Chapter Text
You try so hard to be cold, you try so hard to not show
I give you nothing to doubt and you doubt me
I give you all that I have but you don't see
[black rebel motorcycle club | howl]
"How are you holding up?"
Anyone else and Robby would have brushed them off with a quip and a 'fine,' but Dana got pissy when he did that to her.
"Ah, you know. Alright." He looked at the screen and hammered his finger on the stuck D key until it crunched down. He looked at the keyboard and felt a growl come out of his throat. He grabbed it and flipped it over, shaking it harshly until dried breadcrumbs fluttered onto the desk. He smacked it twice for good measure, ignoring Dana's quiet "Jesus" at the outburst. When he'd gotten everything out that would come out with that treatment, he brushed the debris off the table with his sleeve and slammed the keyboard back on the table. Fucking interns and their bad habits.
"That good, huh?" Dana commented drily.
"What do you want to hear, Dana, hm?" he asked. "He's dead because he was stubborn." And Robby had been unable to do anything but stand by and wait and watch. He was already exhausted with where this conversation was going. He did not need her Statler and Waldorf stick judging him today.
Dana leaned against the desk and looked at him over the rims of her glasses. "I'm sorry that it happened."
Feeling bad for snapping, Robby shot her an apologetic smile. It wasn't her fault that Duke had been recalcitrant and stubborn and unable to accept help. She was asking honestly how he was doing; it wasn't her fault that he was incapable of sharing that.
"Were you the odd man out at the funeral?" she prodded.
Robby huffed out a laugh and nodded. She'd hit the nail on the head with that one. "Fifty bikers and me in a suit." That got the reaction he wanted. She'd only seen Duke once or twice, but that had made enough of an impression that she could imagine what the funeral had to be like.
"It's good that you took the time to go," she said now. He was glad, too. It had felt good to be able to say goodbye.
"I got an email from the notary," he confessed. "Haven't opened it yet. I don't want to know what Duke thought I'd want of his." They hadn't been that close.
"Maybe he left you a bike? A flannel with cut off sleeves?" She pulled up a chair and sat down. "Go on, look." She stayed, even though the floor was chaotic enough to keep her busy.
He eyed her warily. Surely, she had better things to do than keep him company while he read an email; she waited him out, gently nudging, there for him in case he needed a supportive shoulder. She even told someone approaching from behind him "Not now." While she was waiting for him to log in, she gave her okay on a chart she was given from someone else and politely didn't look into his screen, but she stayed where she was, right next to him.
Fine.
He logged in and clicked on the email and speed-read through the irrelevant parts: Duke Ekins, etc. born, died, last will and testament. He scrolled further down.
Went back up. Read the email again.
The text and meaning stayed the same.
A cabin.
Duke had left him a cabin in a national park two hours away.
He had to look shaken, because Dana put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in. "What's got you so surprised?" she asked quietly. "Is it a bike?"
He re-read the sentence a third time and clicked on the attachment. "He left me a cabin."
"What?" Dana gave up any pretense of politeness and looked over his shoulder at the image on the screen. "This cabin? It's a beauty." She stared. "Robby, it's gorgeous."
It was, she was right. It was gorgeous and cozy and from what he could tell, it was roomy, too. It also looked like it was in the middle of nowhere. The photo showed a fence and some sort of meadow surrounding it. Tall trees were in the picture as well, cedars or something equally impressive. There was a bit of asphalt in the picture so there had to be a road leading to it.
Her sudden, soft "Oh" and the way her hand moved up to her mouth made him re-read the text directly above the image.
For my friend, Robby. To get away from it all. I couldn't do for 12 minutes what you've been doing for 20 years. Thank you for everything you've done for me.
When Robby looked at Dana, her eyes were watery and she nodded. "That's… that's a kind thought."
Robby scoffed. Sure it was, but what was he supposed to do with a cabin in the woods two hours away? "It is. But…" He gestured around them. "What would I do at a cabin?"
Dana threw her hands up, exploding at him, "Get away, like he said!" She took a deep breath before she reined her outburst in and squeezed his shoulder. Much gentler, she continued, "Robby, you already canceled that sabbatical you wanted to take. Maybe this is… a sign or something."
"A cabin." A cabin as a sign.
"Yeah, Robby. A cabin." She looked at the picture and then back at him. "This is yours now, whatever you choose to do with it later, at least have a look at it. Take a few days, drive up there… maybe it's in a good enough condition to stay there."
His eyes wandered to the screen again where the cabin looked like an inviting promise of calm and quiet. His eyes automatically went to the text above. Twenty fucking years. Robby groaned. This was ridiculous.
On the other hand, he'd been meaning to take a few days off for as long as he could remember; three days, maybe four. Surely the ED would still be standing if he took four days off.
As much as he wanted to disregard the idea of him going to that cabin, there was something deeply appealing about it. He examined the picture more closely, the deck and the front door, the smallish windows with the wooden storm shutters in the front.
It would be nice to at least see it and say his last goodbye to Duke there. It was a kind of responsibility, too, wasn't it? To appreciate the gesture and close that chapter of his life.
He knew that this particular park had a few spectacular views and waterfalls and steep canyons that offered great views. It was also well-known to be a hot-spot for motorcycle tours, which was probably the reason Duke had chosen that park as his second home.
Never in a million years would Robby have believed that Duke owned a remote cabin in the woods somewhere, with no bar and no place to buy cigarettes far and wide. Although, who knew, maybe the photograph just made it look remote. It could be five minutes off the highway for all he knew.
Dana seemed to be taking his pause as a no, however, because she shrugged at him. "At least think about it."
"I will," he promised as he logged out, a plan forming. He'd need to talk to HR. He'd need to claim the deed first. He didn't have the head for this right now. Hand off came first, he noted, when he saw the night shift attending come towards them.
Dana took that as a cue to check in with her nurses and got up to leave them to it.
"Robby, early start today."
"Adams." Robby looked at his watch. "Yes, actually. You're really early. What's up?"
The night shift attending made a face, subtle enough to not be noticeable by any of their residents, and leaned in. "Don't say anything… Gloria wanted to see me. Something about me being too good at my job for the hospital to handle."
Robby snorted. More like the other doctor had accrued enough negative patient reviews to warrant an audit. "In your dreams, Adams." He came around the counter to be able to have a look at the monitors with his night shift counterpart. "Why don't we start with this rash that's still waiting for labs."
"Why don't we."
