Ties

Chapter Three

With my arm draped over the shoulders of Alice's petite frame, I push through the revolving doors, steering us into the cold, white-tiled, uninviting emergency department. I attempt to be some sort of comfort to her, pulling her into me. She's loved me the way a mother would since I was a kid, and I feel the same about her. But she's not my mother.

I'm annoyed that she hung in there with my father through all his bullshit, through years of cheating and treating women—well, specifically one woman—like trash. But now isn't the time to bring the shit up. She's obviously upset.

Here's the deal. I'm not the commitment type. I say exactly what I want and how things are going to be. I'm not living some double life, pretending, for society's sake, to be a faithful husband and a doting father when I'm out on the side fucking the rest of the world.

Everyone fell for his shit, his charm, and how he portrayed a perfect existence. You can't live two different ways. Those reasons are precisely why I've chosen to stay single. I like what I like, and I don't need to be something I'm not. Fewer people get hurt that way.

At this moment in particular, I'm spent. Between the botched threesome, the quickie, and the drive, I've been up for close to twenty-four hours. I'm fucking tired.

The nurse behind the desk greets us with pitying eyes and a sympathetic frown. One of those typical looks you receive when someone doesn't know what to say to you. She can save the sadness.

"What do I need to sign?" I ask, aware of my irritated tone. If I didn't care before, why should I act like I do now? I hate when people go years not speaking to a person only to be regretful after they're gone.

I'm not doing that. He doesn't deserve that from me.

"Charlie," Alice pleads, turning in front of me. Her thin brows draw in, nostrils quivering, blue eyes searching for something, any type of reaction. "Please don't be so cold." She squeezes my arm, releasing immediately when my muscles tense—she knows my temper's short.

With the heel of my palm pressing to my forehead, I try to ignore the mixture of metallic and bleach that makes me want to vomit, and take a deep breath. With a sigh, I lower my head to hers.

"Don't call me that." I grit my teeth. She should know better.

In an abrupt move, I smack my palm against the desk, causing the young nurse to jump. Her eyes ping open after flinching at the sound, and likely my blunt nature.

"Sorry"—glancing at her name tag—"Hallie, is it?" I turn on the charm, winking at her. As predicted, this results in her cheeks flushing a deep red, fingers fumbling over paperwork. "What do I need to do so we can finish this up?"

A few signed papers later, Hallie gives me a white plastic bag containing William's belongings. I pass it off to Alice without a second look. What I don't pass off is leaning in ridiculously close to the nurse, thanking her for her help, and laughing to myself as I watch goosebumps extend across her bare forearms.