Of course, Reese hadn’t either.
I’d wanted to show both men what they were missing out on by not being part of a family, but so far, I was failing miserably.
Not to mention, I still hadn’t been able to make things right with Nash.
But mostly because he’d avoided me like the plague.
Until now.
“About what?” I asked, though I already had a pretty good idea. Nash had managed to hold his tongue about it around Reese and presumably Everett, but I could tell the tension between father and son was bothering him as much as it bothered me – more so, even, since he was the one who had to watch Everett suffer when they were in the privacy of the guest house. Outside of it, Everett remained stoic and he interacted with my father and Charlie as he always had, but the enthusiasm wasn’t there.
“That assho—” Nash began, then stiffened and snapped his mouth shut. “Reese needs to fucking man up and get over it,” he finally bit out.
I turned my gaze to study Everett, who was working in the garden. He’d long since moved on to the flower garden. It was late afternoon, so Charlie was helping him pull weeds. Everett was answering my daughter’s endless questions, but I suspected his heart wasn’t in it. His eyes kept straying to the window of the guest room Reese was staying in. It was the only bedroom on the first floor and had a nice view of the back yard, a fact that I’d hoped might help remind Reese that his father was still very much human and suffered from human emotions like the rest of us. He’d have to be blind not to notice the toll things were taking on Everett. The older man looked like he’d lost some weight, his skin was perpetually pale despite spending most of his time in the sun each day, and there were dark circles under his eyes.
I looked back at Nash, who hadn’t moved. Tired of craning my neck up at him, I said, “You mind telling me what I should be doing while you’re sitting down, Nash? Don’t really need a crick in my neck, you know?”
Nash harrumphed, but did as I said and sat down.
Next to me, amazingly enough.
I’d been working all day on trying to get the ramp for the back deck built so Reese could get his wheelchair into the back yard if he wanted to explore.
Assuming he ever decided to leave the safety of his room.
As brutal as Reese’s physical therapy sessions were, his progress was slow. But his therapists had told him that pushing himself too hard would just cause more damage. I’d known he’d been overdoing it at therapy so that he could escape my house and his father sooner, but I had a feeling he’d taken the warning he’d received today to heart. And while he hopefully wouldn’t need the wheelchair for too much longer, I’d rather he had as much freedom as possible to get around, rather than not enough.
“Believe it or not, my power of persuasion doesn’t always work,” I remarked, which earned me a snide look from Nash.
“No shit,” he muttered.
I smiled at that, but then sobered when my eyes fell on Everett. What if I’d fucked this up too? Like I’d fucked up the approach I’d taken with Nash?
“I’ve tried talking to Reese a couple of times about his father and why he’s so pissed at him, but he shuts me down every time. If I push too hard, he’ll walk,” I said. “No pun intended,” I added. I glanced at Nash and softly said, “I get it wrong sometimes, Nash. You’ve seen proof of that firsthand.”
He stiffened next to me, but fortunately, he stayed where he was.
“I don’t want to fuck this thing up with Reese and Everett. It’s too damn important. But I’ll admit it, I’m flailing a bit here.” I scrubbed my hand over my face before saying, “So if you’ve got any ideas, I’m all ears.”
He didn’t speak for a long time and I fully expected him to get up and walk away. But he didn’t. He just sat there for several long minutes before he said, “What do you mean, get it wrong?”
“What?” I asked.
“You said I’ve seen firsthand that you get it wrong sometimes. That day that you and I… that I… how did you get it wrong? You accomplished what you set out to do.”
I knew he was talking about the day we’d fought and he’d punched me. My bruises were just now starting to fade. The cut on my lip was gone, but the gash beneath my eye was still scabbed over.
“What I set out to do?” I asked, completely confused.
Nash began drumming his fingers on his leg. “You wanted to humiliate me. You wanted to prove you could get to me.”