Ten Below Zero(66)

We checked into a hotel before dinner with Everett’s parents. I thought it was a little odd to go to dinner with both of them, considering they were divorced, but Everett seemed like it wasn’t a big deal. But it made me curious of Everett’s father, about what Bridget had said.

I dressed in the pink dress I’d borrowed/stolen from Jasmine, the one I’d worn the night I met Everett. When I exited the bathroom, Everett was sitting in the chair by the bed, rubbing his head. I watched him from the doorway a minute, worrying about him. The range of emotions Everett brought out of me ranged from good things to things that hurt. The worrying hurt. I never wanted this, this pull of responsibility, to make another human happy.

His head lifted up and he stared at me, blinking. “You’re not Sarah.”

“No.” A smile ached to spread my lips.

He stood up and walked towards me. “You’re beautiful, you know. I’ve told you before, but you like to shake your head.” He put a hand on the side of my neck. “Stop shaking your head. Let me give you a compliment.”

His hand was warm around my neck and a second later, his other hand went to my waist. My eyes opened when his fingers rubbed there, right over the bandage.

“This is where your tattoo is,” he said, a smile playing on his lips.

I nodded. “Where’s yours?”

“You’ll see it later.”

I frowned, a little annoyed. His finger came to the space between my eyebrows and he rubbed. “Don’t frown. I’d rather see you smile.”

“You said I’d look weird with one,” I reminded him.

“Doesn’t mean I still don’t want to see it. Or be the reason for it.” He dropped a kiss on my lips. “Let’s go.”



When we arrived at the restaurant, Everett’s parents were already waiting. I watched them with interest before the hostess led us to them. His father had his arm over the back of his mom’s seat and was watching her as if she was the only thing in the world he could focus on. His hair was black, like Everett’s, speckled with black and white. Everett’s mom looked soft, youthful. She had pale blonde hair, curled softly around her face. Her eyes were the same blue as her children. When she saw Everett, it was as if something awakened in her. Her smile filled her face and she stood up to hug him. I watched her hold him tightly, as Bridget had, before I turned my attention to Everett’s father.

Where Everett’s mom was warm, Everett’s father was cold unless he was looking at his ex-wife. He didn’t glare daggers at me, but he seemed very impersonal, reaching a hand to me with a little reluctance. His eyes roamed my face without a smile. It was the first time in my life I was self-conscious about my scar.

Everett’s mother hugged me next. The hugging was weird. A comforting kind of weird. While she hugged me, I watched Everett and his father exchange handshakes. It seemed odd again. But I remembered Everett saying his father was distant.

After introductions, I sat down with Everett to my left, putting me directly across from Everett’s mom, Patricia.

Patricia propped her elbows on the table and set her chin on top of her hands while she gazed at her son. There was no doubt of her love for him. And by the way he’d hugged her, there was no doubt of his for her. It made me a little breathless, to be a part of this, to so closely witness a mother and a son who loved each other. Parental love was foreign to me. And this was my first experience, witnessing it so closely.

Everett’s father, who Everett had called by his first name, Robert, had yet to warm up. He drank whiskey in a short glass and when the waiter came by the table, I noticed he asked for another. “Everett will have one too, and-”

“No, actually water is fine,” Everett interrupted.

Robert looked over at him. “I’m buying,” he said, as if that would be the only reason Everett would turn down a drink.

“I’m not drinking,” Everett said, his voice firm. He looked over at me. “Water? With limes?”

I licked my lips and nodded. Maybe the acid from the limes burning my throat would keep my mouth shut from the acid that would want to spill out during this dinner. Judging by the way Robert looked at Everett, it was going to be a long dinner.

When the waiter left, Patricia looked between us. “Everett tells me you’ve been to the Grand Canyon,” she said, looking at me with excitement, her eyes sparkling.

Before I could open my mouth, Everett said, “Yeah, but it was just a big hole in the ground.”

“Oh bummer,” Patricia answered, her forehead creasing in disappointment. I kicked Everett as discreetly as possible from under the table. “We never made it there on our trip. Everett got too sick.”

“When you went to the Four Corners?” I asked, remembering what Bridget had said about visiting there with Everett once before.

“Yes,” she said, smiling wistfully. “It was his wish trip.”

“Waste of a trip too,” Robert butt in. I tried to suppress my shock, but Patricia merely tsked him.

“It was not a waste,” she admonished him.

“It kind of was,” Everett said. I turned to look at him. I wasn’t following the conversation and knew I’d missed out on something.

Patricia sighed but before she could say anything, I blurted out, “Why was it a waste?”