“I…” She glanced at the clock above the exam room door, and her shoulders sagged. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”
Marco told her where to find the scrubs, and she pushed her way through the swinging doors again to find them, leaving the two men behind.
Wes watched her go, frowning, some weird, creeping sense of unease filling him.
“Did she look familiar to you?” Wes asked his brother.
“No. Why?”
Wes shook his head. “I’ve got the strangest sense that I’ve met her before.”
“Is that why you were staring at her like she held the answers to the universe?”
He turned to Marco. “What?”
His brother smirked. “You were about to go into full Wes Garrett charm-the-lady mode. I’d almost forgotten what that looked like.” He switched out whatever tool he was using for something else. “Good to see that side of you still exists, but I’m glad you didn’t go there. Not the time or place. She doesn’t need some guy hitting on her tonight.”
Wes scowled. “I wasn’t going to hit on her. I just thought I recognized her.”
“Uh-huh,” his brother said. “You were trying to recognize her really hard. She’s probably just someone you’ve served in a restaurant once upon a time or something.”
Wes blew out a breath. “Yeah, probably.”
Marco frowned down at the dog like he didn’t like what he saw. “Just get her home safely. She’s had one hell of a night.”
“Right.”
“And Wes?” his brother said, looking up.
Wes ran a hand over the back of his head, knowing what was coming. “Get it off your chest, man. I can feel the lecture coming.”
A sympathetic look crossed Marco’s face. “No lecture. Just…don’t torture yourself.”
“I—”
“Walking in the neighborhood where your restaurant used to be will never lead to anything good. You have to let it go, man. All of that old life. Looking back is a trap. You’ll fall into a manhole or crash into a wall you never saw coming. Enjoy what you have now.”
Wes ground his teeth as cold, sick grief clawed at his insides.
Enjoy what he had now.
A life he didn’t ask for.
A job he’d fallen into.
A destroyed marriage.
And not a drop to drink forever and ever, amen.
“Yep, Marco. You’re right. I’m living the dream.”
Marco frowned, but Wes was done. He didn’t want to hear it. Don’t look back. Move forward. But what if every stride felt like one on an endless treadmill where one misstep would send him flying backward onto his ass?
&
nbsp; His legs were getting damn tired.
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