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No, I was thinking about two men who knew the truth about me and didn’t seem to care. They’d looked past all the flaws that were a permanent stain on the carefully constructed world I’d built for myself, and they’d still come back for more. They’d still done things for me, not to me.
It was that thought that had me pushing open the door to Everett’s room.
But there weren’t two beautiful, naked bodies tangled up in each other on the bed. There was just Everett, fully dressed, sitting on the edge of the mattress, staring out the window at nothing. And as soon as he looked at me, I knew.
There would be no ripping off Band-Aids today or anytime soon. If anything, I’d be adding yet another one to the new wound I felt opening up deep inside of me.
Everett held my gaze for a moment, then dropped his eyes. There was enough moonlight seeping in through the window to see the shimmer of moisture on his skin. But I couldn’t go to him. It wasn’t what he wanted. Needed, yes… wanted, no.
I quietly closed the door behind me, but didn’t go to my room. Because like before, I needed to keep moving.
Only this time, it was for a very different reason.
Chapter 18
Gage
Three weeks and it was like we were fucking strangers again. It was like that night had never happened. We barely spoke, and we almost never looked at one another.
Because when we did, it only made things worse.
So much fucking worse.
Our families were starting to notice too. My father suspected what the cause was, but he’d backed off when I’d told him I didn’t want to talk to him about it. It’d been a harder sell with Charlie.
Guilt tore through me as I watched my little girl eat her dinner.
Despite the tension between Nash, Everett, and myself, we’d kept up the pretense that all was good by continuing to have dinner together and doing some kind of activity afterward, but Charlie had noticed pretty quickly that our hearts weren’t in it and had started making excuses herself about needing to do homework or wanting to watch TV in her room. When I’d tried talking to her about it, her response had been simple and heartbreaking at the same time.
“It’s okay, Daddy. I know Everett’s sad and that makes you and Nash sad.”
My daughter’s observation had been unerringly accurate, but it had torn at my heart when she’d whispered to me that night that she’d pray to God and Mommy to make Everett happy so we could be a family again.
While her prayers hadn’t exactly been answered, we’d seen some progress in that Reese wasn’t hiding out in his room anymore. He’d started joining us for dinner despite his father being there, though he hadn’t said much. Everett hadn’t spoken much, either, and he’d been almost afraid to look at his son sometimes… like he was scared of sending him running again if his eyes lingered on the younger man even a second too long.
Reese’s physical progress was slowly improving. His burns had healed enough that every move he made didn’t cause him physical agony. His progress with walking was still slow, but he was able to take a few steps with the aid of a walker. He still relied heavily on the wheelchair to get around the house, but he was pushing himself to use the walker more and more for the short walks from his room to the kitchen.
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.
