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Regan got it.
She busied herself in the kitchen and pasted a smile to her face. Her skin felt plastic, and her nerves were shot. She had no idea if she’d overstepped and things were about to go south. Or if she’d somehow managed to bring a sort of clarity to the situation.
She knew things weren’t wonderful between Wyatt and his father, but they seemed so good lately. And she knew Wyatt loved Darlene, so maybe if…
Maybe if what? This was dumb. So dumb. What the hell had she been thinking? But that right there was the problem. She hadn’t been thinking. She’d been flailing around, trying to come up with a way to convince Wyatt to stay.
She wasn’t good at this sort of thing.
John and Darlene sat at the island, which Wyatt discovered after he hung up his jacket and took exactly two steps into the house. He froze. Got that weird look on his face. The one that told Regan he had no idea what was happening, and he was not exactly happy about it.
“Hey,” he said, when he recovered his senses. He looked at Regan, a questioning look on his face.
“I thought, um, since we had so much stew left that it would be nice if John and Darlene joined us for dinner.”
“Really. Dinner.”
“Yes. Dinner.”
Wyatt stopped a few inches from her, his expression now closed off. She couldn’t read him, and that made her nervous.
“If I’d know we were having company, I would have stopped and picked up some wine.”
“Don’t be silly,” Darlene said. “We’re fine.” Her voice was bright—too bright—and Regan cringed.
Wyatt gave Regan another look that made her uncomfortable and headed for the bathroom. “I’m just going to wash up.”
He disappeared down the hallway, and she exhaled, tucking back a long piece of hair with shaking fingers.
“You don’t look so good, dear.”
She glanced up at Darlene. She felt awful. Using them like this. Knowing things might end badly for all persons involved. Knowing she just might be on the verge of losing everything she wanted. Hell, she didn’t even have a plan. Not really.
“I’m okay. No worries. Maybe we should sit at the table?”
She got busy grabbing plates and cutlery, while Darlene helped John over. He seemed shaky to her, short of breath, and that was a worry. But it was something she couldn’t think about at the moment.
Wyatt joined her in the kitchen. “Kind of weird. You inviting them for dinner…tonight.”
She shrugged and tried to keep her voice light. “I just thought it would be nice.”
“Bullshit.” His voice was low, dangerously so, but she heard the anger there. “Nice and Blackwell family gatherings don’t exactly go hand in hand.”
“Why not?” she asked, kind of surprised to hear the words come out of her mouth. But once they were out there, she didn’t back down. If this was going to hit the fan, it might as well
hit now instead of dragging on.
“Excuse me?”
She folded her arms. “Why are things always so hard for you and John? Why the distance? Why the anger and resentment?” She paused, watching him closely. “Why the blame?”
He looked over her shoulder at his father and Darlene. “You want to do this now? With them here?”
No.
“Yes, Wyatt. I guess I do. Considering you’re off to Daytona tomorrow, I’d like to do this now.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously, and he took a step back. He was angry. No denying that. His hands fisted at his sides, and he shook his head. “Unbelievable. When I see Hudson, I’m going to kick his ass all the way to fucking Daytona and back.”
