You all know the disclaimers by heart, right? Say it with me: Not mine. And thank you, as always, for the reviews, and for sticking with this endless story.
Chapter 22Seth sat glumly behind the wheel of the Rover, fingering his aching chin and wincing as he rotated his jaw a few times. He glanced at Ryan, who was staring straight ahead. An icepack rested on his swollen knuckles, and he shifted uncomfortably, adjusting his arm in a new, rigid sling.
"Okay, dude. I do have one piece of good news," Seth announced with a tentative grin. "Turns out, I can still talk."
Ryan's eyes slid over for a moment, reluctantly amused. "Yay," he said, twirling his index finger. "And the whole world rejoices."
"Well, yeah, you would think. Unfortunately, there's some bad news too."
Ryan's half smile disappeared. "Yeah. I figured." He nodded and turned to look out the window.
"Hey, I've really tried, man. But I've got nothing," Seth sighed. He watched Ryan switch the icepack to his wrist. "How do we explain to the 'rents that you're in worse shape coming back from rehab than you were before you went?"
"I'm not in worse shape," Ryan mumbled.
"No, 'cause it did your arm a lot of good to smash into three hundred pounds of solid muscle. What do they call that? High impact therapy? Seriously, man. The fists of fury? That was so not the time to unleash them."
Ryan shrugged one shoulder. "The guy was a fucking ass. And he was about to become a violent fucking ass after your Uruk-hai comment."
Seth slouched down in his seat. "Okay, yeah," he conceded. "In hindsight? Probably not the smartest thing I've ever said. But who knew he'd be a Tolkien fan and understand what it meant? Besides, Ryan, I wouldn't have said anything if you weren't about to go all Fight Club on a guy twice your size. Which you did anyway, so the remark?" Seth shook his head sadly. "Stupid and useless. Much like my attempt to get the orc off you." He rubbed his chin again and checked the mirror to see how many new colors had appeared in his complexion.
Ryan shot Seth a sideways glance. "Does it hurt?"
"Mostly my pride and good looks. Unless, I don't know, it makes me look all manly and tough? Intimidating even?" Ryan's lips twitched and Seth exhaled dramatically. "Well, a guy can hope . . . So, buddy, you mind telling me what went on in there?"
"You were there, Seth. You know what went on."
"Ah, yeah, right. Only not. Let me rephrase. I know what happened. What I'm wondering is why."
"You know that too," Ryan argued impatiently. "The guy was set to whale on you, Seth. Just because you made him bump his fucking elbow. Was I supposed to just stand by and let him?"
"Hey no, I'm not saying I didn't enjoy the latest episode of Ryan Atwood to the Rescue. I just wanted to be sure it wasn't like . . . misplaced aggression or something." Seth paused, thumping a nervous tattoo on the steering wheel. "Like, you weren't beating the crap out of orc-man, but picturing me."
Ryan stared at Seth incredulously. "You've really gotten into that intro psych class, haven't you?" he snorted. "Hell, Seth, if I was still angry with you, I would have just let the asshole punch your lights out."
Seth twisted all the way around in his seat to face Ryan directly. "No, see, that's just it, dude. You wouldn't," he replied with anxious intensity. "I know that much about you. No matter how pissed you might be at me, you still would have stepped in. So I just, you know, wanted to be sure. Because most of the time now it seems like we're okay, but then there are these flashes, like on the way over here, when I think maybe really . . . we're not."
Ryan bit his lip, staring pensively out the window. "We're okay, Seth," he said. His voice gave away nothing.
"Good, then. Yeah, that's good. So, okay, I'm not the problem. Then what is, bro? Because my tingling Spidey sense tells me there is still a problem. Talk to me, Ryan." Seth gave a self-deprecating smile, winced a little, and added, "Hell, in honor of the occasion, I'll even keep my mouth shut and listen for a change."
He counted to ten, waiting, counted again, and gave up.
"Hey, you know, dude? The whole listening thing? Really a lot easier when somebody else actually talks."
Ryan exhaled heavily, ruffling his bangs, but otherwise didn't respond.
Seth thought for a moment, rubbing his palms against the steering wheel. "Okay," he suggested. "How about we try this, Ryan? Twenty questions. Or, well, questions anyway. Exact number to be determined later. I ask, you answer. No pressure."
Ryan examined his swollen knuckles. "No pressure?"