Robby appreciated Adams. He really did. The guy was young, springy, eager, and hadn't been here long enough to be jaded yet; exactly what they needed. He was also very good at his job, swiped directly from a five-year stint in Baltimore's finest trauma center; nothing could surprise him.
When they were through with hand off, Robby took a deep breath. "Also, I'd need tomorrow morning off. Something spontaneous came up. Do you have a junior attending who wouldn't mind doing an extra half shift?"
Adams, to his credit, didn't even blink. "Sure. I've got… I know Shen won't mind. I'll let him know."
Shen was perfect. "Great. I'll bring him coffee when I get in."
Robby, apparently, had a notary to see and a deed to get.
* * *
After picking up the deed and everything that came with it, it took time to arrange for a few days off, for someone to cover him, and to do a little research in his spare time that turned out to actually be a fun distraction from his usual evenings. That park had an incredible wealth of options for leisure time activities. The closest town was picturesque and touristy with a few small museums. Even if there was nothing for him to do at the cabin itself, he wouldn't run out of things to do in those two days.
Two weeks later—on a warm, sunny day, because you want your first impression to be a good one, Dana had insisted—he found himself parked at a secluded vista point in the middle of the park with a visitor map spread across the steering wheel.
He was an idiot for thinking he could come here and see the place without any further preparations.
He didn't have an exact address, he didn't have GPS coordinates, he only had the deed and an access road number—one that didn't match any of the numbers on either the paper map in front of him or Google Maps.
He was a fucking moron; and one without a motel reservation at that. If he didn't find the cabin, he'd have to drive to a campground and sleep in his car. At least he wouldn't starve out here, not with a cooler full of food and beverages in the trunk.
He barely looked up when a car pulled up next to his; he was at a vista point after all. But once the door opened and closed and only one person got out quietly and started approaching his car, he looked over.
The car that had pulled up was a white SUV with the National Park Service livery on the side. And its driver, a handsome, salt-and-pepper haired ranger was looking straight at him.
"Hey there. You lost?" He tipped his chin at the map, offering his services.
Robby thought about saying no, but ultimately being lost was worse than admitting to a government official that he'd quite like some help. "Sort of," he answered. "I know where I am, I just don't know where the place I'm going to is."
"Maybe I can help? I do know my way around." The smarmy fucker even stepped aside to let Robby see the arrowhead logo of the NPS on his car; for emphasis.
Grateful, Robby opened his door to join the ranger outside. He was glad for the opportunity to stretch his legs. Gravel and sand crunched under his shoes; his brain lagged for a moment trying to remember when he'd last been in nature or anywhere with something other than concrete or linoleum under his shoes. He took the deed and the map with him and walked around his door to the hood of his car where he spread the map out.
The ranger followed, pulling a pen from his belt. "Let's have a look."
"I'm headed for… ah, what was it." Robby uncurled the deed in his hand and showed it to the ranger instead of looking for the plot number and the access road.
"Ekins' place," the ranger rumbled. Robby felt a change in demeanor more than he saw it; a pause, an odd stiffening.
There was no need to get defensive, but he did anyway. "Yeah, Duke Ekins. I…" He realized in that moment that the ranger had known Duke and probably didn't know yet that he had died. "I'm sorry if you're hearing this from me first. He died two weeks ago."
All he got was a quiet "Oh." Surprise, not sadness; a calm acceptance that gave Robby nothing.
"Did you know him?" he asked.
The ranger shrugged. "I did, yeah. In a way. We weren't friendly, though." There was a defensive hardness to his tone, something big left unsaid.
Robby remembered Duke talking about his unsavory past, about things he'd done that he wasn't proud of. About death he hadn't been able to make up for. "He left me this cabin. I thought… I'd come see it, you know?"
See it and visit once and maybe sell the place or rent it to people who actually wanted to be here, because he certainly wasn't going to move to Bumfuck Mountain National Park when he had a job in Pittsburgh that kept him busy 365 days a year. He couldn't, even if he wanted to; even if—as much as he wanted to quieten it—some part of him seriously considered keeping the place. He hadn't even seen it yet; it could still be a disaster.
The ranger nodded along with the explanation. "You were friends then?" It didn't sound challenging; it was not the law enforcement kind of question that would usually make the hair on Robby's neck stand up. It sounded oddly genuine and careful.
Robby gave it a moment of thought. "I think so. Mainly he helped me restore a motorcycle for my sabbatical." He thought back to their odd friendship. How he'd found Duke in the city's digital phone book and showed up at his shop one day without much of a plan. Back then, he had not thought that they would ever become closer than shop owner and customer. "We may have known different versions of him, you and I," he added, because the Duke he'd known had consciously closed a chapter of his life that he hadn't talked to Robby about. There had been some part of himself that he'd disliked, which was apparently a part that had lived here for a while, judging by the reaction. The part that Robby knew had been stand-up if a little rowdy.
"Probably."
"Look, I'm sorry if he was not…" He didn't know what he wanted to say. He'd known a Duke who was likeable, who was rough around the edges, who didn't always say nice things about others, but he'd been a good guy for as long as Robby had known him. "I know he used to be angrier. That's all I know." That was the feeling he'd gotten in the time they'd known each other.
"Everyone can change," the ranger said philosophically. "I don't doubt that the Duke you knew was someone you'd call a friend."
That, Robby could work with. "He could be a grumpy asshole, too," he blurted out and for the first time since the funeral, he felt a wave of grief wash over him. A laugh escaped him. "Oh, he could be an ass. And he was incredibly stubborn." And he had drunk like a fish and smoked two packs a day. And he used to forget his heart medication and he'd been… scared of surgeries or maybe he'd just been done with life, the way Robby had been. Maybe he'd been tired. Maybe going out on his own terms had been the only thing that had made sense for him.
The ranger nodded along. "That does sound like the Ekins I'm familiar with." He wasn't mean about it, wasn't trying to put Duke down. It sounded honest, and there was no judgment in his tone. It felt like grief recognizing grief. He didn't offer more than that, though, and Robby wasn't brave enough to ask what Duke had done to put that look on his face.
The ranger thawed then and Robby could almost see him give himself a push, give Robby a chance, because he smiled and nodded at the map.
"Well, I can tell you how to get to his place. Sorry, your new place." He clicked his pen and bent over, finger following one road until he stopped and frowned. "Hm."
"Not on the map, huh?"
The ranger scratched the back of his head and popped back up. "How about this. I draw the two access roads into your map, so you can find your way back to the entrance, but I'll show you the right turns today. That way you don't get lost on me a second time."
