His dirty blond hair's messy from sleep, sticking up in ways that make him look softer than usual. But his shouldersare coiled tight like wire. When he glances over, those blue-gray eyes are unreadable, jaw set in that way that says he's locked down tight. Beautiful even when he's brooding.
"Morning," I say, voice still rough with sleep.
He grunts. "Morning."
He doesn't quite look at me, just goes back to measuring out his supplements with mechanical precision. Silas isn't the warmest, most friendly guy at the best of times. But right now he's like stepping into a blizzard.
Then he surprises me with a soft, "Sorry. I haven't had coffee yet."
Giving him a soft smile, I walk over to the coffee pot and flick it on. He has one of those fancy machines that grinds the beans fresh, so it emits a loud, grating whine as it starts. A few minutes later, the smell of fresh coffee makes my mouth water. Si sits at the kitchen island and sips his protein shake. I pour two mugs, fixing his cup up how I've seen him do before, and slide one in front of him.
His eyes widen with childlike surprise, even though he just heard me brewing the coffee. "Thanks, Scout."
"No problem. It seems like you could use a little."
He ducks his head. "Yeah."
I take the stool next to his and sip my coffee. Si glances at me, smile tugging at his lips, and drinks his coffee in silence. There are a million things that we could talk about. The holiday, our plans for the day, how we're planning to handle things post-hookup. But we both keep quiet, enjoying the moment.
He wolfs down a prepared meal, finishes half of his protein shake, and then pushes up from the counter. As he's doing his dishes, he casts an eye over the broad expanse of windows in the living room. Overhead, the sky is a dark gray, a solid wall of brooding clouds.
"The weather is supposed to be shitty today."
I glance behind me, sighing. "I should stay home and hang out on the couch, but I need to drive to the coast."
He looks up. "What? Why?"
"I need to go to Port Townsend to see my dad. My sister went last week and texted that he's not doing well. I need to check on him. The weather is terrible, but I'll just rent an SUV instead of a car."
"You're planning to rent a car?" He says it like the idea is foreign to him.
I wave off his concern. "Yeah. It's fine. I'll be back tonight."
"No." His voice is flat.
Oh brother. I repress an eye roll. "Silas, I can handle..."
He cuts me off. "The roads up there are bad. They're narrow and windy. You don't drive enough to be safe on them." He sets his shake bottle down with a thunk. "I'm taking you."
"You don't have to do that..."
"Yes I do." He meets my eyes fully for the first time this morning. "It's going to be easier for you to just say yes than to argue with me. I can't let you drive in this weather. Especially not on Valentine's Day."
My mouth goes dry. So he does know about it. I should tell him that being perfectly capable of driving myself is true. But the truth is, relief at his insistence floods me. The roads to Port Townsend twist along cliff edges and wind through dense forest. Every time I make the trip, I white-knuckle the steering wheel the entire way.
"Okay," I say quietly. My shoulders slump. "Thank you."
His jaw ticks like he wants to say something else. But he doesn't. He just drains his shake and goes to get dressed. "We'll leave in 20," he calls over his shoulder before he disappears into his room.
The drive north is tense from the start. We sit in silence except for rain hammering the windshield hard enough to test the wipers. I turn on some jazz really low, but as soon as we get outside Seattle proper and on the ferry, there's so much static that I turn it off again. For his part, Silas is wound impossibly tight. His hands clench the wheel. And his jaw is clamped shut so hard that I worry about his teeth.
He's furious about something, but I can’t begin to guess what. People call him Ice Man. Cold and controlled, never letting anyone see what he's feeling. Right now he looks like that nickname personified. Frozen solid, locked behind walls I can't climb. Does he regret letting his walls down and having sex with me? Maybe he woke up with some clarity about how I'm going to smother him to death.
It's impossible to know with him.
I stare out the passenger window, watching evergreens blur past. As we drive, anxiety builds with every mile that brings me closer to that house. When the road climbs steadily upward, I start to see snow flurries. Not a great sign, but not unusual around here. My dad lives on the coast of Washington, the house nestled snugly on top of a ridge overlooking Port Townsend Bay. When we get through the heavy forest of Chimacum, the sea will be close enough to drive the snow away.
But then I will have to face my father. It's my turn to take care of him. Sable and I trade off, and she visited Port Townsend last.