"Seriously, none. Nod, shake your head, yes, no, no comment, shut the fuck up, Seth—all of them perfectly acceptable answers. What do you say?"
"Fine."
"Also acceptable. See, it's working already. Okay, then. Here we go." Seth studied Ryan, but he couldn't read his expression. "You're still really upset, aren't you?"
"Not with you."
"Good to know, but, I've got to say, a little evasive there, buddy. So let's try again . . . Are you still upset?" Seth felt like a dentist, probing carefully, trying to avoid hitting a nerve.
Ryan's mouth twisted. He hunched one shoulder, which Seth interpreted as a "yes."
"Does it have anything to do with why you were trying to cram six weeks of rehab into one super session?"
"I didn't . . ."
"Yeah, dude, you so totally did."
"Shit," Ryan sighed. "Okay, Seth, look. This whole getting better business is taking too fucking long. I just need to speed it up so I know I can work, all right?"
"Work?" Seth pronounced the word as if he were learning a foreign language. "What are you talking about? Work on what? And really, why? It's spring break, dude. This is official 'no work' time—well, unless Dad goes post-it note crazy again. And if he does, you know, we should call the ACLU, because I'm pretty sure no work during spring break is in the Bill of Rights." He bobbed his head and peered over hopefully, but Ryan didn't smile.
"I'm not talking about now, Seth."
"Well, good. But . . . then when?"
"Summer, okay?"
Seth's faced creased, puzzled. "So you're thinking about summer now?"
"The season," Ryan clarified. "Not the girl, Seth."
"Yeah, well, I assumed. That is, I certainly hope so . . . But anyway, what do you mean, Ryan? About working this summer?"
Ryan sat back awkwardly, chewing his lip. He didn't answer for a moment. Then he blurted abruptly, "I was a fucking idiot, all right?"
"No. Not all right. I mean . . . what the hell, Ryan? That makes, like no sense at all. Now if I said it? Yeah, well then, sure." Seth laughed ruefully. He watched for a moment, waiting, as Ryan tightened his grip on the melting icepack. "You've got to give me more than that, dude," he urged. "Please? 'Cause, hand to Jesus and Moses, I'm really lost here.""
Ryan nodded. "Fine." He took a few shaky breaths before continuing. "It's just . . . Living with you guys . . . it's too easy to forget real life, you know?"
"Yeah, only no." Seth's voice was both confused and frustrated. "This is real life, Ryan."
"Look, Seth, I mean . . . about the internship. Lindsay was always so sure I'd get it. And I let myself believe her," Ryan explained painfully. "Because everything had just been going so . . . right. So I never even figured out any back-up plan, which was beyond stupid. Because, shit, there was always a good chance that I wouldn't be chosen, even if I made it to the interview. Hell, especially if I made it to the interview."
Frantically, Seth rewound the conversation they'd had on the drive over and played it back in his mind, but he still couldn't figure out exactly what Ryan was saying.
"Humor me, bro," he suggested slowly. "Pretend I'm as stupid as I really am. From the beginning, in words of one syllable, okay?"
A muscle in Ryan's jaw twitched. "I was counting on the fucking internship, okay?" he explained. "I told you, it would have given me something to jump-start some scholarship applications. Shit, it even paid decent money, and it would have counted as a college credit . . . I don't have a Plan B, Seth."
"And that would be a Plan B to . . .?"
"To put money aside for college," Ryan replied. "Seth, we're fucking seniors next year. So I've got to get a job this summer. And waiting tables won't pay enough. The only thing that might is construction work, but it's not like I can do it this way." He lifted his sling with disgust.
Seth nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, I think I'm up to speed. Ryan, do you want to work construction again?"
"Fuck no," Ryan snapped. "But I have to." He dropped his chin to his chest, and Seth could hear him breathing hard.
"All right then. Let me see if I can follow the Atwood logic here. You're upset because you may not be healed enough by the time school ends to work construction this summer."
"Yeah."
"And you're upset because even if you can do the job, you really don't want it anyway."
Ryan bit his lip in chagrin. "Yeah."
"Then Ryan," Seth concluded miserably, "somewhere in there, you've got to be angry at me for getting you into this situation in the first place."
Ryan slammed his good hand on the dashboard and Seth jumped a little. "I'm not angry at you anymore! How many times do I have to say it? God, Seth, I'm trying to get past all that, okay? Just don't push it."
