Page 56 of Can’t Say No

My GPS directs me to a trailer park fifteen minutes outside town. I quickly spot Wells’ truck outside of a well-maintained single-wide. The same can’t be said for the inside. Empty bottles litter the counters, piles of garbage accumulate in the corners, and there’s paraphernalia scattered around that I know better than to look too close at.

Wells greets me with a tight grimace. “Sorry. Didn’t know who else to call. She doesn’t have insurance, or else I’d have called an ambulance.”

His mom is, in fact, belligerent. And stronger than I’d expected.

The two of us half-drag, half-carry her out the door, sidestepping the damning evidence of her condition. The roads into town are empty this early in the morning, and we make it to the hospital with only one stop for his mom to puke out the door.

Wells pulls up to the ER entrance with the eerie calm of someone who has done this before. We maneuver her into a waiting wheelchair with all the grace of a bull in a china shop.

The waiting room is nearly empty, and that’s somehow more unsettling than an overflowing emergency room.

“Second time this month?” a white haired nurse says to Wells.

He simply grunts and hands the wheelchair over. His mom suddenly turns a startling shade of green that prompts the nurse to make quick work of rolling her down the hall.

“I’ll send the doc out once he’s looked her over,” the nurse calls over her shoulders, before flashing a tired smile over her shoulder as the double doors close.

The adrenaline of the middle-of-the-night wakeup call finally fizzles out, leaving a wave of exhaustion.

Wells must feel the same because he wordlessly motions me towards the coffee maker in the corner of the room.

“Been like this since I was a kid,” he says after we’ve both taken a few grounding sips of the mediocre coffee. “People like to tell me it’s a miracle she’s still alive. But this,” Wells takes a long sip, “This doesn’t feel too miraculous to me.”

“I’m sorry,” I say simply, which feels too small for the magnitude of the situation.

“Thanks.”

We settle into the hard plastic chairs, draining our cups to avoid risking any more earth-shattering revelations.

Wells breaks the silence exactly seventeen minutes later.

“What’s going on with you and Delaney?”

“You know what’s going on with us.” I shrug. “Pretending to date so she gets good press.”

Wells nods. “Right. Let me rephrase. How are you feeling about what’s going on with you and Delaney?”

I drag a hand over my face. “Fuck, dude. Didn’t realize I’d be going to a therapy session before six in the morning today.”

He shrugs. “We all outta be starting our days with a little self-reflection.”

I let out a breath. “I’m feeling in over my head. Seeing her on that trip last week…” I shake my head. “She was good with the kids, she was happy. And we, I don’t know.” I pause, searching for the words to explain the constant push and pull between us. “We shouldn’t work, but I swear we do. We can. We would.”

This elicits another slow nod from Wells.

“What are you doing to make her see that?”

“I… I think she does.” I lean back in my chair. “We went swimming out at Crescent Lake. Well… skinny-dipping.”

Wells arches a brow at that but lets me continue.

“It wasn’t like that. We just had fun being together. And I swear she feels the same way that I do. The connection is there man. It’s real.”

“Well, yeah, things usually feel electric when you don’t have any clothes on.” Wells scoffs, like he can’t believe he has to explain something so simple. “But have you talked to her? Like really talked to her?” He asks. “When neither of you is naked?”

I open my mouth to defend myself, even though Wells is obviously right, when someone clears their throat nearby.

“As much as I’d love to hear this one through, I need to interrupt. Which one of you is Mrs. Asbury’s son?”