“Fine. I didn’t say the actual words, but we’re beyond words.”
Simon did not look impressed by this. Plus it was a lie. She and Ryan hadn’t been beyond words. She loved his words. She just hadn’t been able to give them back to him because, again, she was a big chickenshit.
“In my experience, most people actually need the words, Ali.”
“Alison,” she corrected. “‘Ali’ was the bitchy mean girl from our growing-up years. I’m trying to evolve.” She sighed. “Trying being the operative word, anyway.”
“Look at that, you can use your words.” He toasted her with a french fry. “See how easy that was?”
“Ha ha.” Alison finished her wine. “Do you want another?” She tipped her glass toward his empty beer.
“Can’t. Dad had a bad day and I have to get back.”
She really felt for Simon. He’d literally given up his life to take care of his dad, and it wasn’t as if Simon had had it easy before Uncle Dale’s strokes either. Yes, she’d had a shitty childhood, but Simon? His mom had died after a long, drawn-out battle with cancer when he’d been a freshman in high school, catapulting him into adulthood far before he should’ve been. It was a miracle he’d made it through and kept his easygoing temperament and that way about him that inspired trust and loyalty. He was everything to a lot of people, including her, and he deserved far better.
“I’m sorry.” She put her hand over his. “This is his third bad day in a row.”
“Actually, it’s been more like a week since his last good day.”
Alison could see how tired Simon looked and felt sick for him, but also mad at herself for not seeing it. She’d been too wrapped up in her own world and breakup with Ryan, which made her selfish. Maybe she should let him call her Ali after all.
Or . . . you could stop your behavior, swallow the fear, grow up, and turn over a new leaf right now.
She drew a deep breath. “I’m coming over after work tomorrow anyway. I’ll bring dinner.”
“Thanks. But whatever you do, don’t turn on the news.”
“Why?”
“Because every time you come over, you two start arguing about politics. You get him all riled up, and then he keeps me awake until three in the morning yelling about millennials destroying the world, and I’ve got an early PT patient the morning after.”
“I thought you were only doing PT two half days a week now.”
“It’s fine. I’ve got a few patients who still need to see me at least two times a week. I can’t just cut them loose without jeopardizing their recovery.”
“Give them to Kelly.”
“I’ve got it all under control,” Simon said.
Control being the operative word. Simon liked his control. “Hmm. Is this early patient the woman you refuse to talk about?”
Instead of answering, he pulled out his wallet, and she found a laugh on this shitastic day. “Okay, so that’s a yes. She must be cute. What’s her name?”
“I don’t date patients,” he said. “It’s unethical.”
“It’s not like you’re a counselor or a doctor, Simon. You . . . limber people up.” She smiled to let him know she was teasing. He worked his ass off and she knew exactly how hard and demanding his work was.
He gave a slow shake of his head and let out a reluctant smile. “You’re a nut.”
“And you’re deflecting. Means she must be much more than just cute.”
He stood and tossed down enough money to cover the tab and a tip. Louise wouldn’t charge them, but Simon insisted on paying anyway. “I don’t have the bandwidth for this conversation. Need a ride?”
“No thanks.” And as she watched him go, hands shoved in his pockets, broad shoulders set like maybe they carried the weight of the world, she wondered for the first time if their way of adulting—which for Alison was to never be dependent on others again, and for Simon was to keep his promise to his dead mom to take care of his dad no matter what—was shortsighted.
Because surely there was more to life than just trying to survive it. But if there was a better route, she had no idea how to get on it.
Chapter 4
Step 4: Put yourself out there.
Simon jerked awake when someone hit the wall switch and his room lit up like day. “What the—”
“I made food.”
His dad’s stroke-thickened voice could sometimes be hard to understand, but not for Simon. He sat up to find the man standing in the doorway wearing . . . Hell. Nothing. “Dad—”
His dad waved a piece of bread triumphantly. “Toast!”
Simon swiped a hand down his face. “Where are your pants?”
His father shrugged.
It was still dark outside. Simon glanced at the clock. Four. In the morning. “It’s not even light outside yet.”
“Which is why you’re still not rich.”
Oh, good. The age-old argument about how Simon was a slacker. He only worked Armstrong Properties, PT shifts, and took care of his dad, but he refused to get drawn into an argument, at least not before caffeine. “Okay, tell you what. You find some pants and I’ll make breakfast.”
“Already made it.” His dad waved the piece of bread again, bread that was most definitely not toasted. “Took out the trash too. I’m no slacker.”
His dad had pulled himself out of the gutter by his bootstraps, and as a result, he tended to push Simon hard. Not that it mattered now since his dad didn’t seem to remember the tough, impenetrable man he’d been prestroke.
Simon asked, “How did you get outside? I set an alarm on the doors.”
“I unset them.”
Jesus. “You do remember you’re no longer allowed to take out the trash, right?”
“And you weren’t allowed to be an idiot when you were a teen. Didn’t stop you.”
True story.
“And that’s a stupid rule anyway, about the trash.” His dad shifted his weight, a little guiltily. “It’s not my fault that the last time I took it out, I scared a raccoon and it ran across the lawn and into the building next door, where the demented thing demo’d the entryway.”
“That’s not what got you into trouble. You weren’t wearing pants that night either. Someone called the cops and said there was a vagrant disturbing the peace. You got a ticket for indecent exposure.”
“Bah. People are too sensitive. Can’t even live my life in my own home.”
There was no arguing with the man, so Simon got out of bed. “I’ll make us breakfast. Clothes, Dad.”
“You’re not wearing anything.”
Simon bent for the jeans he’d left on the floor and pulled them up. “There. Now you.”
“I don’t like pants.”
“No one likes pants. They’re just one of life’s fun burdens.” Simon headed toward the bathroom. “I’m going to shower real quick, then I’ll feed you. And then since I’m up, I may as well get some paperwork done. Ed’s your nurse today.”
His dad went hands on hips. “Ed’s mean.”