"Show me?"
The ranger's eyebrows waggled playfully, a smile on his face. "The joy of being a LEO with the NPS is that I can patrol whatever area of the park I like, including this little-known access road that leads to your place and is two turns off the main road." He pointed the pen at a blank spot on the map.
Robby blew out a breath. "I'd really appreciate it."
"Jack Abbot," the ranger introduced himself and held out his hand. "If you move here, we'll probably see each other more often."
"Michael Robinavitch." Robby shook the hand he was offered. "I'd appreciate it if you'd call me Robby like everyone else."
"Robby it is." The ranger drew the roads into the map as he'd promised and then folded it up. On the front page, he wrote down his phone number. "In case you need help." Abbot handed the map back and pointed down the road Robby had been on, in the direction he'd been going. "It's… ten, fifteen minutes from here. Follow me."
"Thank you."
"It's no problem at all."
He waited until Abbot had started his car and was turning onto the main road to start his own. He followed the white SUV and tried to pay attention to where they were turning off so that next time he'd find the place by himself. He marked the turn off on his car's navigation system to be certain.
This part of the park was beyond beautiful. Now that he knew he wasn't getting lost, he took the time to look around when the road permitted it. There was a gorgeous view of the valley beyond the trees. Along the right side of the road, lush shrubs grew wild and dense, bordered by high cedars. Heathers dotted the roadside on the left with wide swathes of purple. Robby turned down the window on the passenger side and inhaled the air. He hadn't smelled anything this good in forever.
The ranger's SUV in front of him slowed down when they reached a bend and finally braked to come to a stop at their destination. The cabin from the email had appeared to their left, looking bigger than what he had expected from the picture. This was a cabin that one could actually live in.
The ranger got out and stopped by his own vehicle, expectantly. "This is it!" he called out.
Robby slid from his seat and onto the asphalt. "It's beautiful."
Abbot nodded. "It is. It was built in the thirties, renovated and added to in the sixties and eighties. Ekins lived here on and off until a few years ago. He built the garage. Fought tooth and nail for a permit to make it wider than standard."
Robby almost asked what had happened. Almost; the question was already on his tongue, but one look at the suddenly closed off, lost expression on Abbot's face stopped him. Maybe some other time.
"Thank you so much. I wouldn't have found this on my own." He'd had his run ins with law enforcement officers on the job, very few of them had been good, but he couldn't deny that he was glad this ranger had found him.
The ranger brushed him off with a gesture. "No problem. Are you going to stay here?"
Robby shrugged. "Haven't really thought much further than… coming here. I need to be back in Pittsburgh in three days." This visit was not a vacation. It was a few days off to have a look and take make an informed decision whether he wanted it or not; if it was worth the work he needed to put in.
"Well, remember to run hot water through the pipes for at least ten minutes to mitigate bacteria. You know where everything is? Breakers, main water line?"
"I've got instructions on pretty much everything inside." Robby held up the deed that had come with a map of things to know that Duke had written down. "But not how to get here."
"Instructions, huh?" the ranger murmured. "Well, good luck then."
"Abbot?"
"Hm?"
"The Duke you knew…"
Abbot shook his head. "Water under the bridge. It has nothing to do with you."
"No hard feelings then?"
The corner of Abbot's mouth twitched up. "No. I believe it'll be different this time." He looked over to the cabin, eyes distant. There was something heavy there, something steep like the mountains surrounding them. When he settled on Robby again, he looked kind. "It'll be good to have this place not be empty anymore."
Well, that was a hint. "I can't promise that I'll stay. Or come back." Or how often or when. His eyes drifted in the other direction, towards the gap in the tree line that revealed the valley beyond. The view was incredible. He didn't know why Duke had stopped coming here, it was none of his business, but he felt the magic of this place. If he had the time or the energy to make that drive, he'd come here to refuel once a month.
He scrubbed a hand through his beard. A few months ago, he'd wanted to get away from PTMC so badly he'd been ready to end things for good, and here he had the perfect opportunity to take breaks, to recharge. All that stood in his way was himself.
He turned his gaze on the ranger again. "We'll see."
Abbot pulled his car door open. "Whatever happens, happens." He tapped the metal. "I'll get going. You have my number."
Robby nodded, flapping the map in his hand, to show he had it. "Going above and beyond."
"You're an exception, Robinavitch." He held up a quick hand and corrected himself. "Robby."
Apparently Abbot was sure that Robby had it from here, because he got back in his car and turned the window down before making a turn on the road so he could drive back the way they'd come. He stopped when he was next to Robby again. "See you around. Don't forget to let the hot water run. And don't hurt any animals while you're here."
Robby nodded dumbly as the ranger drove off. That last one was a warning, he realized belatedly.
He grabbed the key ring he'd received from the notary from the car and unlatched the gate. It swung open, welcoming him inside with a rusty, creaking noise. He had no doubt that he would find a can of WD-40 in the garage somewhere.
The concrete walkway leading to the front door was overgrown with moss and grass. A crack ran through one of the tiles. The wooden deck was littered with debris; twigs, smaller branches, leaves, and whatever else the winds had blown against the walls of the cabin in the past few years. A small pine tree was growing too close to the deck that had no business there. The property looked mainly intact, but forgotten. How many years had no one been here?
He opened the front door and was met with a stale but clean smell. The structure was partly wood, which explained the good climate. It didn't smell bad; nothing had rotted in here.
He set the keys down on the cabinet by the front door and turned back outside to open the storm shutters.
* * *
Once he'd settled in, cleaned everything, checked all the cabinets, and the water had run the appropriate amount of time to not poison him with Legionella, he took one last look around before he brought his bags and the cooler in.
He had, though he'd promised Abbot not to kill anything, vacuumed the place and gotten rid of all the spider webs he found. He hadn't consciously killed anything as far as he was aware; although who knew what had been behind that closet, a space so tight he'd been forced to vacuum it blindly.
Once he had put everything away, he sat on the deck in a pristine-looking Adirondack chair he'd found inside, freshly showered, in clean clothes, and with a fridge-cold beer in his hand. He was exhausted and sore but satisfied with what he'd gotten done.
He cushioned his head with his hand and lounged in the chair, enjoying the view. He'd take care of the outside of the cabin another time. Tomorrow, he'd clean up in the garage. He doubted he'd have time for anything else after that.
