His eyes fixated on the Cupid’s bow shape of her full lips and found himself biting his own at the temptation to kiss her. That’s what he was thinking when he noticed her eyelids flutter.
Slowly she blinked them open and squinted against the dim light of her bedside lamp. Gideon was sitting beside her at the edge of her bed. He was watching her lips. She blinked away the temptation to reach out and touch his face in response to his intimate gaze.
“Gideon?”
“I’m here.”
“What happened?”
“You happened. How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a train—repeatedly.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry to lay this on you, but the Senator said he wants to see you in his study in,” he stopped to check his watch, “thirty-five minutes to discuss matters.”
“Sirus?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
Meg searched the eyes of the man leaning over her. “Which of you is in front?”
He shrugged, “I think we both are.”
“That’s amazing!” Meg raised her voice with excitement loud enough to jar herself. Her hands immediately went to her head and held her temples tightly.
“Ow.”
“How about some aspirin?”
“And a shower,” she added.
“That too.”
Meg gingerly moved to a sitting position then stopped and whispered. “Did it work?”
“Arkdone is furious that he didn’t win the nomination, if that’s what you mean,” Gideon/Sirus whispered back.
“Oh, poor guy,” she shook her head stiffly before bursting into a quiet smile. She moved to stand, but wobbled precariously on her feet. Gideon/Sirus caught her elbow smoothly and walked with her toward the bathroom.
“What am I supposed to call you when you’re both here?” Meg cocked her head as she looked up into his warm, milk-chocolate eyes, a pleased smirk pressing her lips.
“How about you just call me Niche,” he smiled back.
“Not Girus? Or Sideon?”
“No, 'Niche' rhyming with 'peachy' is bad enough.” He chuckled at her playfulness and wondered for the umpteenth time that night what he would have to do to get to stay in her life. Niche was completely in love with Meg.
6 The Prodigal Son
Evan’s mother was waiting for him in the living room. Theo was snoring softly as he sat up on the sofa beside her wheelchair. His reading glasses were still sitting at the tip of his nose though his head had fallen back. A U.S. news magazine had slipped from his fingers into his pajama-clad lap.
Margo looked up from her book to watch her son open the fridge and grab a cold bottle of water before coming into the room.
“Evan, thank God you’re home. I was worried about you.”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Evan mumbled as he sat in the chair opposite his mother and began carefully peeling the label off the bottle in his hand.
“You look exhausted,” she frowned, peering through the dimly lit room at the dark circles around his eyes.
“I am.”
“Listen, what we need to talk about can wait until morning. Why don’t you get some sleep?” She took a moment to breathe deeply then added, “Maybe we all just need a good night’s sleep.”
“Okay,” Evan moved to stand. He had planned to sleep in the bathtub thinking that there were fewer flammables there but before he turned away he heard his mother’s voice.
“Evan?”
“Yes, ma’am?” He answered respectfully out of habit.
“Would you help me into bed?”
Evan was taken aback. He hadn’t expected his mother to trust him to be near her as he hadn’t touched her since the day he showed her he was a fire starter.
As he thought, his mother began to fidget with the corner of her book and gnaw on her lip. “You don’t have to, Evan. Theo can help me.” She moved her chair to scoot closer to the sleeping doctor to wake him. “It’s just his back has been bothering him lately. He really shouldn’t be sleeping like this on the sofa, but he didn’t want me waiting alone for you out here.” She was chattering through her sadness, just trying to fill the uncomfortable silence. It made Evan realize he was the cause of her uneasiness, just as he was probably the cause of Kylie’s earlier.
Man, your people skills are seriously lacking, he thought. “No, it’s okay Mom. I’ll help you, no problem.”
He moved to unlock her wheels and tried not to notice the soft smile and adoring brown eyes in front of him. He turned to wheel her back to her bedroom, the same room in which he’d torched a chair a couple weeks ago.
With a glance, he noticed his mother had replaced the chair with a new beige one.
“I’m sorry about your chair,” he mumbled, feeling like the heel he was.
“Oh, it was time to get a new one anyway. This one reclines, which helps me sit so I give my backside a rest, distributing my weight more evenly on my spine. I’m thankful to have it.” His mother’s very human admission made Evan feel even worse about the way he’d treated her lately.
“Um, right. Bathroom first?”
“Good idea,” she said turning the chair toward the restroom and wheeling herself in. “I’ll just be a minute,” she called over her shoulder.