"Right," Seth said slowly. "'Cause obviously you've got it completely under control . . . Ryan, I've got to ask you. Were you maybe looking for a fight in there?"
"No," Ryan claimed. He massaged his throbbing hand for a minute before amending, "Well. I don't know. Maybe."
"So the fighting Uruk-hai was just the unlucky target."
"He was the deserving target."
"Or maybe the substitute target."
Ryan threw his head back against the seat, staring at the roof. "Maybe," he finally conceded. "But not for you, Seth. Really. Just for, I don't know, everything. The internship, and Kirsten being scared all the time, and causing problems for your parents, and hurting Lindsay, and not knowing what the fuck to do with my life. I . . . had to hit something."
"You know what? I get that," Seth said seriously. "I totally do. But shit, Ryan, couldn't you have used a punching bag? Something that wouldn't hit back? Because dude, the 'rents are so going to kill us for this."
"You think? It's really that bad?"
Seth checked his image in the mirror again to see if the swelling and discoloration had magically disappeared, or at least diminished. No luck at all there. Then he inspected Ryan, noting his swollen hand, the raw, open cut over his eye, barely disguised by a butterfly bandage, and, worst of all, the ominous and incriminating new sling.
"Oh yeah," Seth groaned. "It'll be the Cohen version of a firing squad. No cigarettes. No blindfolds. And no point stalling, I suppose?"
"Nah." Ryan closed his eyes and shook his head. "The later we are the worse it will be."
Seth turned the key in the ignition, but he paused before he put it into gear. "Ryan—explaining the run-in-with-a-Mack-truck look? I've still got nothing."
Ryan smiled ruefully. "Yeah, me either, Seth. I think we're gonna have to go with the truth on this one."
"Man," Seth sighed, as he pulled out of the parking place. "I hate it when that happens."
xxxxxxx
Julie tapped Caleb's office door before she pushed it open and swept in, smiling brilliantly. "Darling," she purred. "I am so sorry I'm late,"
"Juju." Caleb's voice was clipped, and his cool business demeanor barely concealed his irritation. "How nice of you to join us at all. Unfortunately, I'm afraid we've pretty much finished here without you." He indicated the two other men, who had risen at Julie's entrance and were gathering their files.
Julie's fuchsia-tipped fingers flashed a contrite wave as she sat, lazily crossing her legs and letting her skirt ride up to expose most of her thigh. "Walt, Charlie, really, I do apologize, and I hope you didn't waste any time waiting for me," she murmured with a coy smile. "There was just so much traffic this morning. . . and silly me, I let my cell battery run down, so I couldn't even call. But I'm sure you three managed perfectly. Really, when you talk about those complicated zoning issues, I'm out of my depth anyway."
Charlie forced his eyes off Julie's legs, coughing to mask his discomfiture. "Not at all, Julie," he claimed. "You always contribute a great deal to our meetings."
"We enjoy hearing your ideas," Walt added, furtively wiping his palms on his briefcase.
"And you are both sweethearts." Julie pursed her lips, almost, but not quite, making a kissing sound. "I do adore flattery, even when it isn't true . . . In any case, I know Cal will fill me in on everything you discussed, and I'll get in touch with you if I have any questions. But now, gentlemen, if you don't mind . . .?" Her voice trailed off and she inclined her head toward Caleb, lips curving in a significant smile.
"Of course," Walt agreed hastily. "Cal, we'll meet with the zoning commission and have our report for you by the close of business on Wednesday. Julie, lovely to see you."
"You too," Julie replied. "Give my love to your wives . . ."
As soon as the door had closed behind Walt and Charlie, Caleb snorted and pushed himself back from his desk.
"Well, that was quite a display, Juju. I thought you wanted people here to take you seriously as a businesswoman."
Julie shrugged. "Oh now, darling, I was just playing. The meeting was already over after all."
"Yes," Caleb snapped. "It was. And I expected you to be here for it. Do you mind telling me where you've been all this time? No wait, let me guess. Shopping?"
Julie pouted mockingly. "As a matter of fact, no. I was in spinning class."
"Oh. Excuse me. Spinning class—yes, that's a much better reason to miss a business meeting."
"For your information, Cal, I was working. Just on another project. Your special project, as a matter of fact." Julie hiked herself onto his desk and sat back, studying her nails.
