t been together that long.”
“That’s not what you were going to say.” Kyle stood up and crossed his arms, feeling caught. Feeling like he’d been outed. “She told you.”
“No,” Daniel said quickly, “she told Winnie; Ainsley and I don’t talk about sex. She’s just frustrated, bro. Cut her a little slack. She needed to talk to someone; she’s trying to figure this out, too.”
“Do you think I should . . .” Kyle’s face burned. He didn’t want to talk about this, even with Daniel. And he found it easier to talk to Daniel than any of his other siblings, even though Philip probably knew more about long-term relationships, and Maggie was a woman. Daniel just sat, hands folded over his belly, waiting. “Do you think I should have sex with her?”
“Do you want to?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “But I’ve waited a long time for this. ‘This’ being a relationship that I really want to be in. And I don’t want the physical aspect to screw things up. I don’t know how that’s going to go for me.”
“Then wait.”
“None of my previous girlfriends could accept my decision to limit our physical relationship. I don’t want to lose her because she’s frustrated. I don’t want her angry with me.”
“Then don’t wait.”
“You’re being intentionally unhelpful,” Kyle growled, and Daniel chuckled.
“No, I’m not, it’s just not straightforward. But if Ainsley loves you, too, then she’ll wait. It might help her to know that there are other factors involved. Let her know that you’re attracted to her.”
“I’m sure she already knows,” he said dismissively. “She spends a lot of time close to my body. I’m sure she can feel it.”
“Well,” Daniel said slowly, “there’s body attraction and there’s heart attraction. Also, women like to hear things out loud. Share your thinking with her. It’ll help. I promise.”
“That’s a pointless promise; if it turns out to be bad advice, it won’t come back on you, it’ll come back on me.”
“It’s an idiom, smarty.” Daniel threw a pillow at him, and Kyle caught it and threw it back. Daniel picked up a couch cushion to defend himself, but they both froze when the door opened.
“There you are,” Winnie said, smiling. “I should’ve known you’d be together. Your dad’s here.”
“Why?” Kyle asked.
“I’m not sure. Something about lunch?”
“Oh. Right. We’re going out together.”
“And you didn’t invite me?” Kyle couldn’t tell if Daniel was actually hurt by this; he employed a lot of sarcasm that was sometimes hard to distinguish from actual feelings.
“No, we didn’t. He just wanted to spend time with me.”
“Fine, then. See if I invite you the next time we go for a bike ride.”
“Good, I don’t want to be invited. I have no interest in bike riding.”
“It’s the helmets, isn’t it?” Daniel asked, grinning.
“I’ve told you a thousand times that it’s the helmets.”
“So ride without one.”
“You’re so ridiculous. I can’t even with you.” Kyle grabbed his backpack from the lockers and slammed it shut, taking the time to check his Master lock briefly before leaving. He didn’t want to give his brother any opportunity to mess with his stuff while he was gone. His father was waiting for him near the nurses’ station by the front door.
“Hey, son.”
Kyle grunted an appropriate greeting.
“Ready to go?”
“Yes. Nurse Harper, please inform anyone who asks for me that I’ve gone out to lunch and will be back shortly.”
“Will do.”
He saluted. “Nice to see you, Dr. Durand Senior.”
“Nice to see you, too,” his father said, giving a friendly wave. “So, where to?”
“You choose. It’s been a taxing day.”
“No, that’s April fifteenth.” His dad laughed at his own joke, and Kyle rolled his eyes. “Lighten up, son. Let’s walk to Mashita; it’s such a nice day out. I gotta soak up the sun while I can.”
“That’s fine.” They walked three blocks in silence. Kyle’s brain began to ease its death grip on analyzing his conversation with his brother and the situation with Ainsley. Walking did feel good; it was proven to release endorphins and boost one’s mood. It probably helped that it wasn’t raining.
“Daniel still giving you trouble at home?”
Kyle snorted. “When hasn’t he given me trouble? All he does is make messes and hog the living room furniture.” And help me with personal problems and give me someone to talk to at dinner and share a pot of coffee with.
“I bet you’re glad he’s moving out then, eh?”
Kyle didn’t answer. Surely it was obvious. He let his heels strike the concrete more forcefully with sharp, staccato steps.
“How are things going with Ainsley?”
“Fine. How are things going with Mom?”
Evan grinned. “Things with Mom are fine, thanks for asking. The rest of them seem to assume that Mom and I are fine no matter what.”
Kyle grimaced. “Relationships are a lot of work. I wouldn’t take that for granted.” He hadn’t meant to go there in his conversation with his dad . . . Maybe it was too weird. But Evan wouldn’t tell anyone, and he did have thirty plus years of marriage experience. “Did you and Mom ever have . . . relationship issues?”
“You mean like arguments? Oh, definitely. Just last weekend, she wanted to go to Sisters to check out an antique—”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean like . . . sex issues.”
His father turned his head toward him slowly. “Yeah. All relationships are bumpy in some ways. I wouldn’t say they were big problems. But right after you were born especially, we weren’t on the same page. She was exhausted and insecure about the weight she’d gained, and I was lonely and resented you and Philip getting all her attention. And of course, being autistic, you hated being a baby and basically never slept. But we worked through it. I started helping out more at home, cut back my hours.”