teacher at school encouraged him.
“She said she loved my writing, and that I had a gift, and she told me I should put it to good use.”
“You loved to read?” I ask him.
“More than most boys. I would get lost in books. It was the perfect escape.”
“And what did you write about?”
“Anything. High school essays and stuff, I did well at them. I found that I could express myself through my words and having someone believe in me was such a revelation.”
He’s lying on the bed, and I’m propped up against the headrest. We’re fully clothed, and I have his head on my lap. Staring down at him it’s so clear to see how much he has changed. The mountain-man beard went a long time ago. Today he has four-day growth, and I prefer him like this. I skim my hand over his jaw, stroking his almost-beard as if it’s a much loved pet. He’s shirtless, of course, wearing only sweatpants, so I get to run my hands over his muscles and his hard, toned body.
“She believed in you because she could see how gifted you were,” I say, stroking the side of his face.
“Having someone believe in you makes a world of difference.” His brows push together. He’s thinking, and I know better than to ask him what he’s thinking of. With Ward, I’ve learned that he will tell me when he’s good and ready. It’s impossible to pry stuff out of him. He’ll tell me when he’s good and ready.
He’s been talking about his New Orleans home and says he wants me to come back with him for a week or so while Rob looks over the book. He says he often needs a break when he’s done with the first draft of a book because it’s so intense and he needs to switch off completely. Usually he would go away, out of state somewhere because he needs to unwind. This surprises me because after all his talk of being a recluse and wanting to stay at home, I never assumed that someone like Ward would want to travel much. But he assures me he does. Only now that he’s been here in Chicago, he wants to go home for a break. His plans have changed, and I don’t know how much I’ve influenced them. For all his talk of leaving here, he now has plans to come back and do the edits.
It means I get to work for him for a little while longer.
One day Ward is busy in the study re-writing his crucial end scene. He woke up early and told me he still wanted to do the workout with Jamie but he had to write the new ending first and he didn’t know how long it would take.
When Jamie turns up, I tell him that Ward is busy and asked if he could wait around for thirty minutes or so because Ward doesn’t want to miss his session. I joke with him about how much Ward has changed but he doesn’t laugh. Instead he stares at his watch in annoyance. “He wants me to wait here?”
This wouldn’t be a problem. It would mean more time for me and Jamie to talk, but we’ve not been all that friendly since the day I answered the door wearing Ward’s robe. Our relationship seems to have stalled and sputtered just as mine and Ward’s has blossomed.
It doesn’t stop me from trying to make amends. “Have a cup of coffee,” I say, with more optimism than I feel. When he starts to follow me, I go over to the coffee machine and pour him a cup. “Ward loves his workouts so much now. You’ve obviously had a good effect on him.”
“Not as much as you.”
I twist my mouth, thinking of something to say. I can no longer deny that anything has happened. It’s too late for that.
“Why are you still so angry with me?”
At first, he looks so choked up that he can’t speak. “What is it?” I ask, alarmed and worried that there’s something bothering him that I don’t know about. I move towards him and touch his elbow. “Jamie?” I wonder if there is something else, something I’ve missed. I’ve been thinking he’s annoyed at me, but maybe it’s something else entirely.
“You,” he hisses. “You can’t help yourself.”
It is me and I don’t even know how to answer to that. He’s so red in the face that he’s starting to scare me.
“This is Ward Maddox. I thought