Sebastian, the man with the most responsible job of anyone I know, lowers his head, twiddles his fingers, and says, “Murrrrder” in the world’s worst Scottish accent.
His girlfriend slaps his arm. “We talked about this. It’s sabotage only.”
“That’s no fun to say in the accent, though,” says the man who literally flies planes for a living. He turns to hug the teenagers. “Hey Beckett, hey Drea-Rea.”
“Anyway,” Birdy says once everyone has been hugged and kissed. “We’re here to keep an eye on the VIPs and coordinate the wild animals. But the VIPs are in the house, and we just helped move the last of the birds into place, so we’re here for our mandated union smoke break.”
Drea brightens. “Does that mean the geese are inside? Did they attack anybody?”
“Not yet,” Seb says. “Give them time, though. Anyway, Wyatt says we earned the good alcohol.”
“In the back.” Wyatt jabs a thumb behind him to the walk-in cooler area, and the off-duty bird handlers join hands and head in that direction.
“Wyatt Rihanna Jones”—
“Not my middle name.”
“—is there non-Rumple Minze in this building?” My voice is low and deadly as I advance on him. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“That alcohol’s for friends only.”
Even if he’s joking, which he’s probably not, that hurts more than it should, so I whip back to Drea. “What was that about an organ era?”
Becks is the one who answers. “That one lasted the longest.”
“Can we not?” Wyatt’s definitely not joking now, and deadpan Drea shocks the hell out of me by wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing him.
He hugs her back, but his expression’s still stern. “Why were you even talking about it?”
“Gossip, duh,” Becks says. “CJ asked about…” She chops her fingers through the air like scissors.
“Sorry, but what’s the organ era?” I ask again. I glance at Wyatt, and shit, I didn’t think it was possible for his face to get even stormier, but it has.
“Wy doesn’t like it when we call it that,” Drea says. “But part of his liver’s inside Mom now. Organ era.”
“Like I said, it was the worst time.” Now Becks is the one hugging her brother. “I’m just glad you’re better now.”
Wyatt clears his throat and says gruffly, “Thanks, kiddo.” He kisses the top of her head, then gives her a little shake. “But don’t you girls have work to do?”
“Yes!” Becks snatches the tray of peppery skewers before Drea can and darts out the door, her sister shuffling afterward.
Once they’re gone, Wyatt blows out a breath and turns to face me. “Okay, we need to—” He stops short when he sees the stunned expression on my face, his brows lowering again.. “What?”
“You…” I suck in a breath and try again. “When did you donate your liver to your mother?”
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t donate all of it.”
“So when you were looking at your mom’s 401(k)…?”
“It was because she needed a transplant but her insurance sucks.”
“And last July when you and Reese…?”
“I was just out of the hospital for the second time.” His body’s so rigid, I don’t know how he’s able to force the words out. “It was a rough recovery.”
“Then in December when you and I…?”
His jaw tenses before he answers. “I was physically fine but mentally still pretty fucked up.” Then he shakes his head and fixes me with a piercing look. “How did you not know any of this? There’s no way Hollis and Liv didn’t bring it up around you. It’s all anyone wants to talk about for almost two years now.”
