Reid makes a disbelieving noise. “But why Parker?”
Parker looks over his shoulder at us at the sound of his name. His hair is in a loose half-bun, still wet from his morning shower, and his evergreen eyes make me feel like I’m home.
“’Cause he makes me feel safe.”
Reid pretends to puke. “Gross. Don’t call him daddy in front of me.”
Now it’s my turn to almost hurl. “That’s disgusting. Never say that again. I wouldnevercall Parker daddy. Do you call Dante daddy?”
Reid looks anywhere but at me. Oh yuck.
The front door opens to reveal a sloppily dressed Hayden, his face ashen and hair a knotty mess. He pauses at the frontdoor to take off his shoes, wordlessly padding into the kitchen to wash his hand that isn’t ensconced in a neon-green cast. All of us stay quiet, eyeing him with the eagerness of children watching a parent come home late at night.
“Boss?” Dante asks before he shoves a burrito into his mouth.
Hayden clears his throat awkwardly and steadfastly avoids everyone’s gazes, instead shuffling around to pour himself a cup of coffee that Dante so kindly made for everyone. The tension in the room rises a few degrees, finally lowering once Hayden sits himself down at the table opposite Reid.
Trailing his finger over the edge of the cup, Hayden blinks hard a few times, and it’s such a particular, evasive maneuver that I’m not sure anyone else recognizes it for what it is but me. It’s a tic. This man who appears to have it all together, who runs this crew like the captain of a well-oiled ship, is so anxious he’s ticcing. I’d know because it happened to me for years before therapy and medicine brought my daily anxiety to a manageable level. But is it the weight of his leadership role on his shoulders or the loss of Jacob that’s causing the severe anxiety?
“I… Uh.” Hayden stops abruptly and squirms in his seat, shoulder tilting forward, then backward in a jerky, painful-looking movement. “I don’t know what to do.”
I meet Parker’s gaze over Hayden’s head, and Parker looks so distraught, so broken, that my gut tightens and hot shame rolls through me. But Parker holds my gaze, refusing to let me roil in self-pity, because just like I know deep down none of this is my fault, he knows it too. Parker’s strides are sure as he makes his way toward the table, sets his mug down, then sits beside Hayden without a word.
Dante brings a plate of food over to the table, then quietly joins us all as we wait Hayden out.
Reid speaks first. “The attorney, Alexis… Dante spoke to her last night and she’s on it.”
Hayden lets out a bitter laugh. “He’s going awayforever. And Robin isn’t answering my texts. I don’t know what the fuck to do. I just…” Hayden drops his head into his okay hand, looking the perfect picture of a defeated man. “This is all my fault.”
“Uhm, the blame game does no one any good.” Dante reaches over to clap Hayden’s shoulder. He squeezes hard once, then dips down to try to catch Hayden’s gaze where it’s locked on the table. “Hayden, this isn’t your fault.”
Hayden starts to shake his leg hard, causing the table to vibrate. “If I had… If I had done more research. If I had just listened to him when he said it felt wrong, he didn’t like the setup… I just should have fucking listened to him.”
“He told you he didn’t like the setup?” Parker asks, eyebrows furrowed.
Hayden waves a hand. “He always did that when the mission counted on y’all backing me up. He wanted Dante and Reid to start picking up the hacking shifts.”
“What?” Reid gasps.
Hayden blinks four times again, then twists his hand in a hard movement, making the joints crack. He’s about to fucking break. I meet Parker’s gaze again and make furious eyes at him, enough to have him looking a little fearful.
“Hayden?” I ask softly.
Hayden lifts his light blue eyes to mine, as if coming out of a daze. “Oh. Hi.”
“Hi.” I smile at him, the most reassuring smile I canmuster, the kind that Parker always sends my way. “How about just you and I talk?”
Parker holds out a hand to stop us from getting up. “I don’t think that’s?—”
“I’ve got it, Parker,” I say.
Parker quiets and clenches his jaw, muscles wound tight, and just nods in what seems like understanding. I head into the living room with a deep pit of worry in my belly. But halfway there I change directions. I head to my study on the second floor, a place I haven’t been for almost a month now since I no longer have to do all the dirty work for my uncle. I open the door wide, let Hayden walk through, then softly close the door behind us. Hayden looks around for a little while, cataloguing all my books and dipping down to look out the bay windows that face the front yard. He swings back around, neon-green cast making his arm swing heavily at his side, and fixes me with a distrustful stare.
“So?”
“Are you okay?”
Hayden snorts. “I’m fine. I just need…” He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. “I just need to get my shit together, man.”
