But while Reese’s physical condition was improving, Everett’s was declining. He was continuing to lose weight and the obvious lack of sleep seemed to be making it harder for him to focus. The weather had started to turn as fall reached the Pacific Northwest, so oftentimes we were stuck inside. My father had tried to encourage Everett to get out and see the area, but Everett had refused, not wanting someone to recognize him and potentially bring reporters to our door.
I’d kept myself busy by making some much-needed updates to the house and barn. But like Everett, I wasn’t sleeping great either, though I suspected I was struggling more with the constant physical arousal I was battling. Being around Everett and Nash, knowing how both tasted, was akin to torture. It was everything I could do not to touch either man.
I was jerked from my thoughts when I heard Everett’s chair scrape back. “Phillipe, it was delicious, but I hope you don’t mind if I excuse myself early,” he said to my father as he reached for his plate.
His plate which looked like it had barely been touched.
“You need to eat more,” Nash interjected as he closed his hand over Everett’s wrist to keep him from getting up.
Everett stiffened, and I saw a rare moment of anger flare in his eyes. On one hand, it was comforting to see some kind of emotion in the sapphire orbs, but I’d have definitely preferred to see joy or pleasure. “If you’ll excuse me,” Everett repeated, clearly trying to remain cordial.
Everyone at the table had gone completely silent and all eyes were on the two men.
Even Reese’s.
I used the opportunity to study the other man and was surprised to see his fingers tightening around the handle of his fork.
He was angry.
At whom, though?
His father for the quiet outburst?
Or Nash for the way he was holding onto Everett?
Reese hadn’t warmed up to his father in the past few weeks, but he hadn’t verbally lashed out at him either, not like he had the night he’d fallen down in the kitchen.
I willed Reese to say something, anything, that would end this. If he gave his father even the tiniest spark of hope that there was something besides hatred in his heart, maybe…
Fuck, was I just being selfish? Was I just needing this weird stand-off Everett, Nash and I had going on to end?
I almost shook my head right there. No, I wanted it for Everett. I wanted him to know that the suffering he’d experienced from the moment he’d been told about Reese’s close call with death had all been worth it.
Nash was forced to release his hold on Everett. My father cleared his throat and said, “Everett, I can wrap something up for you so you can have it later.”
“No, thank you,” Everett said, forcing a smile to his lips as he stood up. “I had a big lunch.”
“No, you didn’t.”
We all froze as Reese spoke. The fact that he’d said anything at all would have been a good thing, if there hadn’t been an accusatory note behind it. Like he’d been waiting to catch Everett in a lie so he could point it out to everyone.
Everett stood very still for a moment, then carefully picked up his plate. None of us spoke or moved as he took the plate to the sink and set it down next to it. He left through the back door. A second later, Nash was tossing his napkin onto the table. He shot Reese an angry look, then grabbed his plate. “Thank you for dinner,” he murmured to my father. He was gone a moment later. The urge to get up and follow the two men was killing me, but I stayed where I was and settled my gaze on Reese.
But before I could say anything, he pushed his chair back and reached for his walker. “I’m sorry, I’m not feeling well,” he whispered, then he was struggling to his feet. As pissed as I was at him, that damn vulnerability was back, so I climbed to my feet so I could help him stand if he needed it. He didn’t, but he thanked me anyway. He started to make his way back to his room, but then stopped and looked over his shoulder at me. “You’ll check on him, right? Nash is right… he needs to eat.”
I hid my surprise at his words and nodded.
So hehadnoticed his father’s decline.
“Charlie, if you’re still up for telling me about Perseus, let me know.”
I looked at my daughter as Reese slowly made his way back to his room. It wasn’t until he was gone that I said, “Perseus? As in the illegitimate son of Zeus? The demigod who hated his father? That Perseus?”
Charlie shrugged, then began shoveling her food into her mouth. I glanced at my father, who shrugged. “Little Miss Fix-It,” he said.
“Who’s that?” Charlie asked between bites. “You never mentioned that god before, Pépère.”
“She’s new,” my father said. “But she’s making a name for herself, just like her father did when he was her age.”
