Malcolm (Henchmen MC Next Generation 2)

"Coffee?" I asked, already reaching for a cup, too full of nervous energy to stand still just yet. "Cream, no sugar, right?" I asked, making it without confirmation since I had a steel trap memory for details like that.

"Do you have a minute?" Glen asked when I dropped the coffee and immediately reached for a cleaning rag.

To that, I stopped, took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and released slowly, focusing back on Glen.

Glen and Shep had been best friends for ages. They were similar in build—tall, fit—but where Shep had lighter features with his dirty blonde hair and blue yes, Glen had brown hair and brown eyes. He was, if it wasn't too mean to say, attractive, but unremarkable. He was guy-next-door attractive. Not someone you openly lusted after, but someone you could see yourself settling down with.

But he had this obsession with wearing this thoroughly underwhelming combination of cargo pants and bowling shirts. Some of the shirts were better than the others. This one, though, was pretty rough with its gray and maroon stripes.

The poor guy just needed a woman in his life to point him toward less atrocious fashion choices.

"Okay," I said, giving him a small smile. "I'm ready," I added.

"I wanted to talk to you about Shep and work."

"Alright," I agreed, knowing Shep had been doing as much of the paperwork as possible. He'd seemed to amp it up, even, since my attack. Like he felt like he wasn't doing enough for me, so he was trying to do what he could just in life in general.

"I didn't expect him to come back in the business so soon," Glen said, cradling his coffee.

"I'm not sure he was planning on ever coming back," I said, shaking my head. "He was in such a dark place. I'm not used to seeing Shep dark, y'know?"

"Yeah, he's always been so laid-back," Glen agreed.

"Yeah. It was hard seeing him like that. Not that any of this is about me, of course. But it just hurt to see him losing himself. And I can't imagine how awful that must have felt for him. I figured maybe work would remind him of who he is, what he had to look forward to in the future."

"I can see that. Shep was always the hardest worker I've ever met."

"Do you think he's working too hard?" I asked. "I noticed he's been putting in a lot more hours lately. I think he feels bad because I am doing so much."

"He has been working a lot," Glen agreed, nodding.

"If you think it is too much, I can try to talk him into taking it easier." I mean, he most likely wouldn't listen to me, but I could try, right? I didn't want him to burn himself out when he had so much healing still to do.

"It's not that, Holl," Glen said, shaking his head, inspecting his cup of coffee.

I knew that gesture too well.

That was the "this is hard to say, and I don't want you to get upset, but it needs to be said" gesture.

I felt like I'd been using it non-stop the past few months.

So, so, so many uncomfortable, but necessary talks.

"Hey," I said, taking a breath to steady my swirling stomach, then leaning my forearms down on the counter, putting my face close to his. "It's okay. You can tell me. I know that this is hard on all of us. Even if we feel like we're not allowed to feel that way."

To that, his head popped up, holding my gaze, returning a wobbly, lopsided, sad smile to my encouraging one.

"I think he's taking too many meds to handle the paperwork, Holl."

"What?" I gasped, my heart flying up into my throat.

Too many meds to handle simple paperwork?

Could that be possible?

Had I overlooked a budding addiction?

It wasn't impossible. He had several doctors who prescribed a lot of medications. And since he was able to do so, I let him handle his own medications. I just picked them up and handed them over to him. He did the rest. I wasn't even one-hundred-percent sure of what he was on anymore.

Except, yes, I knew he took pain medicine.

"Don't freak out," Glen demanded, voice soft.

"Did he seem, you know, high to you?" I asked in a hushed voice, not wanting anyone to overhear. "The last time you saw him?" I added.

"I don't know. I mean, he seemed off. But the man is hurting. I figured maybe it was that."

"But?"

"But, I'm seeing mistakes in the paperwork. In the billing," he added, voice graver. "There can't be mistakes in the billing, Holl," he said, eyes closing.

"Oh, God," I whimpered, bringing my hands up to bury my face in. "How could I have missed this?"

"You're working yourself to the bone here. And then taking care of Shep. And then you got hurt and have been healing too. You can only do so much. Notice so much."