Caleb frowned. "You were?" he asked warily. "What exactly did you do?"
"Well, as I told you, I was taking spinning class," Julie replied, idly rearranging the items on Caleb's desk. "And I would have been here in plenty of time to meet with Walt and Charlie, but then I noticed that Tess Stanton was in the gym too. So when class ended, I suggested that we have a drink together and a little . . . girl talk. That's why I was late. But really, darling." Julie wrinkled her nose. "I lied about my cell phone. The battery's fine."
"What does that--?" Caleb broke off, his annoyance vanishing abruptly. "Tess Stanton," he intoned, with dawning recognition. "And she would be—"
"Fred Stanton's wife. More importantly, Jamie Stanton's mother." Julie poured two glasses of ice water from the carafe on Caleb's desk and offered one to him.
"Ah yes," Caleb said. He raised his eyebrows and touched Julie's glass in a toast.
"Tess and I had a lovely chat," Julie reported. "About this and that. Fashion, gossip, vacation plans. You know, the usual subjects. And, oh yes, we talked about the youth center project. Tess was absolutely charmed to find out that we invited Jamie to join the advisory panel."
"Was she now?"
"Absolutely. Although to be honest, she wasn't sure that Jamie would really be interested in doing something like that." Julie frowned and leaned forward. "I know you were worried that she might turn down our invitation, darling."
Caleb swirled the ice in his glass thoughtfully. "True," he admitted. "And if she's not there . . . well." He shrugged, and drained his glass.
"Exactly," Julie agreed. "So I thought perhaps I should just remind Tess—very subtly, you understand—what an honor it is for Jamie to be invited to help out the Newport Group."
"Did you?" Caleb's eyes gleamed with admiration.
Julie smiled and took a sip before continuing. "And I may have mentioned how good Jamie's participation on the panel will look on her college applications. Really, it's almost like community service, isn't it? Involvement in activities like this says so much about a student's character."
Caleb nodded approvingly.
"And then," Julie said, drawing out the words, "I think somehow we started discussing possible cuts in Fred Stanton's department . . . This economy is such a bitch, isn't it? And the job market is so tenuous these days. . . But I assured Tess that Fred's position should be safe. After all, the Newport Group always rewards employee loyalty, and we know the whole Stanton family is very. Loyal."
Caleb took both their glasses and put them aside. "So I take it we can count on Jamie joining our little group for dinner this Friday?" he concluded.
"Oh yes," Julie confirmed blithely, "she'll be there. Whether she really wants to come or not. Although I'm quite sure she'll enjoy herself. Now . . . " Julie kicked off her shoe and ran her foot up Caleb's leg. "Still mad at me for missing this meeting, darling?"
Caleb laughed. "Juju," he said with satisfaction, "I think I'll let that one slide."
xxxxxxxxx
"Kirsten?" The front door slammed behind Sandy, and he flung his briefcase to the floor as he rushed into the house. "What the hell happened? Where are you? Kirsten?"
"We're in here, Sandy."
Sandy followed the sound of his wife's overwrought voice into the family room.
"Oh, my God. Guys . . ."
"They've been fighting," Kirsten said tersely.
She was sitting on the coffee table, facing Seth and Ryan, who shrank into opposite ends of the couch, trying to hide both their bruises and their guilty expressions. Ryan's injured leg was propped up on a pillow next to Kirsten, and Sandy noticed immediately that he was wearing a different, more rigid sling.
"Fighting," Sandy repeated in disbelief. "You've been fighting."
"Not with each other," Seth amended quickly. "Mom, enough. You've put on, like, half the bottle. And, you know, they already cleaned it out at the clinic." He twisted away from the antiseptic that Kirsten was dabbing on his chin. She ignored him and swiped the cotton across the cut, pressing hard, before turning her attention to Ryan's knuckles.
"This happened at the clinic? Somebody better explain what the hell went on there. Right now. Seth? Ryan?"
"I hope you can get a straight answer from them," Kirsten muttered.
Ryan pressed further into the corner, biting his lip. "Kirsten, we told you the truth," he insisted. "It was nothing. Seth bumped into this guy. The assho--I mean, the man--got bent about it, so I took a swing to keep him from going after Seth . . ."
"But the guy was one of those steroid freaks with seriously hairy knuckles and he went postal . . ." Seth interjected.