The problem wasn't that he couldn't picture himself living here, at least part-time. The problem was that it was all too easy to do so. He was tired—of the way he was living his life currently, of the ED, of the tension he constantly felt. Even his teeth hurt on most days with how hard he clenched his jaw all the time.
I don't know how you stand twelve minutes in there, let alone twelve hours, twenty years.
Robby knew what he'd answered. That it was the only place he could be. He had purpose there. He was able to stand himself and his life and distract himself from everything he hated about himself when he was there.
He'd made peace with himself that day. Had acknowledged that he needed help. Had made a more serious attempt at therapy. Even his therapist had told him that what he was asking of himself was impossible. There was an image of himself that he had, that he was comparing himself to every day. They'd slowly started to dismantle that, to dismantle the things he felt he had to do and why he felt he had to do them. It took work and time and patience with himself.
So here he was, in an Adirondack chair in a national park far away from Pittsburgh watching an airplane-shaped cloud drift by and slowly turn into a laryngoscope-shaped one. An eagle passed by overhead, soaring out of sight somewhere behind him. It was quiet here, relaxing. The sun was warm on his skin. Insects were buzzing.
This was what it felt like to not be tense, to not use part of his concentration every second to listen to monitor beeps for aberrations.
He'd see how he'd do in the quiet tonight. If he decided to return, he'd probably bring a television set or at least a radio. Just in case the quiet ever became too much.
He picked up his phone and scrolled down to Noelle's contact. He had promised her he would call once he was settled. With his thumb hovering over her name, he recalled their last conversation in which he'd had the feeling she was holding him at arms' length.
With a sigh, he let his phone sink into his lap and pushed that promised call back by a day; tomorrow was soon enough.
Suddenly, his eyes were drawn to movement at the ridge line between the trees.
At first he was certain he was mistaken. That had to be a dog and any second now, a hiker would catch up with it and call it back… but no. Even with this distance between Robby and the animal, about two football fields, he knew what he was seeing.
A wolf.
It was lean and light brown, standing there on long, skinny legs. The wind that blew across the ridge was ruffling its fur. When it noticed him looking at it, its head went still before it shrank away a moment later. It moved sideways a few uneven steps and then it twisted around and bounded out of sight.
Robby swallowed.
Of course, he had abstract knowledge of the fact that there were wild animals in this park; wolves, bears, deer, and plenty other species—of course there were—but to have that confirmed by actually seeing one up close, was still a shock.
Maybe that was what Abbot had meant by not hurting animals in the park. What about animals hurting him? Robby knew next to nothing about wolves, only that they lived in packs and had a lot of sharp teeth.
He finished his beer faster than he'd meant to and went inside. He closed the door, locked it, and made sure all the windows were closed as well. Then he sat down and searched the internet for wolf facts. He stopped a video in the very middle of a scientist talking about howls before he grabbed the map Abbot had written his phone number on. He'd get his facts from a reliable source, he thought. Someone who knew the wolves of the area and whether they had rabies or not.
"Ranger Abbot, NPS."
"There's a wolf outside, by the ridge," Robby said without a greeting.
"Robby," Abbot said, a smile in his voice.
"Abbot, I just saw a wolf outside." Before he could formulate the questions he wanted to ask, Abbot took over.
"Robby, if you see a wolf by that cabin, he's not a dangerous one."
"How do you know?"
"Wolves are territorial and I know where these territories are. And the loner that happens to wander past your place sometimes… that one's not a danger to you."
"It looked right at me."
"Because you're interesting." Abbot said. Robby heard through the speaker that the ranger was grinning. He sounded apologetic when he continued. "Sorry, I'm not trying to be an ass about this. He's harmless. He was probably just as startled to see someone at that cabin as you were to see him."
Robby let out the breath he'd been holding a moment too long. "You're sure."
"I am. He's a shy one, more scared of you than you are of him. You do not have to worry about him." A moment later, because Robby was still quietly debating what he should do, Abbot continued. "How did the cleaning go?"
"A lot of cobwebs, but nothing out of the ordinary. Not that I expected anything. Strangest thing I found were bedlinens with flowers on them. And canned peaches that expired two years ago."
Abbot snorted. "That's good. That… there wasn't anything off-putting in there."
Robby agreed. He hadn't really expected to find anything that would tell him more about Duke's sordid past, but he couldn't deny that he was a little disappointed to find nothing at all. Whatever had made Duke stop coming here he'd taken with him to Pittsburgh.
"Were you enjoying the view when you saw him?"
Robby groaned, mind going back to the wolf. "I was. Sitting on the deck with a beer in my hand, minding my business, looking at the clouds." A sudden laugh bubbled up. "The cold bottle was really nice on my wrecked hands."
Abbot joined him in his laughter. "Oh no. You have blisters."
"I cleaned the cabin top to bottom. Did about five loads of laundry." It had felt good, too. That part he didn't say. In his bachelor pad in Pittsburgh, he regularly cleaned superficially, but he knew there was dust in a lot of places that gave away his habits. The untouched dinner table, the mostly untouched second sink in the bathroom, the balcony that he rarely ever stepped onto, a spare room that housed a few boxes and an exercise bike that rarely ever saw him. His home showed a lack of care that extended to himself. "But I'm done now."
"Relaxing."
"I was." Right up until he'd spotted that wolf.
Looking around, he thought about how to spend the rest of his evening—and that there was another full day ahead of him. He gave in to the urge that suddenly overcame him. "If you're around tomorrow evening, I still have two beers left."
"Is that an invitation?" There was that audible smile again.
Robby grinned. "It is if you're interested."
He had a second Adirondack chair, after all. And if he planned on spending time here, he should invest in some kind of social network. People to talk to.
He thought back to Pittsburgh, to the friends he'd made there, to work colleagues, like Dana or Adams or Hanson; people he respected but didn't let close. He hadn't had a beer with Hanson in forever. There was a bitter taste to it, knowing that he knew all of these people so well, yet none of them felt like close friends.
He didn't even feel close with Noelle anymore if he ever had. He thought about calling her. He'd ask her if she wanted to come up here so he could show her the beauty of this place. He already knew how that phone call would go. He'd offer, she'd hedge and give him another maybe that would never happen.
It was a dance they knew well; one that felt more like a game of tug of war than anything else.
Part of him knew it was time to call it quits. For the longest time he'd thought that was what he wanted, an uncomplicated, easy relationship. Neither of them had time for more than that anyway. Although lately, he'd been wondering if it was enough. He was tired of being strung along. It was easier to let go first. He knew that much.
