Page 22 of Forever Wild
Dad sits up with a groan. He looks like shit. He needs a shave anda haircut, definitely a shower.
“I’m sorry Coach called you. He shouldn’t have done that. I know how busy you are. You don’t have time to be driving up and taking care of me. Let me make you a cup of coffee for your trouble.” He stands, wobbling on his feet.
I get to my feet instinctively and move toward him, catching him when he sways. My knee protests with a twinge of pain that makes stars dance before my eyes.
“Oops. I think my leg is still asleep. I better sit down again for a minute, then I’ll get the coffee.”
I situate him and adjust his weight so my left leg isn’t taking the bulk of the pressure. “I don’t need any goddamn coffee, Dad.”
The outburst silences him and then I curse myself. Yelling at him in this condition isn’t going to help anything. If it would, then he would have been cured twenty years ago. And it never makes me feel better anyway.
Softening my tone, I say, “You should rest.”
“I’ll do that after you leave. I haven’t seen you in too long.” His eyelashes flutter closed. “I missed my boy.”
“I’m not going anywhere. We can talk later.”
“All right.” Eyes opening, he reaches over and pats me on the shoulder. “Maybe just a little rest. I have steaks in the freezer. Will you stay for dinner?”
“Yeah, of course.”
I convince him to go to bed instead of sleeping on the couch. He’s a little steadier on his feet, but it takes some effort for me to get him to the master bedroom. I give silent thanks, once again, that it’s on the lower level. It wasn’t a selling point I considered when I bought the house for him, but there’s no way I could get him upstairs right now.
On the walls are pictures of me growing up. I doubt he remembers much of my childhood, but he has the photos up like a proud parent anyway.
Once I’ve put him to bed, I close his bedroom door and then lean against it. Letting out a long breath, I grimace through the ache of my knee. Dammit. The last thing I need is to tweak it less than two weeks into recovery.
Movement catches the corner of my eye. In all the commotion with my dad, I’d stopped listening to her moving around upstairs, but here Ev stands, freshly showered and in one of my old hockey T-shirts.
Something stirs inside my chest at the way the fabric hangs off her shoulder and grazes her upper thigh. Her long, wet hair has soaked the right side of her shirt, and like the asshole I am, I notice that she’s not wearing a bra.
“Enjoy rifling through my clothes?” I ask with bite in my tone. It has nothing to do with her taking my shirt and everything to do with my reaction to this whole fucking day. I don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t been here. I’m glad and I’m mad and it’s confusing.
“My dress smells like sunscreen and stale beer, but if you would prefer to see me in my bikini then all you have to do is ask. Should I go change into it? Maybe lather myself in suntan oil for you too?” The challenge in her voice makes me smile. Only on the inside, of course. I’m not sure what would be worse at this point: her strutting around in a bikini or what she’s wearing now. I’m starting to think it doesn’t matter what she has on. Everly is gorgeous and I can’t deny my attraction to her.
Acting on it is a whole different story.
I clear my throat before answering her question. “I don’t care what you wear.”
The tension between us teeters precociously. Her hazel eyes narrow in on me but if she can tell that I’m full of shit, she doesn’t say.
“How’s your knee? Did the peas help?”
“Fine.” I take a step to prove it to her.
“Liar.” She smiles like she’s happy to have caught me exaggerating the truth, but then sympathy splashes across her features. “What can I do?”
“I’ll be fine. I’ve just been on my feet more than I should.”
“Okay.” She straightens. “You sit. I am going to find us something to eat. I’m starving.”
“Order whatever you want. It’s on me.”
“Does this town do delivery?”
Fuck. No, of course not. Nothing good anyway. “There’s a pizza place that does for sure.”
“I don’t mind cooking.” She takes off toward the kitchen.
