And on top of everything was the increasingly pressing fact that he had yet to tell her the truth. He should have told her in the theater, but every time he’d opened his mouth, he couldn’t say it.
Bonny bumped her face against his jaw. He sighed and gave her chin a scratch. With a purr of contentment, she settled back into his lap, her tail curling around his forearm. If only everyone was so easily appeased.
He glanced at the time in the lower right corner of his screen. He’d had a sandwich for dinner hours ago and his stomach was grumbling again. Maybe Finn would want to go out for a burger.
Before shutting down his laptop, he pulled up the website for his bank account and logged in. His balance was pitiful, but at least it matched what he’d been expecting to see. He transferred everything except fifty dollars—enough to get by before his next paycheck from James—to the account he’d opened for his parents, which he noted sat at a balance of twenty-three cents. He didn’t much care what his parents spent the money on, so long as they stopped flooding his inbox at the end of every month with emails that were simultaneously nice and resentful.
The first time they contacted him after he came to America was by phone, and it had caught Will completely by surprise. More surprising had been when his dad told him he was proud that his son was not only attending University, but that he’d come to America to make a new life for himself. For the briefest of moments, Will had felt … elation.
He should have anticipated what was coming, but he’d been blindsided by a hope he hadn’t known he was holding onto. His dad went on to say that if Will had the means to attend University in America, then he should do what he could to help his parents as well. What sort of selfish son would leave his parents to live like paupers in their wee neighborhood while he lived the American dream?
Will had worked three jobs—two to save up to leave Scotland and the third to supplement his parents’ income. Most days, he’d been so exhausted that he could barely speak, and his dad knew that. He had made it this far on his own merit and his own refusal to fail, and yet, listening to his dad, for a moment, Will had believed him.
Maybe he’d been selfish for leaving them. Selfish for wanting his own life, for wanting to be more than a bus driver like his dad. Coming all the way to America had, perhaps, been a bit extreme. He could have just gone to Edinburgh or London. Or anywhere else in Europe.
He supposed his dad had been right in one thing—Will had been running away. And remaining anywhere on the same continent just wouldn’t have been far enough.
But that particular conversation had happened almost three years ago. Will had long since made his peace with it. He was happy here. Even though his parents hadn’t been around much, it didn’t matter who they were as people because they were still his parents. And he was still their son. He had a responsibility to help them if he could.
Money transfer complete, he closed his laptop and rubbed his temple. He needed a drink. He reached for his cell phone.
As it turned out, Finn was already a step ahead of him.
Half an hour later, Will met his friend at a nearby bar. Finn greeted him with a rough pat on the back and immediately shoved a mug of beer into his hand.
“Where’s everyone else?” Will asked, glancing around the bar. He hadn’t been out with the guys for a couple weeks, and one of them had caught him after psych the other day to remind him to come out that weekend.
“Just me,” Finn muttered into his drink.
Will shrugged and took a gulp of cold beer. “Are you drunk already?” he asked.
“No, but give me another hour.” Finn tossed back the rest of his beer and then refilled his mug.
Will gave the nearly empty pitcher a curious look. “What happened?”
“I’m a fuck-up, that’s what happened.” He made to toss back another mugful of beer, but Will put a hand on his forearm to stop him.
“Unless you ran over someone’s dog, I’m not sure I see how you could have screwed up badly enough to need …” He made a nebulous gesture at Finn’s current near-drunk state. “All this.”
“Excuse me?”
Someone tapped Will’s shoulder. At the interruption, he swiveled around in his bar stool to find a pretty girl standing before him, tucking ginger curls behind her ear.
“Hi,” she said, smiling. She had freckles across the bridge of her nose.
“Hello,” Will returned.
He glanced back at Finn, who rolled his eyes and muttered, “I keep telling you it’s the accent.”
“I’m Sara,” she said and held out her hand. “Do you go to REU?”
He shook her hand to be polite. She really was quite pretty, and under normal circumstances, he probably would have been glad to continue talking to her. But Finn had that ‘I’m a shadow of a man’ look, and Will hadn’t come here to meet someone.
Besides, there was only one girl he wanted to be with at the moment.
“Sara, it’s nice to meet you. And I’m really quite sorry, but my friend here is having a bit of a night so …”
She seemed to take the hint because she put up her hands, and her cheeks were pink even beneath the yellow bar lights. “Oh no, it’s okay, I—er, sorry for bugging you.”
She made a hasty exit back to the booth where her friends waited, all leaning forward to watch their exchange. Since they were staring—and now glaring—he gave them an apologetic smile before turning back to his friend.
“So tell me what happened,” Will said.
Finn, meanwhile, had emptied the last of the pitcher into his mug and was staring into its murky depths like he was searching for life.
“Kat hates me.”
Will waited for him to elaborate. When he only continued to stare sullenly into his beer, Will shook his head.
“All right, but we already knew that. How does that make you a fuck-up?”
Finn covered his face and mumbled into his palm. “Because her boyfriend kissed me.”
That was, quite possibly, the last thing he’d expected Finn to say. Will tilted his head and squinted a bit to try and make out Finn’s expression behind his fingers.