"So Seth got hit trying to pull the guy off me, and then the clinic staff broke it up," Ryan concluded. "That's it. That's all."
Sandy's eyes narrowed as he studied the boys. "That's all," he echoed slowly. "All right, let's see. When exactly did this happen?"
"When we were getting ready to leave," Ryan mumbled.
"So in the locker room."
"Not exactly," Seth clarified. "We, um, we were still in the exercise area, or torture chamber, or whatever they call the room with all the evil nightmare machines." He shuddered dramatically. "Ryan was finishing up his last rap."
"Rep, Seth," Ryan corrected automatically.
"Rep. Right. Not rap. Because that would be like, yo bro, hit the weight, hit the weight, hit the weight--"
"Seth!" Sandy waited until his son sank back, abashed. Then he asked, "Just where was your therapist, Ryan? How did he let this happen?"
"He had gone to his office." Ryan risked a quick glance up. "Why the third degree, Sandy? It was just a two-minute fight. Not even a fight, really. And Seth and I . . . I mean, we're both fine."
"Fine!" Kirsten's anger exploded and Ryan winced as she involuntarily squeezed his hand. "This is what you call fine? You're both hurt, and frankly, it's a miracle you didn't wind up back in the hospital, Ryan. You still could. Sandy, ask him what he did to his shoulder."
"Ryan?"
"Nothing! I just—I jarred it that's all. When I punched the guy," Ryan admitted. "But it's nothing really. This sling? They just put it on as a precaution until the doctor checks everything out. And I was supposed see him later today anyway." Ryan's eyes darted from Sandy back to Kirsten and then dropped to his lap. "You guys don't believe me," he observed miserably.
"I'm not sure what I believe yet." Sandy sat on the coffee table next to Kirsten, his knees bumping Seth's. "I'm still trying to sort this out. Okay, Seth, you bumped into this other man. How?"
Seth held up his hands helplessly. "Dad, it was a bump. You know, one body part banging another body part . . . Oh, shit." He grimaced and leaned toward Ryan, whispering, "Dude, did that just sound as porno site as I think it did?" Seth looked up hastily and gave an innocent, deflecting smile. "Not that I visit or even know the names of any porno sites or anything, you understand, Mom and Dad . . . And I can't believe I just said porno sites twice in front of my parents."
"Three times," Ryan muttered.
"Ah. Right you are. Then sorry, Mom. Sorry, Dad. And sorry, both of you." Seth ticked off his fingers. "Yep. Three apologies."
"Stop it, Seth!" Kirsten ordered, obviously not amused. "You're trying to . . . I don't know. Distract us. Pretend that this all a joke. It's not."
"Um, no, yeah, I know. I mean . . . Sorry, Mom. Again."
Sandy put a soothing hand on Kirsten's shoulder. "Just tell us what happened, son," he instructed. His voice was calm but insistent, and Seth surrendered.
"Right, okay. I was leaving, backing up, when I kind of crashed into this guy behind me, and he smashed his elbow into something. I guess it hurt . . . you know, funny bone pain, not really so funny . . . And the guy got mad. Like, I gotta say, out-of-proportion mad. Then Ryan got up . . ."
"Hold it a minute," Sandy interrupted suspiciously. "You were backing up? Why?"
Seth looked helplessly at Ryan and shrugged. "It was just . . . you know, me, Mr. Clumsy, making one of my patented awkward exits, trying to walk and talk at the same time."
"But didn't you say you were leaving? And Ryan was finishing his last set of exercises? That doesn't make sense. Ryan, why weren't you leaving with Seth? And why were you working out without your therapist with you?"
The boys locked eyes and Seth shook his head in defeat. "I told you—that law degree Dad's got? It's not just a piece of paper. He's good. You might as well tell him, dude."
"Fine," Ryan conceded flatly. "I was doing some extra reps after my session ended."
"You what?" Sandy demanded.
"Ryan!" Kirsten cried in consternation. "You know better than that. The doctor explained the rehabilitation process. He told you that doing too much too soon can make injuries worse."
Ryan swallowed hard. His fingers dug into the fabric of his sling. "Yeah, I know. But it wasn't too much, honestly. I just wanted to do a little bit more. I wasn't tired at all. And . . . I don't think I can stand much more of this, Kirsten," Ryan explained, finishing in a fierce whisper.