Robby stretched out on the small couch and wished for a television to distract himself. He did not want to think about his relationships right now, not when he was alone and up here in the quiet.
Abbot was not what Robby had expected, because he said, "I might be. I'll text you tomorrow when I can get away, alright?" There was rustling on the other end. "Sleep well, you've earned it. And trust me, that wolf is not going to breathe your house down."
Robby grunted, somewhat relieved by Abbot's nonchalance. It helped. He imagined the situation was much like one he found himself often enough when patients came to him with symptoms and he was able to assuage their fears. He looked out the window, but there was nothing in the darkness. A shy one, more scared of him than he was of it. He could live with that.
"Thank you, Ranger Abbot."
"You're welcome. Good night."
Friends, Robby thought. He liked the idea of making new friends.
* * *
The second day, he cleared out the garage, which he discovered was basically a toolshed for motorcycle maintenance. The garage itself was wooden and insulation only a suggestion, which meant it would get hot in summer and was probably a veritable ice box in winter.
Duke, for all that he'd been a stickler for a clean workplace in Pittsburgh, seemed to have had either a fit of rage in here or didn't much care where things went. Knowing Duke, it could have been either. It looked like a tornado had blown through and then someone had simply closed the door behind the chaos.
Robby dared to open the garage door to enjoy the view as he worked on cleaning the space, the presence of the wolf pushed to the back of his mind for now after Abbot's firm defense of it.
The garage took half the day, but once he was done, he could put the car inside and still had space for a motorcycle next to it if he brought one up here. He'd have to, with those roads twisting through the park like lazy snakes. He couldn't imagine being here without his bike. He wanted to explore every inch of this park with it, ride it to every vista point and every hiking trail. He found a few photographs in one of the drawers that promised that the summers here were gorgeous.
He had a feeling that time spent at the cabin would be both, over too quickly and stretching like molasses.
Abbot texted him in the afternoon. Does that beer offer still stand?
Robby replied an affirmative. Of course it did, he was happy he wouldn't have to spend the evening alone. The night would be long enough in the quiet.
Great. I'll bring food. You're not vegetarian are you?
Robby wasn't. He told Abbot as much.
When Abbot arrived in the late afternoon, it was with four boxes from a local Bar & Grill restaurant that Abbot told him made great food. He'd had it delivered to the entrance, as he told him in between bites, determined to serve Robby a taste of everything they offered.
"Is this a bribe to make me keep the place?" Robby asked when he finished off the last of the wings. He chased it with a long sip of his beer.
"It's at least a promise of what delicacies you can expect from the local cuisine." The local cuisine, it seemed, was heart attack food.
"It's delicious. Thanks for this." Robby slouched further into the seat. In front of them, the sun was slowly moving towards the horizon, painting the sky a pinkish orange. Long, feathery clouds stretched across the sky for miles and miles.
"I haven't decided yet," Robby finally said to break the silence. He rolled his head along the backrest of the chair to face Abbot.
"That's alright. There's no hurry, is there?" Abbot stretched one leg in front of him, massaging its thigh. "Come here with that bike of yours. I'm sure that'll make the decision easier."
Robby envied the man his calm. He always felt like a live wire, mind in ten places at once, scared to be still. Watching Abbot's unhurried demeanor, from the way he moved to the way he talked, he wished he could be more like that. "You think I'll stay?"
Abbot shrugged. "What do you have to lose? This cabin will continue sitting here even if you don't come by every weekend. And you don't look like you need to make money by selling it."
Robby scoffed. "How?"
"I don't know." Abbot's smile was cheesy as he tipped the neck of his bottle towards Robby's jacket. "I think it's the thread count of your flannel."
Robby pulled his arms in and crossed them, letting Abbot know what he thought of that. "You're not wrong, though," he admitted when Abbot's smirk stayed unimpressed. "Doctor money goes a long way… towards buying good flannels."
"You're a doctor?" Abbot asked. "Wow."
Robby huffed out a breath. Being a doctor was very little 'wow.' The paychecks were. The work was mostly decisions and stress and good guessing and a lifestyle that put a lot of them in the grave too young. "It's stressful. And lonely."
Abbot nodded. "Lots of responsibility, too."
Robby nodded. Yeah, that, too.
Abbot's eyes dropped to where Robby's left hand disappeared under his arm. "I didn't want to pry."
Robby spread his fingers under his armpits and across his ribs before curling them in tight. No, no wife, no kids, even though he'd thought he'd have both by now; kids in college, someone to share his life with. Someone to grow old with. Instead, here he was, at fifty something, with nothing to show but depression and anxiety and thoughts that had gotten progressively darker for the past couple of years. His eyes wandered towards the edge of the property. At least he had a picket fence now.
"My… my wife died," Abbot suddenly offered. When Robby looked over, Abbot was twisting a wedding ring on his finger. He pulled it off and turned it around between his fingers. "And it's been hard, losing her and losing… everything I held dear." There was a heaviness to his voice. "Because I didn't lose only her in the process." He looked at Robby.
"I'm so sorry, man."
Abbot waved him off. "That's not why… anyway. At first I thought I couldn't stay here. You can't lose so much that is tied to one place and not want to run as far away as you can." Abbot cleared his throat. "But it's home. It's the place she loved. And being here reminds me of good times we had. Joy, laughter, love. It's what I have left of what we had together."
Robby understood that. Sometimes it felt like staying at PTMC even though he'd lost so much of himself there over the years, was what was slowly killing him and saving him at the same time. The Pitt gave him purpose. Healing and teaching people was what made him the person he was.
He just wasn't sure he could pay the price anymore that came with that sense of purpose. At least not without breaks or someone to share the dark hours with.
Abbot met his eyes with a sad smile. "It's lonely, too, don't get me wrong. But you can find joy here. People to spend time with, share adventures with. There are hiking groups, courses you can take, a lot of beautiful things to see."
Robby froze. A lot of beautiful things to see; a thought plucked right from his head. He stared at Abbot who was looking at the sky which was turning a darker pink now.
When Robby didn't say anything, Abbot looked at him, frowning at his reaction. "Hm?"
"Nothing. I agree. There are a lot of beautiful things to see in this world."
Abbot smiled. "That's the spirit." He took a deep breath. "Not much longer and the sun will be down. You need to pick up stargazing here. This area of the park is perfect. We're not a certified Dark Sky spot but close to it."
