Beard Necessities (Winston Brothers, #7)(15)

For better or for worse, his disinterest in me had disarmed my apprehension and kindled my protective instincts. I could no more stand up and leave this room than I could fly like a bird, and that was that.

A few moments passed and I settled into the rocking chair. It was comfortable enough, as far as chairs go, but nowhere near the most comfortable chair in the house.

I watched Billy’s broad shoulders rise and fall in a steady rhythm, hoped that meant he was sleeping, and nearly relaxed myself when Billy’s voice—rough and quiet with sleep—said, “You’re confusing me, Scarlet.”

Holding perfectly still, waiting, I worried he’d say more. I didn’t want this to turn into one of our arguments, our epic shouting matches followed by his cold shoulder. I wanted Billy to be nice, to let me take care of him, to let things be. Just this once. Please. Just let me do this.

He didn’t say anything else. He slept. I watched him sleep, determined to keep the monsters away.





Chapter Three





Billy





“He shrank from hearing Margaret's very name mentioned; he, while he blamed her – while he was jealous of her – while he renounced her – he loved her sorely, in spite of himself.”

Elizabeth Gaskell, North and South





The sun had set and risen since her visit. Now it was morning, or maybe afternoon, I wasn’t certain. I couldn’t read the light coming through the edges of the drapes, it was different here.

Mildly curious, I stood with effort and limped to the sliding glass door. Walking up those stairs yesterday had cost me. My body stiff and protesting, I pulled open the curtains and squinted, turning my face away from the sudden flood of brightness. Stepping back, I blinked, waiting for my sore eyes to adjust.

The repeated buzz-buzz-buzz of my phone from somewhere in the room had me turning from the blinding view and searching. Tired as I’d been yesterday, it had taken me a while to fall asleep with her in the room. When I did, I’d dreamed of nothing. And when I awoke at some point in the dark, the irritating rocking chair had been empty.

At the time, I’d worked to ignore the pang of senseless disappointment and set about a few necessary motions: using the bathroom, brushing my teeth, charging my phone to check if Roscoe had called and so I’d know the time, changing into more comfortable clothes. My hip and back had hurt so I’d taken something to dull it. I’d gone back to bed but hadn’t been able to sleep.

Now I was limping around the room, trying to remember where I’d set my phone. Eventually, I found it on top of the dresser where I’d plugged it in last night. Frowning at the screen, my hovering thumb ready to reject the call, I straightened, surprised by the identity of the caller. Accepting the call, I brought the phone to my ear.

Before I could say hello, she said, “Billy.”

“Dani.”

“Your phone has been going to voicemail for two days.”

I glanced around the room, not noticing the surroundings in my search for a seat. “My phone was off. It was, uh, dead. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I called Cletus, he said you made it to Italy and were with Jethro, so I knew you were okay.”

Ignoring the rocking chair, I walked to the bed, sat on the edge of it. “Were you worried about me?”

“A little.”

I’d asked the question mockingly, so my initial reaction to her admission was surprise. Daniella—Dani—Payton wasn’t a worrier. She was a bulldozer, and I admired the hell out of her for it. Since the initiation of our mutually beneficial engagement, she’d never reached out to express worry for me or concern about my well-being.

“You’re surprised?” she asked, not sounding offended, more like curious. “I’m not trying to nag you.”

“I know you’re not trying to nag me.” I would never accuse her of nagging. She didn’t call. Ever. I was always the one reaching out to her to discuss planning and logistics, make requests for her attendance at this function or that benefit, not the other way around. “I should’ve called and checked in. I am sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. We don’t do that with each other. Hey, did you eat something?”

Oh. That’s why she’s calling.

“Did Cletus tell you to ask me that?” I grumbled, shaking my head. I loved my brother, but he was definitely a nag.

“Yes, he did. He wanted to make sure you are eating, because he said the day before you left you didn’t eat anything, and then when you arrived, Jethro told Cletus—”

“I can’t believe them.”

“Who?”

“My siblings. They’ve created a phone tree to discuss my eating habits.”

“I guess they did.” Dani laughed. She had a great laugh, but it always sounded reluctant, like she didn’t really want to share that part of herself with anyone. Or maybe she didn’t want to share that part of herself with me. “But can you blame them? They’re worried.”

“They shouldn’t be,” I said, thinking, I’ve been through worse.

“That’s a silly thing to say. Your family loves you, of course they’re going to worry.”

“Lack of appetite is a known side effect of the anesthesia they used for the procedure. Happened the last time too.”