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“Breathe, Will. I’m not going to jump your bones every time we’re alone together,” Charlie said with a low chuckle as they headed across town.
“I’m not worried about that,” Will muttered, folding his arms tightly across his chest and glaring out the windshield.
Charlie laughed harder as he pressed the brake for the red light in front of them. “Really? So, how long have you been this jumpy? Is it an Argentina thing? Or has it been around longer than that?”
“I’m not jumpy, and even if I was, it would be because someone chased me and shot at me last night. It’s got nothing to do with you.” Will stopped and replayed both his words and tone in his head. Even if he was right, he sounded like a fucking lunatic.
“Mmhm,” Charlie hummed, and Will started to contemplate murder for the first time in his life. Charlie didn’t believe him. Not that Will could blame him.
“Do you like doing this?” Will asked suddenly. It was better to change the subject entirely. He didn’t want to discuss why he might be jumpy.
“What?”
“Being a mercenary. It sounded like you’ve been doing it for a few years, and the stories the other guys told were crazy. Do you like doing it?”
Will had expected Charlie to immediately gush about how much he loved the excitement, travel, or insane adventures he’d gone on with his best friends. Instead, the man beside him tightened his hands on the steering wheel while a strange, tense expression filled his face. It was as if he were torn over what to say in response to that question.
A weary sigh slipped from between Will’s lips and he leaned his elbow against his door. “It’s okay, Charlie. You can admit to being happy while we’ve been apart. I get it. We didn’t work out. That’s life. And maybe I’m still a little bitter about it, but that’s my problem, not yours. I want you to be happy, to enjoy things in life. What’s the point of separating if you’ve been miserable the past six years? You’re not the kind of guy to waste time. Neither am I.”
“Then yeah, I’ve been happy. I’ve had fun,” Charlie admitted slowly. “It’s been good. It took us all a while to get over what happened with the Company. We did some stupid, reckless shit for a bit, but we managed to pull our heads out of our asses eventually.”
Will groaned and covered his face with one hand. “Do I even want to know how many times you’ve been shot or stabbed because you had your head in your ass?”
Charlie’s low rumble of laughter was like a hug that soothed ragged nerves. “Probably not. But I’ve got a few scars from those moments of poor judgment. You want to kiss them and make them better?”
“No,” Will grumbled.
A large, warm hand came to rest on his left thigh. Charlie squeezed, sending a rush of butterflies into flight in his stomach. How could this man still make him feel this way after all this time? It wasn’t fair.
“Don’t worry. We’ve all gotten smarter with age. We’re being shot, stabbed, and blown up a whole lot less than we used to.”
“You’re not helping your case,” Will stated, but it was with a smirk.
It was only when they arrived at the hospice center twenty minutes later that he even realized Charlie had left his hand on his leg nearly the entire car ride. After all this time, it shouldn’t feel so natural, and he needed to put some boundaries in place between them.
Charlie followed him wordlessly into the neat and clean two-story, white stone building. The interior was decorated in soft pastels and had the hushed atmosphere of a church or a library. Will warmly greeted the nurses that he passed along the way to the reception area.
“Dr. Monroe, it’s good to see you,” Olivia said as he stepped up to the desk. The receptionist always had a warm smile for him as she handed over the sign-in sheet. She then rose to fetch the file for his patient.
“It’s good to see you, too, Señora. How’s Señor Garcia doing?” he asked as he placed his name on the next available line along with who he was visiting. Doctors as well as guests all signed in as a precaution to protect the hospice’s inhabitants.
“Oh, you know, complaining about the cold and his arthritis. Nothing out of the ordinary,” Olivia said with a smile.
“Has he seen a doctor?”
She rolled her eyes at him as she returned to the counter and handed over the patient file. “Don’t worry about him. He prefers home herbal remedies for his arthritis.” As she spoke, she pinched her thumb and forefinger together and brought them to her lips, mimicking smoking a joint.
Charlie choked on a laugh and Will grinned at her. “Yes, I’ve heard that can be very helpful.” He looked over at Charlie. “You’ll need to sign in as well if you’re going to follow me past the reception area.”