“Did you just say …”
“Yes.” Finn rubbed his palm down his face and gave Will a look that was decidedly bleak. “Her boyfriend kissed me. I sort of wondered if maybe he was curious because this one time, he kept staring at me, but I convinced myself it was just because he knew I wanted his girlfriend. But last night, he—”
“This happened last night, and you didn’t tell me?”
“I’m telling you now. Let me finish.”
Will waved for him to continue. He definitely needed to hear how this happened.
“I was out barhopping with the other guys—”
“On a Tuesday night?”
“Are you going to let me finish?”
“Sorry, sorry. Carry on.”
“Anyway, we ran into Seth—that’s Kat’s boyfriend—at the fourth bar. I was already kind of drunk, and Andy was giving me shit about wanting a girl who hated my guts so I was a little pissed too. So Seth sees us, and he comes over and starts talking to me like we’re friends or something. And then he asks to talk to me in private, and I think ‘sure, why the hell not,’ so I follow him back toward the bathrooms and—” He covered his face again.
“And he kissed you.” Since when did college become a soap opera?
Finn nodded miserably. “And I might have kissed back.”
Will didn’t even know how to respond to that. Other than to ask, “Why?”
“Because I’m an idiot!” he shouted. Several people nearby, including the bartender, glanced over. “I thought … I thought maybe that was it, you know? Maybe kissing him was the closest I would ever get to kissing Kat, and since she hated me anyway, why the hell shouldn’t I kiss him back? He started it.”
“You do realize that’s a shit excuse?”
“I know. What an asshole. I can’t believe he’d do that her. I can’t believe I’d do that to her.”
> Because there was nothing adequate to say, Will asked, “So what are you going to do?”
Finn’s lips tightened. He lifted his mug and chugged down the rest of his beer. When he was finished, he gave Will a grim look that just didn’t look right on someone as laid back as he was.
“I told Kat today at rehearsals.”
That was twice now Finn had managed to surprise him. He floundered a bit before saying, “I guess … that was good of you?”
“She said that must be why her boyfriend dumped her this morning. Then she called me something I needed to google to find the definition for and ran out before rehearsals were done.”
Will could do nothing but order another pitcher of beer. And he thought he had it bad.
“Sorry, man. First I fuck it up for you with your sex therapy girl, and now I’ve fucked it up with Kat.”
Will finished his mug and then refilled it. “I’m pretty sure I can, and will, screw myself over with my girl on my own. Look, Finn, I know you really like Kat, but I think it’s time to let it go.”
“I know,” he muttered. He was doing a bang up job of sulking. “I keep telling myself that.”
“She wasn’t—”
“Hey there.”
This time, the interruption came from a tall brunette. As Finn mumbled something to the effect of “This is why I can’t take you anywhere,” the brunette held up her empty mug. With a nod at their pitcher, she gave Will a slow smile that wasn’t difficult to interpret.
“Can I join you?”
Finn leaned forward in his seat until Will thought he would fall off. But instead of falling, he braced his hands against Will’s shoulders and said blearily, “I hate you.”
Chapter Fifteen
She had yet to even look at Will, despite that he had taken the seat right next to her. She stared stonily ahead, apparently determined to pay attention to today’s session. Will had no such aspirations, despite that he had specific instructions from his boss to send detailed notes tomorrow about the effectiveness of the counselor’s repeated methods. Instead, he studied her profile and the way she pressed her lips together when one of the other members said something particularly unusual.
The counselor was making them talk about their long-term personal goals. Not what they wanted out of life, but what they wanted romantically. After the old woman’s turn, the counselor clarified by saying, “‘Sleeping my way through life’ is not an acceptable answer.”
The old woman had used a different word, but the message was clear.
“I’m halfway through my bucket list,” said the woman with a head of dark brown curls and an impressive collection of corsets. She’d worn a different one to every session since Will began coming. Today, she wore a red brocade corset with black lace along the top. It didn’t do much to cover her cleavage.
The counselor looked hopeful. “Fantastic! Care to share which items on your bucket list you’ve accomplished?”
“Having sex in a train, sex on a boat, sex in a plane, in a bathroom, a restaurant—”
The counselor spluttered before putting up a hand to stop her. “That’s your bucket list? A checklist of all the places you want to …” He released a long-suffering breath and rubbed his temple.
Will was beginning to suspect the addicts enjoyed flustering the poor counselor and testing his unending patience. Probably another reason why the therapy didn’t appear to be working for any of them.
The woman smiled and batted too-long-probably-fake lashes at Will. “Sex with a Scottish man is still on the list.” She leaned forward until Will felt certain she would spill out of her corset. “Think about it, Braveheart.”
‘Nothing to think about,’ he wanted to say but didn’t. Instead he settled his gaze on something far more pleasant—his nameless beauty, who was now scowling so hard at the busty woman that it was a miracle hellfire hadn’t risen up to consume her.
