He’s always been my favorite. Probably because we silently understand one another.
While everyone was fawning over me, he methodically kicked them out so I could rest. Grandpa Ethan still manipulated him to let him and Mum come see me, though.
“That was a rookie mistake.” Grandpa Jonathan grins with pure mischief as he eats the white knight.
Grandpa Agnus, who’s sitting on the armrest of Grandpa Ethan’s chair, leans over and whispers something in his ear.
“No cheating, Agnus,” Grandpa Jonathan says. “Two to one is not happening.”
“Who says it’s two?” Grandpa Ethan interlinks his fingers with his husband’s and smiles with mischief. “We’re one.”
A rare smile twitches Grandpa Agnus’s lips and Grandpa Jonathan’s expression pulls downward. “Such a revolting sight.”
“Someone is jealous. Maybe you should join your wife outside.”
“You might want to wipe that, Jonathan,” Grandpa Agnus says with a neutral expression. “It’s dripping all over the floor.”
“Are you sure it’s not your jealousy that’s messing up the floor, Agnus?”
“Mine?”
“If I remember correctly, I received a bunch of drunken texts from you not too long ago.”
“Texts?” Grandpa Ethan stares between them. “What type of texts?”
“Since when do you even check your texts?” Grandpa Agnus asks with a tight voice.
“Since they’re from you. I admit, I was thoroughly entertained and even learned them by heart for a moment like this.”
“Don’t you dare—”
“They said, and I quote, ‘Fuck you, Jonathan, for being able to share all those threesomes with Ethan. I’m surprised I didn’t kill you.’ Another one went on like this, ‘You knew my feelings very well and still provoked me. Rot in hell. I know I’m going there, too, but I’ll make sure I have a room opposite yours so I can watch you burn for eternity.’ My personal favorite, however, is ‘Bet you thought I would never make him mine, you bloody sod. Touch him again and I will kill you.’ I must say, I fancy drunk Agnus. He’s much less dull than the one in front of me.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Grandpa Agnus deadpans, then stares down at his husband. “And stop smiling.”
“Come now, this is amusing.” Grandpa Ethan strokes his hand. “If I’d known you held this type of jealousy all these years, I would’ve done something about it.”
Grandpa Agnus doesn’t appear amused as he stands, throws one last glare at Grandpa Jonathan, and leaves after a nod in my direction.
Grandpa Ethan hits Grandpa Jonathan on the shoulder. “I owe you one, Jonny.” Then he follows after his husband.
He stops at the entrance, pats my arm, and leaves.
“Bunch of little fuckers,” Grandpa mutters under his breath as he stands up.
“Did you have to do that?” I ask.
“How else will I get a reaction out of Agnus? Though I believe I might have unintentionally done him a favor and brought them closer. It’s unfortunate how Ethan never understood how to go with the flow.” He halts in front of me. “Do you need anything?”
Aside from going back into a coma and never waking up? I shake my head.
“If you want to escape your parents, come to my house.” Grandpa ruffles my hair as if I were still a child. “Get well soon, kid. I mean it.”
And then he’s out the door, probably to get my nan and leave. She’s been there with Mum every step of the way, fawning over me, and making sure I’m comfortable.
That means she’s given less attention to Grandpa.
He’s never liked sharing Nana’s time with anyone, including his grandkids. Except for Glyn. She’s always had an all-access card to Grandpa’s mansion.
Now, apparently, I do, too, since he invited me over.
I’m staring at the rain, absentmindedly patting Tiger’s head when Mum comes in carrying a plate full of all sorts of food.
She’s wearing a beautiful white dress that makes her look younger. The dark circles and bloodshot eyes eventually disappeared as I was getting better, and she’s been dedicating her life to becoming my personal chef.
Something she really sucks at—cooking, I mean—but Dad, Eli, and I choose not to tell her that fact.
It’s how I managed to eat all of Annika’s horrible dishes when everyone else avoided them like the plague.
My wound itches at those memories, tingling and burning, and it takes everything in me not to rip the stitches open.