“Nothing, except the fact that you’re expecting the person who’s probably paid the least around here to facilitate an event he’s not welcome at, despite the fact that he’s worked harder than anyone since he got here.” Sid was shouting by the time he was done, which caught him off guard as much as it did Benjamin. He swiped a shaky hand over his face. “Sorry. It just pisses me off that he does so much for me and no one else seems to give a fuck about him.”
Benjamin ventured closer to Sid and perched on the back of an antique sofa. It smelled fusty. Deathly. As much as Sid cherished the gardens of Wilburn Manor and all they’d gifted him, he fuckinghatedthe old house. Even with its high ceilings and big windows, it still sucked the air from his lungs.
“Sorry,” he said again.
“It’s okay.” Benjamin’s hand hovered like he wanted to lay it on Sid’s arm, but he kept it to himself. “I know you only shout when you care.”
“Fuck off.” But there was no anger lacing Sid’s words this time. The well had run dry, and all he wanted was to escape this ridiculous conversation and get back to Dante.Do you even remember life without him?
Nope.
Not even a little bit.
Life without Dante seemed as distant as it had before MS had turned his world upside down.
“Look,” Benjamin said. “I can talk to the trust about maybe having a separate staff gathering away from the main house, but we both know nothing I say is going to convince them to entertain the local gentry in the barn. And even if they did, do you really think Dante would want to come? Anna said he’s not much for socialising.”
“When did you talk to Anna?”
Benjamin’s gaze slid away. “Last week, maybe? I can’t remember.”
After we ran out on her then.Sid hadn’t spoken to her much since. “Well, whenever it was, she doesn’t know Dante any better than you do, so tell her from me to stop putting words in his mouth.”
“She didn’t. I’m paraphrasing her words to fit the context of this conversation.”
Sid’d had enough. He faced Benjamin down, arms threaded across his chest, jaw set. “If you want a display, I’ll build one by the pumpkin field. Whether Dante wants to come to your lame shindig or not, that’s my final offer.”
“The pumpkin field is further away than the house,” Benjamin said dryly.
“Give a shit.” Sid scowled one final time and left Benjamin to whatever he did to pass the time.
Outside, he let out an irritated sigh and stomped back towards the potato patch where he’d last seen Dante. The plants were tall and green, but some of the leaves were starting to die back. It would be harvest time soon, and Sid knew Dante was excited. He’d never seen what one chitted spud buried in the ground could do, and Sid couldn’t wait to show him.
But Dante was nowhere to be found. Sid circled the vegetable gardens, checked the polytunnels, and ventured past the lake to the cottage gardens, but came up blank.
Frowning, he returned to the tool shed, too busy ruminating to see two feet in front of him.
He tripped over Dante’s feet.
Clearly startled, Dante sprang up from where he’d been sitting on the floor, catching Sid before he fell. “Whoa. Easy there.”
“I’m fine.” Sid wrenched his arms free of Dante’s steadying hold, irrationally irritated at being manhandled, again, for all the wrong reasons. “Why are you hiding in here?”
“I’m not hiding.”
Sid speared a pointed glare at the phone clutched in Dante’s hand.
Dante offered him a shrug that might’ve been sheepish had his gaze not held rebellious defiance he’d probably been born with. “It’s annoying me.”
“What is?”
“This?” Dante held up the phone. “Me? I don’t know.”
Sid waited. Sometimes Dante was good at explaining himself if Sid gave him the space to try. It was a risk, though. When he wasn’t in the mood, he shut the gates and walked away, and there was no way of telling when he’d come back.
Touch him. You know he likes it.
Sid rubbed the back of his fingers on Dante’s forearm.