6. Welcome Home #2
"We appreciate that," Johnathon spoke this time.
His hand rubbing up and down on her sister's lower back.
"The medication was doing nothing for her continual weight loss and dehydration.
We almost lost the baby due to it." His eyes held a deep pain.
Iris's heart broke for them both. All this she missed because she ran away.
Only to be pulled back in anyway. "But whatever that tea is, it's the only thing that has helped.
She's not really been able to gain much weight back, yet.
But she can drink the tea, and dehydration is our greatest risk right now. "
Holly stopped suddenly, enveloping her in another hug.
This one was less awkward than the first. "Thank you, little sister.
" Iris could hear the tears in her sisters voice, but when she pulled back, her eyes seemed dry, if a little red.
Silently, they continued on into the formal dining room.
Noticing that everyone was waiting for them.
Both parents were standing impatiently behind their chairs.
Iris inwardly rolls her eyes. How she hated this formality. It's a family dinner, there was no reason to treat it like some affair fit for royalty.
Once everyone was seated, the house staff quickly laid out serving platters along the center of the table. Rich dishes that were more suited for a holiday or special occasion rather than a family dinner. But it was no less than Iris expected. Everyone began serving themselves from the platters.
The gleaming silverware lay untouched beside Iris's plate as she hesitated, the tension in the air stifling.
Without even looking, she could feel the weight of her mother's gaze.
Judging her, mentally prepared to calculate every calorie and berate her for them later.
Timidly, she reached for the salad, spooning a modest amount onto her dish, every movement calculated to avoid further scrutiny.
However, Nash's hand swept over hers, his fingers cool and commanding as they guided more lettuce, more tomatoes, onion, avocado, seeds, more of simply everything onto the fine china before her.
Soon, he smothered the pile of vegetables in a thick, creamy dressing that Iris was sure was only present on the table in case the men decided they wanted it.
Her eyes bulged, but his actions didn't stop there.
He began piling a large helping of roast beef smothered in gravy, garlic potatoes, and carrots topped with butter onto her plate.
Everything smelled so delicious that her mouth watered.
"I know you're not fond of it," he murmured, the timbre of his voice low and compelling, "but you need to eat.
" His words were spoken quietly, as if meant for her alone, yet they carried.
Something she knew was intentional, the words held an undercurrent strong enough to reach the ends of the table.
Her eyes widened, a silent protest that solidified when Nash locked gazes with her.
The hardness in his eyes was unmistakable—a warning she understood all too well.
"What I say goes," he stated firmly, an edge of steel underlying the velvet of his voice.
"I worked hard to get you to this weight.
You've lost two pounds since yesterday, darling.
We can't have that. If you think I didn't check the report, you'd be wrong. "
A devilish smirk played upon his lips, but it dissipated as he glanced around the table, taking in the expressions of shock etched on the faces of her family.
Like an explosion shaking every foundation she ever believed in, she understood what he was doing.
He was taking the blame for her added weight.
She gained the weight while she hid away from him, and instead of standing by while she faced the consequences of her own actions, he decided to protect her.
Letting her mother think that he forced her to gain weight.
Taking on the role of the villain, acting like the controlling man who dictated her appearance.
All for her. Just so her mother wouldn't berate her. Something inside her shattered. No one had ever done anything like that for her. Not even Nash himself, before.
"Are you controlling what she eats now?" Ash's upset voice cut through the thick atmosphere, serrated and biting.
His hands clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles whitening.
"First, you don't let any of us see her for three years, and now she doesn't get a say in what she eats or how she looks?
Do you enjoy making her do whatever you want? "
Nash leaned back, his posture relaxed, almost amused by the accusation. He surveyed Ash with a predator’s casual interest, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "Of course, I do," he replied smoothly.
Ash bristled, anger palpable in the set of his jaw, but Nash continued, unfazed.
"I do want to make sure I have this right, though.
Your hypocrisy, that is," Nash says with a near feral gleam in his eyes.
He was going in for the kill. And Iris knew it was going to be bloody.
"When your mother was dead bolting the pantry and fridge, that was acceptable?
Starving a young girl to keep her looking like a porcelain doll, you had no complaints.
The esteemed Mrs. Blackworth did exactly that, and none of you seemed to care.
My fiancée was starved for her entire life, and you didn't care then.
" Here his voice lost the false amusement, a lethal darkness creeping in.
"But my preference for her to be healthy is suddenly oppressive? "
Ash's face went stark white. His eyes shot open, wide enough to show the whites, his mouth hanging open. He was speechless. Holly, however, seemed less shocked and more resigned. Her eyes stared into Iris's as if she suspected the truth, but hoped to be wrong. Or rather, chose to live in ignorance.
Iris always knew that while their mother focused on her, Holly was not safe from criticism. Her sister's crime was nothing more than remaining silent, living in willful ignorance. As the two sisters sit staring at one another, Iris found she held no grudge against her older siblings.
Her heart and soul were heavy. She doesn't have it in her to hold on to past grievances. No, instead she needed to find a way to survive Nash. Her siblings were small fish when compared to the shark who sat beside her.
Ash's reaction said more than words. It was clear he had no idea about any of it.
At all. And why would he? Iris couldn't help the small flare of irritation at this.
Envy perhaps. Turning bitter for a weak moment.
Iris could admit, at least to herself, that she always wished for the childhood he was given.
As the male heir, he was never expected to keep a slim figure.
His worth never weighed against his physical appearance.
Not like the two daughters who followed him.
And looking at Holly is all someone needed to do to know that she, too, was subjected to a far too restrictive of diets.
Her saving grace was that Holly had a naturally slim figure, unlike Iris's own generous curves.