Will smothered a smile. Being this close to her and having to pretend that he didn’t feel anything was an exercise in self-control. Every time she shifted, even if it was just to fold her hands in her lap, the movement drew his attention. He wanted to reach out and brush her hair over her shoulder. To trail his fingers down her cheekbone, her jaw, her neck. He wanted to see her smile at him with something that wasn’t tainted with distrust.
Most of all, he wanted to learn her name. Knowing part of her past was great, but now he wanted to know her present. He wanted her to stop being a question so he could start working on how to be her answer.
And if anyone ever found out he’d thought those words, he would probably be laughed out of America.
“Please do not proposition each other during meetings,” the counselor said, sounding weary. “Or outside of them either.”
The busty woman waved her hand in the air like she was chasing away a bad odor. “Of course, all that was before,” she said unconvincingly. “Now all I’d like is to find love. And have sex with that one person. Everywhere.”
“Okay then,” the counselor said. “Thank you for, um, being honest.” He nodded to the guy in a dirty, beaten down Packers cap who looked like your average creeper.
The creeper shrugged his shoulders beneath his oversized, brown leather jacket. “I don’t have a plan. My wife is leaving me.”
The counselor’s expression immediately transformed into pained sympathy. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”
The creeper gave a loud snort, startling the counselor. Will gave him a curious look, and even his grumpy beauty frowned at him.
“Why? I’m not sorry. I’ve been trying to get her to leave for years!” His entire body shook with hysterical laughter.
The counselor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. No one else said anything as the creeper slapped his thigh and wiped tears from his eyes. It took another several seconds for him to calm himself down, but he was still grinning from ear to ear, looking less like a creepy pervert and more like a creepy psycho. Will took a few mental notes on his body language.
The creeper was obviously suppressing some serious issues with his soon-to-be ex-wife, and the sex addiction had likely formed as a means to deal with it. Will was fairly certain he wasn’t nearly as happy about his wife leaving him as he pretended to be.
“Still,” the counselor said, voice soft, “the separation of two people who’d promised each other forever is something to be mourned.”
No one said anything for a few seconds. Will looked at his grumpy beauty again and was surprised to find her watching him. She had a contemplative look in her hazel eyes. When he offered her a small smile, her gaze dropped to his mouth. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and looked away.
Someone coughed. Will looked up to find everyone but her staring at him.
The counselor gave him a disapproving frown before saying, “It’s your turn. Would you like to share with us your long-term personal goals?”
Not particularly.
“Well,” he began. In spite of what he’d heard today from everyone, and in spite of his own childhood, what he wanted was fairly standard, if only because it had never been standard for him. “I’d like to marry someday. Maybe buy a house and have children. I think it’d be worth trying.”
“That sounds wonderful,” the counselor said, sounding relieved that someone finally wanted something he considered normal and healthy. “I know couples who’ve been together fifty years and counting. It can certainly be done successfully.”
“Just don’t marry for love,” the creeper said.
Will looked at him. “You don’t believe love lasts?”
“I know it.”
Having never been in love, Will couldn’t say definitively either way. But he liked to think it was possible. The counselor gave the creeper a melancholy look. How did he always look so … genuine?
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” the counselor said. “But love finds you even in the most unlikely of times. It may happen again for you.”
The creeper gave a sharp bark
of laughter. “God, I hope not.”
Ignoring him, the counselor returned his attention to Will. “Will you be settling here in America, or are you planning to return to Scotland?”
At the question, the girl beside Will finally looked at him—a quick glance that gave nothing away of her thoughts.
“Just to visit,” he said. “I miss it, but I doubt I’d want to live there again.”
The counselor nodded. His smile looked wistful. “I’d love to hear about your country some time if you’re willing to share.”
“Of course.” Oftentimes, people asked him questions with preconceived notions about Scotland, usually formed through television and movies. Like if everyone wore kilts. Or if he knew how to play the bagpipes. Or, if they were trying to be funny, if he’d ever seen a leprechaun. (No, he hadn’t, and by the way, leprechauns were Irish.)
The counselor glanced at the clock on the wall before directing his smile at Will’s pale-haired mystery girl. “Would you like to finish us off?”
The busty woman’s lips stretched into a gleeful smile, and the creeper snickered loudly. The old woman snorted, but it was hard to tell if the sound had come from her since he couldn’t see her face beneath the brim of her hat. Even Will couldn’t help the mental images that arose at the counselor’s innocent question. It helped that he could flavor those images with real memories.
His grumpy beauty didn’t react to the counselor’s words other than with an unimpressed tilt of her brow.
When the counselor realized what he’d said, he turned a pale shade of pink. “Let me rephrase. Would you like to complete today’s session by sharing with us your goals?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” she said, which made the counselor blink at her. “But since I’m torturing myself by being here, I suppose I might as well. I want …” She hesitated.
Will focused on her lips, his breath held in anticipation.
“I want to be happy,” she said quietly, not looking anywhere but down at her hands folded in her lap. She sounded irritated by her own words. “Whatever that means. I’m not sure what’ll make me happy, whether it’s a marriage with kids or an open relationship with a circus troupe.”
Heat Up the Fall: New Adult Boxed Set (6 Book Bundle) Page 30