Chapter 5 The Voice Beneath the Silence #2
Instead, I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, and said as gently as I could manage: “You should do that more often.”
“It's hard,” he said, the words coming out rough and halting. “But... not with you.”
The admission hit me somewhere between the sternum and the solar plexus, in that space where hope lived alongside all the reasons it was dangerous to feel it.
“Then I'll be here,” I said, and meant it with every fiber of my being. “However long it takes.”
The promise hung between us, heavy and warm, and for a moment I thought Evan might say something else. Might trust me with more words, more pieces of himself.
Instead, footsteps on the stairs broke the spell, and a voice I didn't recognize called out: “Evan? You up there?”
Evan's entire body went rigid, his face cycling through expressions I couldn't read before settling on something that looked suspiciously like dread.
“Alaric,” he muttered, and the name sounded like a curse.
The door swung open without a knock, and a guy about our age stepped into the room like he owned it.
“Interrupting something, am I?” Alaric said, his gaze sliding from Evan to me with the lazy assessment of someone sizing up prey.
“Get out,” Evan said, his voice flat and dangerous in a way I'd never heard before.
“Relax, cousin.” The word dripped with sarcasm. “I just came by to see if you wanted to come to the lake with the others. But I see you're...” His eyes lingered on me with something that might have been amusement. “Playing therapist.”
The casual cruelty in his tone made my skin crawl.
“I said get out.”
“Come on, Evan. Don't tell me you've found someone who actually believes the strong, silent act is charming?” Alaric's smile was all teeth and no warmth as he looked at me. “How long do you think that'll last once he realizes what you really are? What this family really is?”
Warning bells started ringing in my head, but I kept my expression neutral. “I think I can make my own judgments about people.”
“Oh, can you?” Alaric settled against the doorframe like he was planning to stay a while. “That's adorable. Tell me, what exactly do you think you're getting yourself into here? Playing savior to the broken bird?”
“Alaric.” Evan's voice cracked like a whip, and I saw something flicker in the other boy's eyes that might have been surprise. “Leave. Now.”
For a moment, the two of them stared each other down, some kind of silent communication passing between them that I wasn't privy to. Then Alaric shrugged, pushing off from the doorframe with lazy grace.
“Just looking out for you, cousin,” he said, but his eyes were on me. “Wouldn't want you to get too attached to something temporary.”
He disappeared down the hallway, leaving behind the scent of expensive cologne.
“Friend of yours?” I asked, trying to inject some lightness into the suddenly heavy atmosphere.
“Cousin,” Evan said shortly.
Evan looked like he wanted to say something else, but footsteps on the stairs interrupted him again. This time, they were heavier, more measured, and I knew without looking that Daniel was coming to check on us.
“Boys,” he said from the doorway, his gaze taking in the tension that still lingered in the air. “Everything all right?”
“Fine,” Evan said, but his father's eyes narrowed slightly, like he could smell the lie.
“Why don't we take a walk?” Daniel suggested, though it didn't really sound like a suggestion. “The evening air might do us all some good.”
Outside, the sun was starting to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that made the forest look like it was on fire. Daniel led us down the gravel drive, past the lantern posts that were beginning to glow in the gathering dusk.
“Those wildflowers were my wife's,” he said, gesturing toward a patch of purple and yellow blooms that had gone wild along the edge of the property. “She said they'd bring butterflies.”
There was something in his voice, a careful flatness that didn't quite hide the grief underneath.
“They're beautiful,” I said.
“She was a gardener,” Daniel continued, his pace slow and measured. “Always planting things, always believing they'd grow even when the soil seemed too poor or the weather too harsh. Sounds familiar, doesn't it, son?”
Evan's cheeks went pink, but there was fondness in his expression. “Mom always said the stubborn ones were worth the wait.”
“That she did.” Daniel's smile was soft around the edges. “She'd have liked you, Nate. Would've probably adopted you on the spot and started planning elaborate dinner parties just to watch you two pretend you weren't completely smitten with each other.”
“Dad,” Evan groaned, but he was almost-smiling.
I laughed, surprising myself with how natural it felt. “Sounds like she had good instincts.”
“The best,” Daniel agreed. “She used to tell Evan that the right person would see past all his carefully constructed walls and love what they found there. Guess she was right about that too.”
The casual acceptance in his words made my throat tight with emotion I wasn't prepared for.
“You're embarrassing him,” I said, glancing at Evan, who was studying his shoes with intense concentration.
“Good,” Daniel said cheerfully. “He needs more embarrassment in his life. Too serious, this one. Always carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.”
“Someone has to,” Evan muttered.
“No,” Daniel said, his voice gentle but firm. “Someone has to care. There's a difference. And caring doesn't mean you have to do it alone.”
He stopped walking, turning to face both of us with an expression that managed to be both paternal and authoritative.
“My son has spent too many years believing that keeping people at arm's length was the only way to protect them,” he continued. “And maybe that was true, for a while. But watching him with you, Nate... it's the first time in years I've seen him remember what it feels like to be seventeen.”
Evan's head snapped up, his eyes wide with something that might have been panic. “Dad—”
“Let me finish.” Daniel's tone brooked no argument, but there was warmth underneath the authority. “I know you're scared. Both of you. This place, our family, we come with complications that most people can't handle. But some people are strong enough to carry those complications alongside us.”
He looked directly at me, and I felt the weight of his assessment like a physical thing.
“You've been patient with him,” Daniel said. “You've earned his trust, which isn't something he gives lightly. And more importantly, you've made him laugh. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've heard my son laugh?”
My chest tightened with the casual revelation, with the knowledge that something as simple as making Evan smile had been noticed and treasured by the man who loved him most.
“He's easy to care about,” I said quietly.
“Yes, he is. But not everyone sees that.” Daniel reached out and clapped a hand on Evan's shoulder, the gesture both protective and proud. “You do, though. You see him, really see him, and that's worth more than you know.”
We walked the rest of the way back to the house in comfortable silence, but the air between us felt different now. Lighter, somehow, like Daniel's approval had lifted some invisible weight I hadn't realized I'd been carrying.