What had Heath Mitchell done?
He was ready to pull his hair out, for one thing. Granted he'd made some quick choices as of late.
1. took the teaching job at Alliance.
2. broke it off with Nick.
3. he was teaching the very thing he swore he'd never have a thing to do with. RELIGION.
He stood there in the barren apartment that the old priest had found for him. Only 450 bucks a month, internet included. Heat too.
Fuck, what am I doing, he thought. Well, he knew he wouldn't be using that word much longer.
Dead of winter and here he was on the prairie. Alone. And the apartment wasn't new. It was once an old building downtown on the square. Freshly painted. The livingroom was a dark red. He supposed it wasn't that ghastly, but not exactly the first thing he wanted to walk in to. The little kitchen was sunny yellow. Just like the bathroom. And the bedroom with the walk in closet was a dark blue. Perhaps he'd sleep easy. He hoped. But if he did actually go to sleep he'd probably dream of Nick, and it would make him sick. He knew he'd left Nick at the worst time possible. There were all the Christmas plans down the tube. Heath felt like the worst person possible, but he knew he had to go. Had to take this opportunity when it came knocking.
Naturally, none of this made sense to Nick who had told him so. Maybe it wasn't suppose to. But he was here now. Nick was still with his friends and family. They would take care of him. Heath had faith in that. Now he just needed a little faith in himself.