Whit’s a bit strange. He speaks monotone for the most part, and he’s never been very good with eye contact. At least he hasn’t with me, but right now, he’s acting even weirder than usual. He hasn’t looked me in the eye even once since I walked in, and now, as he scurries back behind the counter to check us in, he’s fidgety. He’s chewing on his bottom lip as his fingers tap on the keyboard, and there’s a line of perspiration shining above his brow, just above the rim of his glasses.
“Are you alright, Whit?” I ask, my brows knit together. The vein in his neck throbs as he continues to type on his computer.
“Yes, of course,” he squeaks. “Why do you ask?”
“You seem a bit jumpy.”
“Nope, I’m totally fine, Dr. Andino. Thank you for asking.” Reaching out of sight, he comes back with a clipboard that he attaches a stack of papers to. Setting it in front of me with a pen, he says, “Please fill everything out, front and back. Anything you don’t know the answer to, just leave blank.” Still not looking me in the eye, he adds, “I can take Winnie now, and get her situated in the back while you get to work on that.”
Handing Winnie over, I take the forms and have a seat in one of the chairs. The forms ask entirely too many questions that I don’t know the answer to, considering we only got the dog several days ago. After about fifteen minutes, I finish filling them out to the best of my ability. Back at the counter, I wait a few moments to see if Whit comes back. When he doesn’t, Iring the little bell located off to the side.
“All done?” he asks, his voice much higher than it normally is.
“Yes. My dad will be by in an hour or so to pick her up.”
He nods, taking the papers from me. “Very well, that sounds good.”
“Whit, what’s the matter?” I ask again, the words coming out harsher than I intend. “Is something wrong with the dog?”
“What?” Finally, his eyes snap up to meet mine. “No! I haven’t examined her yet, but she seems fine from the outside.”
“Then why are you behaving so odd?”
Glancing around the office like somebody is going to come save him, or maybe making sure nobody is in earshot, Whit heaves a sigh, meeting my gaze, but only for a moment. His cheeks are bright pink, and he looks severely uncomfortable. “I know,” is all he says quietly, sounding dejected.
I stare at him for a moment, expecting him to keep going, my brows furrowing when I realize he’s not. “You know…what?”Is he on drugs? I’ve never seen him act like this.
He levels me with alook, his face crimson, and suddenly, it hits me what he means by that.He knows about me and Colt.
Clearing my throat, I force myself to not outwardly react while my heart pounds more powerfully. “I see.” My jaw clenches. “Well, if that’ll be all, I really better be getting?—"
“I’m sorry,” he cuts me off. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I wasn’t exactly expecting to come face to face with you this morning.”
“Whit, it’s fine,” I grit out. “But I would appreciate it if you could keep that to yourself. It’s something that shouldn’t have happened, and it was a long time ago.”
Nodding a little harder than necessary, making his glasses slide down his nose, he rushes out, “Of course, Dr. Andino. Iwould never tell anybody something like that.”
“Will, please,” I add. “And thank you. Again, my father will be by shortly to pick her up.”
“Yes, sir. Have a nice day.”
Grunting out a clipped “you too,” I hightail it out of the office and into my car, locking the door as soon as my ass is planted in the driver’s seat, like maybe the locked door will erase what Whit knows.
Why the hell would Colt tell him?
Thiscannotget out.
Jesus Christ.I should’ve known this would happen.
What the hell am I going to do? Do I trust that Whit won’t open his mouth and tell anybody? I sure hope so.
As my mind rolls through every possible thing that could go wrong if people find out, nausea churns in my gut. It never should’ve happened in the first place.
What the hell was I thinking?It’s a question I’ve asked myself more times than I can count, and I never can figure it out. And what’s worse, is now that I’m back in town, I can’t stop myself from replaying the night in my head over and over and fucking over again.
“Fuck!”
11
