“Has it been like that since Reese got hurt?” I asked.
“No. I mean, he wasn’t sleeping great. Nightmares and stuff, but he was sleeping, at least. But since we got back from D.C., he doesn’t even do that. Just watches TV until his body gives out, usually around four or five in the morning. Sleeps an hour or two, then comes out here,” he explained as he motioned with his chin toward Everett.
So it had started upon Reese’s arrival at the house.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
I hated not having answers, but I wasn’t going to pretend that I did and just start throwing shit out there to see what stuck. “I’ll try talking to Reese again.”
“Everett should start coming to dinner again,” Nash announced. “He liked that.”
I wanted to laugh at that. Not the part about Everett, but the way Nash was announcing what he thought should happen. For someone who didn’t talk much, he sure had a lot of shit to say.
“I agree,” I said. “Let me know how it goes when you tell him that.”
Nash frowned at me, but his eyes were light. He wasn’t angry, just… exasperated.
“Maybe if you joined him,” I suggested. I didn’t even feel an ounce of guilt as I used the opportunity to my advantage. God knew I was insanely attracted to Nash, but this side of him? This relatively calm, thoughtful side? I couldreallyget on board with this Nash.
When he didn’t respond right away, I said, “It’s dinner, Nash. Not a commitment ceremony.” I nudged his shoulder with mine.
“Yeah, okay, fine. But only if Everett is okay with it. What about Reese?”
I shook my head. “He doesn’t join us for dinner. Eats in his room,” I murmured.
“How’s he doing otherwise?” Nash asked. “He must be hurting.”
I nodded. “He hides it well, but the pain from the burns alone…” I didn’t even want to finish the thought. “It’s a struggle to get him to take his pain pills. Says they make him feel too foggy. I think he doesn’t like not being in control, you know?”
“Yeah, I do,” Nash acknowledged.
I thought back to the information I’d seen in his foster care records. If anyone yearned for control, it was someone like Nash, who’d grown up without it. I was starting to wonder if I was even the right person to be talking to Reese. I suspected the two younger men had more in common with each other than they realized.
Nash began to shift uncomfortably before he said, “I should go check the perimeter. Thanks for the beer.”
I nodded and took the bottle from him. I would have much rather just sat there with him, whether we’d continued talking or not, but I suspected Nash wasn’t the kind of guy who could sit still for too long. “Dinner’s at six,” I said.
He didn’t answer me, but I was okay with that. If the invitation for dinner had just been directed at Nash, I doubted he’d have even considered it. But weave Everett’s well-being into the mix, and he’d barely hesitated.
It wasn’t ideal, but I could work with that.
My eyes drifted to Everett, who was watching Nash head toward the front yard. Then his haunted gaze landed on me before quickly dropping back to the ground.
Yeah, it was Nash’s turn to run the next play. Hopefully he wouldn’t fumble it like I had.
Chapter 16
EVERETT
Two weeks.
Two weeks of complete and utter silence.
God, what if he never came around?
I’d been so certain that Reese would at least budge a little, but after this afternoon’s fiasco, I’d started to accept that it was looking less and less likely. I’d been working in the garden as usual when I’d looked up to see Reese rolling his wheelchair out the patio door that led onto the back deck. Gage had built Reese a wheelchair ramp, so I’d thought maybe he was planning to explore the yard a bit. The pathways were wide enough that he could have checked out the gardens and some of the animal pens without too much trouble. But the second his eyes had landed on me, his jaw had pulled into a frown and he’d turned around. Unfortunately, in the act of maneuvering back into the house, he’d hit his arm on the door and some of the bandaging covering his burn had snagged on the locking mechanism for the sliding door. Seeing that Reese was hopelessly stuck and dealing with the blinding pain, I’d run up to the house to help him.
But the second I’d reached him, he’d snarled at me to stay away from him, then he’d yanked his arm so hardthat the gauze bandaging had torn. He’d somehow managed to stifle the shout of pain he must have felt and had rolled himself inside. I’d wanted so badly to go after him to make sure he hadn’t injured himself even worse, but in the end, I’d sent Gage’s father in my place.