"Stargazing?" Robby heard his voice crack. He cleared his throat, embarrassed.
"Yeah. You need something to make all of the bad things worth it. Something to dance through the darkness with, you know." He raised his bottle. "And find someone to dance with. Or, at the very least, someone to have a beer with."
Robby mirrored Abbot's movement and took a sip of his beer. Joy and laughter, beauty, things to see, people to meet, adventures to have. He rested his head on the back of the chair. If Pittsburgh didn't give him any of that, what was he doing there? He needed to trust his fellow doctors to do what he'd raised them to do and give the reins a little slack.
Maybe it was time to step away. Or at least take that damn sabbatical that he'd been meaning to go on. A sabbatical or a vacation or simply time away. He could do lectures, teach fellowship courses. He could reduce his hours. He had options, all he had to do was give himself a shove and talk to someone about them.
In the distance, a wolf howled. The chirruping of the crickets got louder. He wondered if he'd see fireflies once the summer nights got hot.
Abbot stretched. "I should get going soon." He got up and looked at the boxes strewn around them. "Let me get those. There's a bear-safe box near my place. Don't want one to get a whiff of those wings." He collected the containers and put them in the bag he had brought them in. Robby watched and stole the last fry stuck to the side of one of the boxes. Then, Abbot halted mid-movement. "That's a joke, by the way, Robby, there are no bears up here and certainly not one that's going to eat you."
"That's what they all say and suddenly there's a headline in the newspaper," he started and thought of what the headline could be for him. "'Local Hermit Eaten by Bear with Taste for Hot Wings.'"
Abbot let out a rough laugh. "Hah." He winked at Robby. "See? It could say 'local hermit.'"
Robby finished his beer and put it to the side. Yeah, it could. Thinking about bears reminded him of the scare he'd had the night before. "It didn't come by today," he said with a glance towards the ridge. When Abbot looked at him with a question between his eyebrows, Robby explained, "The wolf. I didn't see it today."
Something washed over Abbot's features that Robby couldn't read in the semi-darkness. "No, I guess he didn't."
* * *
Robby left for Pittsburgh the next day in the afternoon. He cruised through the park slowly, following those winding roads, enjoying the smell with the window rolled down. It was sunny and quiet until he hit the main roads that the tourists took.
He stopped at a vista point before he left, snapping a picture to use as a background for Abbot's contact. He took his time saving it, brought his water out, and stayed until a camper with 'van life' stickers on it pulled into the parking lot and parked directly in front of him.
Down in the valley, he stopped at the same Texaco station he'd filled up his tank on the way in before making his way back to the city. The highway became busier the closer he got to Pittsburgh, until he felt like he was drowning in a sea of metal and concrete. Two days away and he was already overwhelmed by the busyness of the city.
His apartment smelled dry and stale when he arrived. He emptied his water bottle into the fern and had a vivid flashback to watering the wild fern growing in the shade of the cabin. This one wouldn't know what to do out there in nature.
Or maybe it would. Maybe it would thrive out there. Maybe he would learn to thrive there, too.
He spent the rest of the afternoon catching up on emails on his dinner table which he'd wiped down in a fit of cleanliness. Why didn't he do that more often? Why didn't he take care of everything here with more love? Everything felt dusty.
He opened the door to the balcony to get some fresh air in, but the city was too loud. Sure, the park he saw from his windows was nice, but there was a construction site a few blocks away, a playground too close, trucks reversing and beeping, cars and people and bicycle bells ringing. He closed the door after a while and switched the television on.
This was what he was used to. This was what he knew.
It just didn't feel like it was enough anymore.
* * *
The emergency department was still standing when he returned to work the following morning. The night shift had left behind an orderly board, but there were too few free beds and the waiting room was pretty full.
Dana raised both arms at him, mimicking exploding. "Good, you're back! Ellis is out today, so you're down one R4. How's what for a welcome."
"A shitty one," he groused and tipped his head back.
An hour and two bicycle accidents later, he suddenly heard a familiar, flirty voice behind him. "You didn't call." There was no bite in it.
"Noelle," he murmured and twisted his body towards her to give her his full attention for the minute he could spare. She looked hot as always, slim in her suit jacket, cutting a flawless figure and making it look easy. "I was surprisingly busy," he told her.
"Doing nothing?"
Robby shrugged. Just about. He thought of the soreness of his hands and the satisfaction that had come with having cleaned the whole place. "As little as possible," he lied.
"You look like you caught some sun on that Thoreau sojourn." She raised her arm like she wanted to touch his face but thought better of it. She crossed her arms instead and leaned towards him. "So? How was it?"
"Nice. Beautiful views." He looked at her and tried to imagine her there, in the other Adirondack chair, having a beer with him. Maybe with that weird sunhat on that he'd found cleaning up the garage; or in the big bed with him, warm and naked. "If I keep it, you should come."
Her smile was as radiant as ever when she answered, "Sure. We'll do that." She said it with that same noncommittal air that she'd agreed to dinner at that new steakhouse a few weeks back. They still hadn't gone.
"Robby, MVA incoming. Need you out there," Dana interrupted them.
"Well, I gotta go."
"You gotta go," Noelle echoed with a smile.
By the time he was done with that trauma and coming out of lending his hands in another, she was gone and they had made no plans for meeting up that night.
Dana caught him looking around for her and eyed him from above the rim of her glasses. "You sure this is what you want?" she asked.
"Whatever do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean."
Robby let his hands do some of the talking. "I don't, actually. She's great."
Dana rolled her eyes. "If that's great, I don't want to know what not so great would be."
"Someone who bugs me about my private life all the time," Robby told her bluntly and scrubbed his hands over his beard.
Dana took it with the affront he'd expected. "That's what people do when they care, Robby. That should tell you something about this great relationship of yours."
Robby threw his arms out. What did she want from him? Sometimes it felt like Dana wanted that wife and kids and picket fence for him more than he did.
Deep down, he knew she was right. He and Noelle were… complicated. More complicated than they had been the first time around; or maybe he had gotten more complicated. Maybe he had changed too much.
He avoided Dana for the next hour, dipping from one trauma to the next, doing his rounds and checking in with his residents. Hanson, his favorite R4, was on his A game, teaching the residents with his usual aplomb.
Gloria came by towards the end of his shift, today in a pastel lavender suit jacket that did little to make her appear softer or warmer. She approached him with her phone at her ear and Robby was willing to bet money that when she left, she'd be on another call. He didn't envy her the kind of juggling she had to do every day.
