Sleeping ’til Sunrise Read Online Free PDF Page B

center of town.
    “And Hutch cornered Craig Turley the next time he went in to buy groceries and, well, that’s why when he sees you coming he runs the other way.”
    “He did what?”
    Dwyer shrugged.
    “He had no right to—”
    “Better him than somebody not as professional, and you know everyone knows Hutch, right? I mean, he owns the only grocery store in town.”
    Finding a bench, I flopped down on it hard, then bent forward so I wouldn’t hyperventilate from the sheer horror of having Hutch Crowley warn Ivy’s high school counselor to stay away from me.
    “I’m actually a grown-up, you know. I don’t need everyone keeping an eye on me and making sure I don’t get hit on.”
    “But that’s the issue, right? No one wants to see you or your cute kid, get hurt. So if you want to run off to Destin or Panama City to get laid—go for it. But since everybody who’s gay in this town knows everybody else—”
    “You don’t know—”
    “Pardon me—everyone who is out and gay knows everyone else,” Dwyer amended. “That okay? Not offending your delicate sensibilities?”
    I flipped him off.
    “Since our community is small,” he said, glaring at me, “you need to come to the realization that everyone who knows you is looking out for you.”
    “I need to move,” I moaned, leaning back on the bench. “Holy fuck.”
    “It’s really not that bad.”
    I stared up at him. “How do you figure?”
    “Well, for one, we’re all pulling for you and Roark.”
    “Oh God.”
    “But I get why he’s been ducking you.”
    I looked back at him. “Why?”
    “He told Takeo and me that he’s sick.”
    Deep breath. “Yeah.”
    He took a seat beside me. “So it makes sense that with all you’ve been through already that he would steer clear of you.”
    “But I’m drawn to him.”
    “Well, yeah, who wouldn’t be, he’s gorgeous.”
    “I’m sorry?”
    “What? I’d have to be blind.”
    “Takeo better not hear you say another man is pretty.”
    “Like he gives a shit,” he scoffed. “Takeo knows I worship the ground he walks on.”
    And I knew it went both ways.
    “But I think Roark’s decision was a sound one, considering everything.”
    I shook my head. “He needs to let me make my own choice.”
    “I know.”
    “I mean, Jesus, Dwyer, he’s amazing.”
    I’d known Roark was worth getting to know after the first time I’d taken my daughter to see him. He sat beside her on the examination table, and together they filled out the questionnaire about her health history. They had a very frank discussion about her period—far more than I ever wanted to know—and he asked her, not me, if she was planning to have sex.
    I was horrified and had told them both that would happen only over my dead body.
    “We’ll talk about it later,” he assured her, scowling at me.
    She was relieved, and when he took her hand, she squeezed tight.
    When she told him about her mother, I was surprised, because she wasn’t usually so open—unless you counted Hutch Crowley—but he listened and then hugged her afterward as she blubbered all over his midnight-blue Henley. What impressed me was that I saw a man clearly interested in my child, and not just as her doctor. He cared about her, I could tell, and that, as a parent, went a long way. It wasn’t lip service, it wasn’t professional courtesy. He liked kids, and he liked her.
    I saw him at her soccer games, in the stands cheering, and afterward it wasn’t just my kid he went down and high-fived. All the girls adored him, as did their parents. He was mobbed wherever he went.
    Toddlers went charging down sidewalks to him, boys who were in that transition from adolescent to teenager would catch up to him just to walk with him a little, whispering questions I could see Roark answer in the same hushed tone so as not to embarrass them. I tried not to smile when I caught questions about hair on balls, morning wood, and waking up with wet sheets as they walked by me with