Undressed By His Arrogance-Chapter 279: Sit The Fuck Back Down

Winn waited a beat, then rose as well, stretching his shoulders. "I’m gonna—"

"Sit the fuck back down, Winn!" Sam barked, finally looking up from Liz. "What?" He arched a brow. "You want to make some more noise in the shower too?"

"Sam...the baby." Winn threw his hand up in horror. His eyes flicked instinctively to Elizabeth, who was blissfully unaware of the adult panic swirling around her, chewing thoughtfully on her own fist while sitting on Sam’s lap. "You can’t just—say things like that in front of her."

Sam didn’t even look remotely chastised. He adjusted the baby’s position. "I’m old," he said calmly, patting Liz’s back as she gave a contented gurgle. "I am allowed to get away with everything. That’s one of the perks of not having much time left."

Winn cursed under his breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. His foot tapped against the hardwood floor, a restless, betraying rhythm. Ivy was in the shower. Naked. And Sam, in all his stubborn, infuriating glory, had effectively handcuffed him to the sofa.

"Sorry about last night?" Winn offered finally.

Sam snorted. "I don’t care," he said bluntly. "What I care about is that you are going to sit right there until my granddaughter is done with her shower and fully clothed. I did not survive three generations just to start hearing things I can’t unhear."

Winn leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands laced together. "Sam, you do realize Liz here didn’t exactly drop from heaven, right?" 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

Sam lifted a brow slowly. "Yes," he replied. "But I wasn’t in the same building when you were busy making her, now was I?"

"I’ll give you anything, Sam."

"Nothing I want."

"Another great-grandbaby? Hm?" He wiggled his eyebrows exaggeratedly.

Sam turned his head slowly to Elizabeth, lowering his voice as if confiding a terrible secret. "Your father is a dog."

Winn dropped back into the sofa with a dramatic sigh, spreading his arms along the backrest in complete resignation. "This is entrapment," he muttered.

A few moments passed in companionable silence Sam finally spoke again. "So...when are we leaving?"

"I’ll leave the jet for you guys," he said. "But I have to fly out today. Sylvia’s body is still in the morgue pending the investigation into the shooting. I haven’t spoken to Maurice yet. I don’t want to expose my location."

Sam nodded slowly.

"You sure you can keep your cool around Tom?" Sam asked.

"Well," Winn said, "I have to. I don’t have a choice." His fingers flexed unconsciously.

Sam hummed, not entirely convinced, but willing to let it go—for now.

"And," Winn added, "I also need to finally speak with a friend who will end up hating my guts."

*****

Irene was still very much not interested in speaking with her husband.

As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, Irene’s shoulders stiffened. She didn’t look at him. Instead, she reached for the juicer and switched it on with unnecessary force, the loud mechanical whirr filling the space and effectively drowning him out.

Evans stood there for a beat, watching her back, the tight line of her shoulders. He sighed, then reached forward and unplugged the machine from the outlet.

"Ri... this is enough!" he said, hands raised in surrender. "I’m sorry. What do you want me to do?"

Irene turned slowly, one eyebrow arching as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Why?" she asked coolly. "Why are you sorry, Evans?"

"I... Ri... I thought—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "No. I was doing the right thing. At the time, it was the right thing." He looked at her pleadingly. "I was protecting Ivy. I was protecting Liz."

"You still don’t get it, do you?" she said, turning back to the stove and flipping the sausages with a little more aggression than strictly necessary.

Evans followed her, staying just out of arm’s reach. "Tell me," he said softly. "Tell me, sweetie. My brain isn’t working. You mad at me... it’s driving me crazy."

"If I have to tell you, then it makes absolutely no sense." Irene said.

"For heaven’s sakes..." Evans threw his hands in the air, pacing the length of the kitchen. "How am I supposed to fix something if you won’t tell me what’s broken?"

Winn stepped into the kitchen right then, clearly sensing the emotional landmine he was walking into and choosing, as usual, to step directly on it anyway. "Hey..." he said casually. "Just came in for more coffee. Sam is watching my every move so..." He gestured vaguely toward the hallway. "...you mind if I listen to you guys argue and then make my escape?"

"Get out, Kane!" Evans snapped instantly, pointing toward the door.

Winn ignored him completely. He moved with unbothered confidence to the coffee maker, poured himself a cup, and took a long, appreciative sip. He leaned back against the counter and turned to Irene. "I promised the idiot I was going to talk to you," he said mildly. "So, give him a break."

Irene finally turned around, arms crossing over her chest as she exhaled shakily. "Winn, I’m not mad about what he did. I mean, yes, I am mad about the way he went about it," she admitted, "but that’s not what hurts me." Her eyes flicked briefly to Evans, then away again.

Winn tilted his head, studying her with unsettling perceptiveness. "He’s not really the one you are mad at, is he?" he asked gently.

Irene’s shoulders slumped forward as the fight drained out of her all at once, a sob breaking free before she could stop it. She pressed her lips together, eyes shining.

"You’re mad at yourself, aren’t you?" Winn continued softly. "Because you didn’t figure out for so long he was hiding something." He offered her a sad, knowing smile. "Because you trusted him. Completely."

Evans watched his wife crumble, realization dawning too late.

Winn straightened, and clapped a hand on Evans’s shoulder as he walked past him. "You’re welcome," he said lightly. "Don’t say I didn’t do anything for you."

(This is for 100 power stones. Next milestone: 200 power stones)