“What’s going on?” I asked. “Is Everett in there?”
Nash nodded. “He is.”
I glanced around us. “Why isn’t he in Reese’s room?” Panic flared in my belly. “Did something-”
“No,” Nash quickly interrupted. He dropped his voice. “His son asked him to leave.”
“What?” I asked, not sure I’d heard him correctly.
“When Reese woke up and saw him…” Nash hesitated and dropped his eyes. “It wasn’t pretty.”
Anger simmered through me. “Thanks,” I said to Nash as I opened the door. Everett looked up at me from where he and Ronan were in deep conversation. My steps faltered as I took in Everett’s disheveled appearance. His rumpled clothes were the same ones he’d been wearing yesterday and his hair was all over the place, like he’d been running his fingers through it over and over. His eyes were swollen and red, proof he’d been crying.
I walked over to him and instead of sitting down next to him, I crouched in front of him. I put my hand on his arm. “Talk to me,” I murmured.
The only time I’d ever seen Everett like this had been the few times he’d gotten drunk and allowed himself to truly mourn the loss of my brother. He’d always hidden his grief behind closed doors otherwise.
“They…they aren’t sure if he’ll be able to walk again,” Everett whispered, his voice hoarse.
“He’s strong, Ev. Look at everything he’s been through. Gets that from his father,” I said softly.
Everett nodded and wiped at his eyes.
“What about his other injuries?” I asked. “The burns.”
“They’re mostly on his chest and arms,” Ronan said. “He’ll need skin grafts. It’s going to be a long recovery process.”
My stomach rolled violently, but I managed to quell the urge to vomit. “He’s going to make it, Everett. You’re going to get him home and take care of him.”
Everett began shaking his head. “He won’t let me see him, Vincent. He’s…he’s so angry.”
Frustration went through me as I climbed to my feet. I was heading for the door before I even realized what I was doing.
“Vincent, don’t!” Everett called.
But I ignored him as I left the room. I had one goal in mind.
“What room is he in?” I asked Nash, my voice cold.
“315.”
It took less than a minute to find the room. The curtains on theglass walls were drawn, so I couldn’t see inside. I took a deep breath to calm myself before opening the door. I stilled at the sight of the young man in the bed. His upper body and arms were wrapped in layers and layers of white bandaging. There was another bandage around his forehead. His face was turned away from me at first, but when I stepped farther into the room, he slowly turned to look my way.
“Can I help you?” I heard someone off to my right say.
I glanced at the man I hadn’t noticed at first. I guessed him to be in his early forties or so, with a head of thick, gray hair. He was heavily built. In his hand, he had a cup of water with a straw sticking out of it. He put the pitcher in his other hand down and approached the bed.
“Vincent!” I heard Everett call, though his voice was low. A second later, he was pushing into the room.
Just like that, Reese’s eyes went from pain-filled and tired to sharp and pissed-off.
“Get out,” he said, his cold eyes on his father. “I told you I didn’t want to see you.”
The young man shifted in the bed and immediately stifled a cry of pain. The older man put his hand on Reese’s bandaged shoulder. “Stay still,” he said softly.
“I’m…I’m sorry,” Everett stammered, his voice shaky and uneven. Watching my best friend, one of the most confident, powerful men I’d ever met, transform into an insecure, uncertain man practically before my eyes reminded me why I’d come here.
“Reese, I know you’re hurting-”
