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I stepped toward him and was glad when he didn’t move away from me. I hadn’t seen him since the previous night, since I’d left early this morning to visit Reese and attend his first physical therapy session with him. Everett’s son was still saying no to the offer to come stay with me while his father was here, but it hadn’t been as vehement this time around. And now that he’d experienced the pain of his first physical therapy appointment, I suspected he was starting to see how long it was going to take before he was back to being able to take care of himself.
I stopped in front of Everett and studied him for a moment. As badly as I wanted to taste him again, not only was I in no condition to do so with my split lip and bloodied face, but I knew it was the last thing Everett wanted. Between the events of this afternoon and last night, I knew I’d fucked up any chance I’d had with him.
Just like I had with Nash.
“Everett, will you do something for me?”
He seemed surprised by the question, but nodded.
“When you see Nash, will you tell him I’m sorry and that I’m done pushing him? I’d tell him myself, but I suspect I’m the last person he wants to see.”
“What if he doesn’t come back?” Everett asked, his voice full of worry. “I tried calling him, but he doesn’t answer. He… he always answers his phone, Gage.”
“He’s coming back. Trust me on that.” I reached up to cup Everett’s face with my hand, since I needed some kind of contact with him. “Everett, I need you to do something else for me. The next time you see Nash, look at him. Really look at him. No matter what he’s saying, or doing. Just look. And then look some more. At some point, you’ll see it.”
“See what?” he asked, clearly frustrated.
“You’re leaving tomorrow to fly back to D.C., right?”
Everett nodded. “It should only take a couple of days.”
“I’ll keep you posted on Reese. Have a good flight and I’ll see you when you get back.” I began to drop my hand, but Everett grabbed me by the wrist and held my palm against his cheek.
“It sounds like you’re saying goodbye.”
I knew what he meant… and he was right. Yeah, I’d see him again when he returned, but things would need to be different when he came back. Even if he and Nash didn’t figure their shit out, I couldn’t risk my heart on this man. I’d been a fool to think I could explore a relationship with him… and Nash. I’d broken Nash’s trust, though I’d never really had it in the first place, and there was no doubt that Everett was looking at me with fresh eyes now.
“I need to go check on Charlie. I’ll text you an update tomorrow after I get done visiting Reese.”
With that, I pulled my hand away and forced myself to leave the room. I could only hope that I wouldn’t end up fucking Everett over a second time by messing things up with his son, like I’d messed them up with Nash.
Chapter 13
Everett
It was well after midnight by the time Nash returned – almost a full twelve hours since he’d driven off. I’d sent him more than half a dozen texts and had probably called twice as many times as that, but he hadn’t responded to any of them. I’d started to doubt Gage’s faith that Nash would return.
I was glad to be proven wrong.
I quickly climbed out of bed and hurried down the stairs. The house was almost completely dark except for the light I’d left on above the stove in the kitchen.
Which was the room I found Nash in.
His back was to me and I could see he’d taken his jacket off, revealing the snowy white dress shirt beneath, along with the shoulder holster that held the gun that he always had with him. At some point, he’d rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal corded forearms. Despite the inappropriateness of it, I found it hard to take my eyes off the smattering of black hair on those arms.
“Not now, Everett,” I heard him say.
The fact that he was using my first name was a big red flag.
“When, then?” I asked as I leaned back against the doorframe.
I saw his arms moving and realized he was opening a bottle of something. I couldn’t see it, but I could hear liquid sloshing in a glass a moment later. Then Nash was lifting a glass full of a healthy dose of amber-colored liquid. He tossed it back in one swift move, then filled the glass again.
I’d never seen Nash drink in the month that I’d known him.
Not once.
“Gage wanted me to tell you that he was sorry and that he wouldn’t push you anymore,” I offered.