Before she reached him, McKay called for him. "Robby, we need you!"
He excused himself with a what-can-you-do shrug. Her frustration was palpable, but she'd have to wait. His patient couldn't.
When he came back to the hub ten minutes later, she was waiting for him there, chatting up Dana.
"What's this, the gossip circle?" he asked, twirling his index finger between them.
Gloria immediately pushed off the counter and faced him, eager to finally have his attention. "I hear you had a good time on your vacation?"
"Not sure we can call two days off a vacation, but if it pleases the court," he shot back, disappointed that Dana had talked to Gloria about him. His look told her so. Dana didn't appear to regret a thing.
"Well, how about we talk?" she asked and gestured towards a quieter, emptier part of the floor.
"Sure."
Gloria gave him a lot of grief about numbers, but was also very aware of the fact that he didn't take his personal days. HR had to be hounding her about that constantly, especially since he blew off that sabbatical a few months ago.
As expected, that was exactly what she pushed first. "Have you thought about that sabbatical?"
"What, now that I've smelled freedom?"
Gloria's face said she would've put it differently. "There are some other options as well, as you know. Teaching an emergency medicine course and going on leave. So it wouldn't be that…"
"Empty?"
"… that much of a change. Three months sabbatical was too optimistic a plan, but going on leave and teaching or, hear me out, alternating one week of work and one week of vacation. PTMC strives to make sure its doctors are—"
"Gloria."
"Robby. Please talk to HR."
He looked around. Listened to his body. Thought of the fern. Gave a heaving sigh and a nod and ignored that Gloria looked like she'd won something. A battle, maybe, if not the war.
"Great," she continued, even though he hadn't said anything.
"Alright. I'll talk to them."
"Susan," Gloria offered and held out a sheet of paper with a name and an extension on it. "Susan already knows about your case."
"Susan is in for a treat," he pressed out.
To her credit, Gloria knew when he'd had enough of her meddling.
"Now, I do have some things I want to talk to you regarding charting," she began with the second topic that was on her mind. Robby prepared for the worst when he was saved by the bell, because in that moment, her phone rang. "I have to get that. I'll come talk to you tomorrow. With Adams if possible," she said as she picked up. A promise and a threat at the same time, he thought as he gave her two thumbs up and watched her push out the double doors to the admin wing, phone at her ear.
He had known he would win that bet.
* * *
"We can offer you one week on shift and one week off for one month or two. What we'd really like is for you to teach one of the fellowship courses on emergency medicine. You're an excellent teacher and the fellows would benefit from having the chief attending of a tier one trauma center teach them about triage in bigger emergencies. You've got plenty of experience after COVID and that active shooter in 2024—"
Which one? Robby wanted to ask. Which one of those active fucking shooters. Pittfest? The high school? One of those random shooters downtown? He tipped his head back. "Okay," he said just to say something to interrupt her.
Susan fell quiet immediately. There was an expectant, patient silence on her end. "Dr. Robinavitch?" Not that patient after all.
"I'll… think about it."
"We'd really like you to take some personal time. Our suggestion would be one week on, one week off for a month to make a dent in those vacation days and offer you some relaxation."
Robby sighed. He thought of the cabin and the view from his deck, of the motorcycle routes, of the hiking trails. Of Abbot and the … "Yeah. Yeah, alright."
"That's great. You still have your standard 12 on, 12 off, with your usual on-call hours and 48 off, but we'd shift those hours around in order to…"
"Susan."
"Yes, Dr. Robinavitch?"
"How about you get back to me with a schedule to look at that I can agree to." He cared little about what kind of shifting they wanted to do.
"Will do. Thank you, Dr. Robinavitch."
"You thanking me for taking time off makes me feel conned, Susan."
"You're only saying that because you don't know how much my boss has been on my case since you canceled that sabbatical. So, thank you for agreeing to this."
That made him feel marginally better. "Sure." He saved them both from the sassily magnanimous 'you're welcome' that was on the tip of his tongue. "I'll be expecting your email to sign off on."
They said their goodbyes and an hour later he had an email in his inbox from Susanne Clark. Susanne, not Susan. It came as no surprise that Gloria couldn't even get the names of her underlings right. He wondered what she made of his name on occasion and remembered one guy from admin who'd come down to the ED and firmly called him 'Robert' the whole time he was there—much to his residents' amusement. Now he knew why.
Once he was back at his desk, he texted Noelle. Want to have dinner tomorrow?
If he was going to have weeks off at a time and didn't want to spend all of that time listening to the television in his cabin, he ought to see if she wanted to have some fun. Maybe he didn't need more than that. He liked sex, she liked sex; they had an easy, no-strings thing going on. It was all either of them had time for, anyway.
He also set up an appointment with his therapist to talk things through. Dr. Bruce liked knowing about changes in Robby's life and this was a big one. They'd have to figure out Zoom therapy if he wanted to keep their weekly schedule, which he did. That was new, too.
* * *
"I've got a really busy schedule next week," Noelle said during dinner the next evening. "I can't drop my life here and come to your cabin because you're going on vacation."
"I understand that." He hadn't even necessarily meant the cabin. He could have stayed part of the off days here in Pittsburgh.
"Good." She sipped at her wine and sighed. "You could go somewhere else, you know? Fly to Hawaii, spend a week in a luxury hotel. It doesn't have to be a cabin in the middle of nowhere where you have to do your own cooking and washing."
Robby sighed. She was right. She was also very far off with her idea of what would make him relax more. "It's surprisingly nice," he said and thought of sharing a beer with the ranger, of the crickets and the sunset. He refrained from telling her that there were wolves, because then she definitely would never come to visit.
"You'd say that."
"What do you mean?"
"To get me up there."
Robby laughed. "Maybe. I could tell you it's got a jacuzzi, but you'd be disappointed if you arrived and I had just dragged the bathtub onto the deck."
"Well, maybe you can install one. Then we'll talk."
"I'll think about it."
He knew there were a few luxury hotels near the park that offered spa treatments and brine pools and algae baths and whatnot. Five-course Michelin star micro fusion cuisine. Maybe a weekend in one of those would be more up her alley; stay there, enjoy the amenities, and only drop by the cabin.
"You do that." She reached out to touch his hand. "Are you going up there soon?"
"I think I will, yeah." It wasn't that he'd made his plans dependent on what her answer would be. He'd simply been willing to work around her. But if Noelle didn't have time for him, he wouldn't plan around her either.
