Looking back, Will was glad he hadn't known what to expect when his dad came home from the hospital. His father was as unpleasant as the rear-view of his hospital gown as they packed up his stuff and waited for his discharge papers. Still, it was hard to blame him for being irritable. His brow sweated just walking across the room and he grimaced as the discharge nurse listed all the ways his life would need to change.Will and his mom tried their best to create a comfortable space for him, setting up the spare room to prevent Will's mom from rolling into him at night. They bit their tongues as he snapped and snarled. They even borrowed a baby monitor from a neighbor to make sure they could hear his requests from almost anywhere in the house. While less annoying than a bell, the monitor caught and amplified the choice words he uttered when they pissed him off taking too long to make toast, bring up a glass of water, or select an obscure text from his vast collection of thumb-worn books.
A few times, Will hid away in his room, stuffing his earphones in as deep as they could go and cranking his playlist to as loud as he could stand to drown out the sound of his dad's bellow. Still, every morning, he caught a glimpse of his father's 2, shining a little bit brighter than the day before, and it didn't matter how many times he yelped 'goddammit' or how often he forced Will to run downstairs for another volume of Psychology Today.
Between work and helping juggle the infant stages of his dad's recovery, Will pretty much fell off the friend map. On top of everything else, there were so many post-surgery meds to keep track of – some with food, some without, some to take together, some to space apart – that it required both him and his mom to manage his dad's needs. Will's mom made a giant chart on the whiteboard in the kitchen to keep the schedule going around the clock. She didn't sleep much. No matter what time Will padded into the kitchen, she was already up, thin hands wrapped around a warm teacup. He noticed her 2 beginning to dull softly around its edges, so he didn't feel right leaving her to hang out with Josh or catch up with Skye.
Skye. Will thought about her a lot: while he was working, while he was at his father's beck and call, while he helped his mom clear the table, while he lay in bed at night. Thanks to an unexpected text, he found out she'd been thinking of him, too.
Skye: Hey Will, Josh gave me your number. Wanted to see how things are with your dad. Seems like you've disappeared. Hope you're ok.
His stomach flipped over as he read her words; she'd added an emoji blowing a kiss to the end of her note. Josh had earned an all-time high score on the scale of one to bro-dom for giving her his cell number; he'd have to buy him an extra-large Slushie for it. Will didn't want to read too much into a kissing smiley face, so he thought for a second before writing back.
Will: Hi Skye, Dad's okay, thanks for asking. It's been hard to get him settled. I'm glad you reached out. I've been thinking of you too.
Crap. He'd been flipping through emoji's trying to pick one that was funny and flirty at the same time when his finger slipped and he sent her an emoji doing the primal scream by mistake.
His cheeks grew hot as he quickly sent a follow-up text.
Will: Um Emoji fail
Skye: LOLOLOL. Nice. By the way, my mom thinks you're cute
Will: Bridget & I go way back. Plus, she makes a great apple pie.
Skye: That she does. Getting late gotta go. See you soon?
Will: What about Saturday? He held his breath and pressed send.
Skye: It's a date. Text me details Friday.
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YOU ARE READING
However Long the Night
General FictionHe predicts death. She lives on the brink. Can he save her before it's too late? With one look, Will Brody knows how long you have left to live. Unfortunately, Will's ability to predict the future is limited. He can tell when someone's time is up...