"But Ryan--"
"Kirsten? Sweetheart, let it go for now," Sandy suggested gently. "One thing at a time, okay? All right boys, tell us the rest of it."
"There's not much to tell, Sandy. I swear." Ryan took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "Seth wanted me to quit, but I wouldn't, so he was going to get Jason to come back and spot me. Only we were still arguing about it when he started to leave. That's why he wasn't looking where he was going."
Seth nodded. "Right. And that's why I bumped into the Uruk-hai."
"The what?"
"Um . . . Uruk-hai? From The Lord of the Rings? You know, Dad. You saw the movies."
"I read the books too. Seth, by any chance, did you say anything to the gentleman when you bumped into him?"
"I apologized," Seth replied promptly. "I was polite and sincere and totally took responsibility, and I apologized."
"Anything else? Seth?"
"Uh . . . the phrase Uruk-hai might have slipped out then too. Possibly. Quietly. Humorously. Very, very accidentally." Seth gave a weak, remorseful grin, and folded his hands like a chastised schoolboy.
Sandy snorted in disgust. "Let me guess. The man got offended, and that's when the situation got out of control."
"More or less," Seth conceded. "Okay, more more than less. Um, Dad, are we about done here? Because I'd sort of like to change clothes . . ."
"God, Seth! " Kirsten blurted. She stood up, ready to storm through the room, but she was trapped between Sandy and Ryan's outstretched leg. "Isn't this exactly what we talked about before your party yesterday? We've asked you to think before you open your mouth, but you don't. You never do. You're always in such a damned hurry to be clever."
Kirsten's whole body vibrated with frustration. She pivoted, impaling Ryan with her furious gaze. "And you, Ryan. Exercising after your therapist told you to stop. And then fighting! I don't care what your motivations were, you knew it was dangerous and you did it anyway! After you promised me that you'd follow your doctor's orders."
"Kirsten, calm down." Sandy got up. He reached for Kirsten's waist, but she shook him off.
"Don't you touch me," she hissed. "And don't you tell me to calm down. This is all your fault."
Sandy staggered back, stunned, and Kirsten pushed past him.
"I told you it was a bad idea," she cried. "If you had taken Ryan to rehab the way you were supposed to, this never would have happened. But no, you wanted to force the situation. 'They'll have to talk if Seth drives Ryan,' you said. Well, look at them, Sandy! You might as well have just given them boxing gloves and let them fight it out. That was one of your ideas, wasn't it?"
"Honey," Sandy protested. "Come on, that was a joke."
Seth shuddered, glancing at Ryan and then flexing his own muscles dubiously. "God, I hope so," he muttered.
Sandy ignored his son's comment. "And I'm not saying I'm happy about this, but Kirsten, I really think you're overreacting."
"You mean, like I did about getting the Rover repaired? Well, you know what, Sandy? I don't care what you think!" Kirsten's voice began to tremble, and she had to take long careful breaths in order to steady it. "I am so tired of . . . worrying about this family . . . and seeing the people I love get hurt . . . over and over again."
Ryan stumbled to his feet, stretching his hand out to take hers. "Kirsten, please. Don't be upset. This was all my fault. It's just . . . I was stupid, I know, but I promise it won't happen again . . ."
"Don't Ryan," she snapped, jerking away. "Just . . . don't."
Ryan fell back, looking as though Kirsten had hit him. His face paled and his breath quickened. Instinctively, Sandy moved close and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"Why don't you go to your room, Ryan?" he suggested. "I think we all need some time to cool off here." Ryan raised haunted eyes, his expression defeated, and Sandy urged quietly, "It's okay, kid. Just go."
Ryan nodded and left, avoiding any contact with Kirsten who stood rigid, arms locked around her midriff, on the other side of the room.
"Seth." Sandy turned tiredly to his son who hadn't moved. "I think you should go too. Wash up, change your clothes . . ."
No," Seth said hoarsely. "I mean . . . I need to talk to you guys. About why this all happened. Please, Mom?" he begged. "Stay? And just listen. I think . . . I really think it's important."
Kirsten closed her eyes for a moment. Then, wordlessly, carefully, she sat down in the armchair. Seth looked appealingly at his father and finally Sandy took a seat too.
"Okay, son," he said quietly. "We're listening."
TBC