* * *
Frank waited for Jack by the white SUV. It was late already, the sun was setting, making everything look muted. The air was cooling down, a pleasant wind ruffled his fur. Usually, Jack went home long before now and Frank would catch him at his apartment. Good thing he'd tried here first; that way he could hopefully get a ride to the condos. Jack had gone home early last night.
Finally, he spotted Jack leaving the Ranger Operations building. As soon as he came close to his car, Frank sat up on his haunches. When Jack spotted him, he slowed down.
"Are you here to tell me about Ekins' place?" Jack asked. His eyes roamed over Frank's smaller form, examining and observing, the way he always did when they hadn't seen each other in a while.
That was exactly what Frank was here for. Someone had moved into Duke Ekins' place and—
"Because if you are, I already know that. It's his place now."
That was news. And no one had thought to tell him? How, a small, recriminating voice asked. How is anyone supposed to get in touch with you?
Jack looked away, his eyes incredibly tired all of a sudden. He always looked tired when he had to talk to Frank, but this was different. Another kind of tired.
"Ekins is dead."
Something inside Frank froze. All his muscles tensed up.
"Yeah," Jack continued. "He's dead. He's gone. So…" He looked down at Frank and then away again, crossing his arms, pulling his shoulders up.
Frank hated to be the one to make Jack cry. He whined out an apology, even though he knew Jack hated him trying to talk to him in this form.
"I can't do this right now."
Frank knew that; he knew he was being difficult. His being this way was difficult for Jack. He ducked his head.
"Need a ride?" Jack suddenly asked. "I'm not doing this with you tonight, but I'll give you a ride." He opened the trunk, shifted some stuff out of the way, and expectantly waited for him to hop in. "Come on," Jack muttered. He always did.
If only hopping in were that fucking easy. Jack helped when he took a run-up and jumped—his back muscles screaming and protesting the movement. Jack thankfully didn't comment. He simply closed the trunk and got into the driver's seat. Once Frank had settled down, curling up and gritting his teeth through the residual pain from the sudden jump, Jack started driving down to the condos.
"I had a beer with him last night, not sure if you came by. Introduced him to Hutch's. He's a doctor. Michael Robinavitch, but he goes by Robby. Good guy. Nice."
Frank let Jack's soothing voice wash over him. He drifted a little, as he always did when Jack was there to make him feel safe. It reminded him of years ago, when Helen would bring him home with her and Jack would tell him about his day. They'd have a beer and a laugh and watch a game and tell each other about their days. Jack's voice had been calming then, like Helen's had been. It still was.
"He saw you. I told him not to be afraid of you."
Jack fell quiet with a sigh. Gravity pulled at Frank's body in the curves, this way and that way. He was a sailor on a ship at sea, getting pulled to port and starboard.
"With Ekins dead," Jack began at some point, but the sentence trailed off into nothing.
Jack was, Frank knew that, an odd kind of optimist. With Ekins dead, things could change, was that what Jack was hoping for? For Frank to suddenly become better? Only, Frank's guilt didn't lessen with Ekins' death, did it? Ekins' death didn't matter, Frank still felt…
Ekins no longer paid for what he'd done, now Frank was the only one left.
It felt lonelier than before.
They came to the condos sooner than Frank would have liked. The buildings had their own kind of smell; people smells. It smelled of cooking and detergent, perfume, sex, toothpaste, cigarettes, sweat, stale air, and trash. He knew that they'd arrived before Jack pulled into the parking lot and raised his head to see out the window if Cousin Rhett's car was in the lot.
It wasn't, and Frank tried to remember if Rhett had said anything about visiting family or if he had a job elsewhere. Jack parked in his designated spot and killed the engine.
He stayed seated, only undid his seatbelt and started slowly pulling his things together. Frank ducked his head back down and listened as Jack grabbed his keys, unplugged the cell phone, and stuffed everything into his backpack. When he was done, he stayed sitting in the driver's seat.
Frank closed his eyes. Jack smelled like home. His detergent was the same as it had been three, four years ago. His shampoo and shower gel, too. There was a familiarity to Jack that made Frank melancholic. He missed Jack and he missed Helen and he missed… being Frank Langdon.
He startled when Jack suddenly asked, "Do you want to come in? Have a shower, change, eat something, talk?"
The condition, as always with Jack, was that Frank would change into his human form. That he'd put on clothes and eat at the table and tell Jack things about his day. He wasn't sure if he could do that tonight.
"Give the wolf a break," Jack continued.
They both knew what the wolf was doing to Frank, yet only one of them particularly cared.
With a sigh, because Frank could hardly answer yes or no, Jack got out and rounded the car to let Frank out of the trunk. He hopped out quietly, his haunches folded like paper. A quietly muttered curse told him that Jack had seen. The trunk shut with an angry slam.
Frank knew he would be a burden tonight. Even if he did change, if he sat down with his friend, if he borrowed clothes and slept on the couch, he would remind Jack of her. Especially tonight with Ekins so fresh on both their minds.
So, instead of following Jack, he went the other way, to Rhett's place, to see if maybe he was home and had just lent his car to someone. Cousin Rhett, who pretended Frank was a dog and let him sleep on the couch and didn't ask him to get better. Who didn't know the details, who didn't know that Ekins was dead, and who didn't know that someone had moved into the cabin. Who would treat this night like any other.
"See you around," Jack called after him, the way he always did. The rest of his goodbye followed more quietly. "I miss you. I love you. Please think about coming back."
Frank's ears still picked it up.
He was trying.
He thought about going to Jack's and everything that would entail: showering, eating dinner with him, talking, sleeping on the wide couch under Helen's painting. Some of it was easy to imagine, but he was afraid of the guilt that would ramp up when he was there. He hadn't been there for Jack for so long. He was a constant source of worry for the other man. Instead of someone who helped and supported, he was this leech in Jack's life; an open wound, a reminder of Helen.
Cousin Rhett truly wasn't home. The apartment smelled bad on a good day, but when Rhett left, he closed the living room window that stayed open whenever he was home, which made the place smell even less inviting. When Frank pushed his nose to the bottom of the door, he smelled stale air, weed, unwashed dishes, and dust, but no Rhett.
He looked back towards Jack's condo and let out a whine. Maybe he could stay for the night if only to find out more about the stranger.
Jack was working through Ekins' death, too, thinking about Helen. They could share that pain and both reminisce; together. Frank huffed and trotted over to Jack's. Just for tonight.