Afew of his family smiled, and those with partners shifted toward their people if they weren’t already standing beside them. A silent communication that perhaps it was their bedtime, too. Lovell’s eyes lingered on Stone, who slid his arm around Juliana’s waist, then leaned down and said something quietly in her ear before kissing her temple. She nodded and rested her head on his shoulder.
He’d gotten used to the closeness, the intimacy, between his brothers and their partners—fiancées—but sometimes, at odd moments, it struck him how far they’d all come. And how far some of them had to go. Life was a never-ending journey, and while he didn’t believe that having a significant other always meant happiness, or was some magical sign of emotional growth, the way his brothers did it, it was.
Shifting his attention to Daphne, he watched as she took a bite of her sandwich. She chewed slowly, as if testing her stomach. But if the way her eyes drifted closed was any indication, she was also savoring the sharp, melted cheddar. Grateful for something as simple as a hot sandwich.
North and Wesson were the first to say good night, followed by Kendall and Monk. Only he, Callie, Philly, and Amber remained when she took her last bite.
“I might need help showering,” Daphne said, holding up her bandaged hands. Hawkeye had given her plastic bags to cover them, but from experience, that didn’t make showering any easier. Holding a damn bar of soap was tricky when wrapped in wet plastic and fighting off pain. He handed her a couple of ibuprofen with another glass of water, but he doubted that would do much more than take the edge off.
“Gabe and I will take the room beside yours. I’ll help you,” Callie said.
“You need to rest, Callie,” Daphne countered.
“I can help,” Amber chimed in, taking Daphne’s empty plate and glass.
“I need to help,” Callie insisted.
Lovell couldn’t help but think Callie was a day late and a dollar short with her offer. Where had she been when Daphnereallyneeded help?
“Why are you glaring at my sister?” Daphne demanded.
His eyes flickered to her, then to the fire. “Not glaring.”
“That was a glare.”
“Maybe we should get you to bed,” Amber interjected.
He felt the weight of Daphne’s attention in every rigid line of his shoulders. The longer she stared, the tighter the energy inside him coiled. He didn’t want to have this fight, not now, not ever. But the way his body felt, as if ready to pounce, said otherwise.
“I think Lovell has something he needs to say,” Daphne poked.
He shook his head.
The sharp inhale was all the warning he got before she took her opening shot. “I am beyond exhausted. I’ve been tased, heldcaptive, and I trekked through a blizzard. If you’re feeling guilty about me getting caught up in this, I understand. I don’t agree, but I get it. I even appreciate that you were worried. What I don’t understand, and don’t accept, though, is your anger. If anyone has a right to be angry, it’s me. So if you have something to say, say it.”
Her shots hit the mark. He was feeling all those things. And he wanted to tear the world apart and hunt down Weeks and Beeker for what they’d done to her and then do the same to Daisy for starting all this shit. But he had another reason for his anger, too. Callie was supposed to protect her. They’d talked about it, they’d agreed on it, they’d made a plan. Instead, she’d taken a fucking nap. He wasn’t about to point that out, though. He’d piss off both Philly and Daphne, and it wasn’t something they’d resolve right now, anyway. “Nothing needs to be said,” he bit out.
“He’s pissed because I was asleep when you were taken. I don’t blame him,” Callie said, her voice quiet but steady.
Daphne whipped her head around to meet her sister’s gaze before her eyes flickered to Philly, who nodded.
“That’s dumb,” she said, turning her attention back to him.
“Dumb?” Lovell repeated, outrage thrumming dangerously through his body. She’d almostdiedand it wasdumb?
She met his gaze. “Yes, dumb. Stupid, idiotic, foolish, dense, dull, moronic. You get the picture.”
He blinked. “You are a piece of work,” he muttered, looking back to the fire.
“I’m a lot of things, James Church,” she said. He jerked at the sound of his real name. No one but Helia used it these days. “But ifIdon’t blame my sister,youdon’t have the right to.”
“You’re going to tell me how I can feel now?” he snapped back.
She rolled her eyes. He was dimly aware that the other people in the room had gone completely still. He was also aware that both their reactions weren’t quite reasonable. The emotions of the day, the ones he’d pushed aside as he focused on searching for her and the ones she’d suppressed as she fought to survive, were boiling under the surface, waiting to break free. Either tears or a good fight would do the job, and she seemed intent on the latter.
“Blame is a reaction—a verb or noun—with an object attached to it. ‘You’ is the subject, ‘blame’ is the verb, ‘Callie’ is the object. It is not a feeling. You feel angry or sad or nervous or guilty or whatever, but you don’tfeelblame. So no, I’m not telling you how tofeel, but I am telling you that blaming my sister is dumb.”
“She fucking fell asleep when she was supposed to be protecting you!” he all but shouted back.
