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Predictably, several hands shot up at once and everyone began yelling questions. I pointed to a young woman in the first row. “Barb,” I said with a nod.
“Mr. Wilder, you haven’t mentioned what role, if any, your parents’ brutal murders and the subsequent scandal surrounding them played in your decision.”
“The loss of my parents did not factor into my decision. And to be clear, it isn’t a scandal. Authorities have found concrete proof of both of my parents’ roles in Megan Yates’ death. They will both need to answer to the sins they so often accused others of being guilty of. Beyond that, I don’t have much to say on the matter.”
I pointed to the next reporter. It went on like that for a good twenty minutes before I glanced at Preston, who nodded and then called a halt to the press conference. Not surprisingly, many of the reporters followed me out of the building, but luckily, Preston had been prepared for that likelihood and had arranged for a cab to be waiting for me. Since I knew the reporters would be congregating at my house, I’d decided to spend a few days at a hotel until the worst of it had died down.
After giving the driver the address, I sank back against the seat and pulled out my cell phone. The press conference had been a live telecast, so I wasn’t surprised to see a text from Brody congratulating me on a job well done. More texts from Ethan and several of the Barretti members I’d met over the past couple of weeks followed. It wasn’t until I saw a text from Everett that I felt the tears start to gather.
Proud of you.
The three simple words were my undoing, and I found myself dialing Everett’s number without even thinking about it. I’d talked to him a few times over the past two weeks. Luckily, Reese had started to get some sensation back, and doctors were certain that after physical therapy, he’d be able to walk again and would eventually completely recover. The treatment for his burns would be ongoing for a while, and Ronan had decided it would be best for Reese to be moved to Seattle so Ronan could oversee his recovery. Even though Reese still wasn’t on speaking terms with Everett, the man had decided to spend the foreseeable future in Seattle to be there if and when Reese finally came around.
If he ever did.
“Nathan, how are you holding up?” Everett asked as soon as he answered.
“Good,” I lied, since I figured the endless crushing pain in my chest didn’t really count as “holding up.”
Luckily, Everett didn’t seem to pick up on anything in my voice because he said, “So you’re headed to your brother’s place soon.”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “Once the shit with the reporters dies down, I’ll get my stuff packed up.”
Brody had invited me to stay with him and Beck and Quinn indefinitely, but I wasn’t sure if that was what I really wanted. I wanted to be closer to him, but since I had no clue what I wanted to do for a living, I wasn’t sure if Montana would be the best place for me. In any case, I’d agreed to go for an extended visit while I figured out what to do next.
“Nathan, you haven’t by chance heard from Vincent, have you?”
Even the man’s name caused an unbearable ache in my chest. I was so fucking pissed at Vincent for telling me he loved me right before he’d walked away from me. But as hard as the words had been to hear, knowing what had been coming, I still clung to them like they were a lifeline of sorts.
“Um, no,” I said. “Why?”
“Oh, nothing…I just haven’t heard from him in a while and he’s not returning my calls. Just has me a little worried, that’s all.”
I sat up. Well, Christ, now he had me worried.
“He’s not returning your calls?” I asked as I glanced at the watch I had yet to take off.
“No,” Everett said. “Not even to check up on how Reese is doing.”
That wasn’t like Vincent at all. My throat felt tight as I managed to say, “I’m sure he’s fine.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Everett said, though I could hear the worry in his voice. “Hey, listen, I have to go but I’ll check in with you soon, okay?”
“What?” I asked distractedly. “Um, yeah, of course.”
Everett hung up, leaving me to stare at the phone. I didn’t even have Vincent’s number to check on him myself. Not that he’d answer or return my calls.
Fuck, what if something had happened to him?
My thoughts drifted to that damn house of his and all the protective measures it had. What if something had failed and he was in trouble? What if…fuck, what if his body…
