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Shaking my head, I watched Sedric walk over to me. He put his arm around me as he spoke, “Hurts doesn’t it?”
“You two are old enough to have kids of your own,” my own grandmother stated as she came out of the kitchen.
“Nope. I’m good.” Sedric said before I could, letting go of me at the same time.
And so, as she looked to me, all I could do was smile. “Nana, children shouldn’t have children.”
“You’re twenty-six, Wyatt.”
“And sixteen at heart,” I replied, making my hands into a heart for her.
She just shook her head at me and walked over to her great-granddaughter. Watching them all together…our family, it felt like old times. The laughter, the silliness…the simpleness of just existing with family. For a brief second, I wond
ered why we weren’t together more often…but that moment was only brief because the answer came a second later. Good times like this were few and far between.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir.” Greyson came up beside me.
“If you’re sorry, don’t?” I said, and he stayed still, the look on his face told me that I wasn’t going to enjoy dinner tonight. “Say it.”
He came up closely, whispering into my ear. “Emilio wants to talk.”
Defiantly not making dinner. Just like that, I’d need to go from Uncle Wyatt, sixteen-year-old Wyatt, to interim boss. Maybe that’s why Ethan pushed everyone else away…it was the way he coped with being the person he needed to be.
“Get Darcy,” I said to Sedric before walking off. My Uncle Neal gave me a quick look, questioning if I needed his help. I merely shook my head. My brother’s burden was mine alone to carry.
EIGHT
“A mighty flame followeth a tiny spark.”
~ Dante Alighieri
WYATT
“I hope this isn’t your death bed confession,” I told him as Greyson placed a chair for me to sit on next to the medical bed my new dog was chained to. He still smelled like burnt flesh, and both of his legs were in thick casts. “Because I haven’t given you permission to die yet, Emilio,” I added as I took a seat.
Trembling, his burnt hand reached up to pull the oxygen mask down. “You really are like your father. He also enjoyed kicking others when they were down.”
“Thank you, I’ll take that as a compliment,” I replied, fixing the handcuffs. “And I hardly call this kicking…haven’t I been an exceptional host? I provided you with a room, medicine, food, and all you do is sleep.”
He huffed and then grimaced. “You’re letting me gather my strength before you torture me.”
“You think too highly of me,” I said, leaning back. “I haven’t tortured you because I’ve been busy and forgot about you. I could care less how much strength you have. I’m a doctor after all, I could keep you alive through the pain.”
“Didn’t you pledge to do no harm?”
“I lied. Shocking.”
He was silent.
“Emilio, they told me you had something to say. If you find yourself no longer able to say it, should I help you?” I looked to Greyson, who brought over my medical bag and placed it at my feet. “Because if need be, I can help you.”
Reaching into the bag, I pulled out a pair of black surgical gloves. Emilio tried to remain calm, but no matter how emotionless his face, he couldn’t hide the fear in his heart, the monitor beeping as his heart rate rose.
“Well? I’m all ears.” I slid the gloves onto my hands.
“There is a shipment my brother had coming in,” he said.
“Coming in where? Here?” I questioned.
