Page 26 of Plentywood
Forgetting his eyes and the damage they did to my heart function, I glared at him, now studying them for any signs of humanity. “A year? One single year, and then you’re bailing on us?”
“I’m notbailing, sheriff,” he stated flatly, returning my glare with his own fury. “I’m doing this town a favor by being here for that year. I had many other options other than Montana. Trust me on that.”
“Oh, I imagine you did.”
“What does that mean?” he snarled, losing his well-put-together demeanor for just a second. He didn’t like losing his composure. I could clearly see it in his body language.
“I imagine you see yourself in a large city,” I began, scooting forward in my chair and leaning toward him. He recoiled and leaned back. “Doubtless a fancier place where the local population isn’t a bunch of country hicks. Is that your sorta place,Doctor?”
“I don’t owe this town, or you, an explanation,sheriff,” he fired back, snottily emphasizing my title like I’d done to his.
“Why? Because you’d have to be a decent human being?”
I had clearly lost my shit. He had touched a nerve and now I wanted him to feel my wrath. How dare he be handsome? How dare he come to my town and get my goddamned hopes up? And fuck those green eyes.
Our town’s new doctor stood and looked me dead in the eyes. “Don’t judge me, sheriff. It seems like you have enough of your own baggage to deal with.” He turned to walk away but stopped and turned back, moving closer to the edge of the table, leaning over me. “Tough men like you are all the same, Copeland. Stupid as fuck, and not worth the effort of giving a shit about them.”
And with that, he stormed out of the diner. Agnes and Jill, who had been eavesdropping and staring, came dashing out of the kitchen, Agnes bee-lining for the front door, Jill heading for me.
“What did you do?” she hissed, before moving toward the diner’s windows and watching as the doctor got in his Mercedes.
Agnes decided to exchange places with her and walked toward me, her face as cold as dead flesh, eyes round in angry question. She leaned into me and grabbed me by the earlobe. “You dumb fuck,” she hissed. “I’m trying to get you a new husband. Get up and go after him!” she demanded, pointing at the door. “Now!”
“Fuck that, old lady. And stay the fuck outta my business.”
The customers in the diner were all in shock, looking back and forth to me, then Jill, then Agnes, and then back to each other. This was headline news in Plentywood. The phones would be burning up for days.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Benedict
Six Months Ago
“You could come with me,” I said. “LA needs trash guys.”
“Thanks for that,” he replied, adjusting his balls in his boxers. “Always great to be called the trash guy.”
“You know what I mean, Rocco. Sanitation coordinator, or whatever.”
It was Wednesday. Rocco stayed over on Wednesdays and Sundays. That was his schedule, and what he could give to me. I had the choice to accept it or not—he didn’t care either way. He wasn’t gay, according to him, and it didn’t matter the days as long they fit his days off, and he could get sexual release twice a week.
“I ain’t going to LA, baby. I done told you that,” he stated, reaching for the remote. “This was temporary for the both of us.”
“You said you liked me,” I reminded him.
“You had my dick in your mouth, baby. I always say shit like that when getting my nuts drained. Go wash your ass and I’ll remind you why you like me so much.”
“You’re gross,” I hissed, staring at him like I was surprised he acted the way he did.
I’d met Rocco one day while slamming down lunch in the alley behind the hospital in between rounds. That was backwhen I was a third-year resident. Now I was completing a fellowship, inches from the finish line. I was Chief Resident and controlled the schedule for all residents, but I still busted my ass because I wanted to work at one of the best hospitals in LA or New York City.
“I told you we’d fuck till you was done with your fancy doctoring shit, and then if you hadda move, well, goodbye, buddy boy.”
“Jesus!” I muttered, stunned I’d allowed myself to think we had a future. “We’ve been together for nearly three years. I thought you might see me as more than just sex.”
“What gave you that impression?” he grunted, turning ESPN on. “Just cuz I fuck you so good, don’t mean I wanna be livin’ some gay-ass lifestyle, sweet cheeks.”
“So?” I asked, lifting my arms from my side, and then dropping them. “That’s it? Just like that? In five months we’re done?”
“If you move out of New York we is,” he confirmed. “What part of I ain’t no fag, ain’t you understandin’?”
