Page 28 of Small Sacrifices

And why does—a sound distracts him. His eyes are drawn where Everett is dangling his hands over the headrest, phone held loosely.

He keeps tapping it with his fingers. At first, Reid feels a kind of kinship, because that's something that he might do too.

But then he realizes that while Everett is talking to Mr. Swayne, his phone is closer to Reid.

And he's tapping on it. Like he wants to attract Reid's attention. Text me.

Reid has to close his eyes against the wave of heat that rolls through him at the realization.

The only thing he can think to do is look away and clear his throat.

His phone is in his lap, which is convenient.

That way, he can just check up on the profiles of the parents they'll be meeting today.

Ms. Greene still hasn't posted anything new. It's unnerving.

Everett doesn't stop tapping until Mr. Swayne asks him what he's so nervous about.

"Oh, nothing," he says.

Reid bites his tongue to prevent himself from saying something stupid.

"Are you sure?" Mr. Swayne asks, voice soft. "You're practically vibrating. And I'm pretty sure your father told you to stay by his side."

Did he? That's interesting. One would think that's the way his younger brother would be treated. Everett is about Reid's age, right?

Everett groans. "Don't remind me. I'm already regretting this. But I really just wanted to see you."

Mr. Swayne hums. "Well, now you have. You should really go back before someone misses you. Endure the briefings. We'll see each other quite a lot in the next few days, I think."

The weight of dark brown eyes is heavy on Reid's face.

He doesn't look up from the riveting diatribe one father has written about how environmentalist politics, apparently, are to blame for his child being poisoned.

It's not particularly convincing, but at least the cursing is creative.

He doesn't think he's ever heard anyone being called a bean sprout-eating, sanctimonious clusterfucker. A for effort.

Finally, Everett just huffs a goodbye and leaves. Reid listens to the sound of his footsteps until they grow too quiet to hear. Only then does Mr. Swayne speak again.

"You know, you don't need to be afraid of him."

What? Reid raises his head, but Mr. Swayne isn't even looking at him. "I'm sorry?" he asks.

The corner of the man's mouth twitches, and he turns his head. His expression is mild, but his eyes are sharp and way too amused for Reid's taste.

"He can be a bit much sometimes. Trust me, I know. But he's not malicious. Just a bit... chaotic. You don't need to avoid him."

And that's nice, isn't it? It's very nice of him to say. It's just not true. "Mr. Wright said I should."

The look that brings to Mr. Swayne's face is downright appalled. Damn. He shouldn't have said anything. Do Mr. Swayne and Mr. Wright know each other? Even if they don't, Everett and Mr. Swayne definitely know each other. Going by the note, Everett doesn't know what Mr. Wright said.

But maybe he just doesn't know it yet. Maybe Mr. Wright will tell him, and then he'll agree.

Everett is a good-looking guy. There probably hasn't been a shortage of people trying to flirt with him inappropriately.

And no matter what Reid thinks he's doing, if it comes across as flirting…

if he were Everett, he wouldn't want random interns flirting with him.

Especially considering—well. Reid is a guy.

Everett is a guy. Would Everett even want guys to flirt with him in a more neutral setting?

"Mr. Wright said what?"

The question rips Reid out of his spiraling thoughts. When he looks up again, Mr. Swayne has his entire body turned in his seat so that he's facing Reid. The way he's got his eyebrows drawn together almost makes him look concerned. He looks earnest. Reid doesn't trust him.

"Oh, nothing," he says. "It's not important."

That only gets Mr. Swayne to squint at him. "That didn't sound like nothing. You sure?"

"Yes." Reid says it as firmly as he can.

Possibly a bit too firm, judging by the widening of Mr. Swayne's eyes.

But oh well. "But I have a question for you.

One of the fathers invited to the mediation seems to be losing it on social media.

Do you think I should warn someone? Just in case he turns up? "

The distraction works, which probably should have made Reid suspicious.

But it doesn't. That’s why he thinks nothing of it when Mr. Swayne asks him if they'll just stay together for the car ride to the hotel as well, instead of letting him go seek out Mr. Wright like he would have done otherwise.

He's already sitting in the car and fishing for the seat belt when Mr. Swayne calls out for Everett to join him.

Reid freezes. He casts a desperate glance at Mr. Swayne's back, but it's too late.

Everett, initially reluctant, agrees to join when Mr. Swayne mentions needing a local guide.

Reid expects Everett to react negatively upon discovering Mr. Swayne isn't alone, but Everett only registers Reid's presence after he's buckled in, and the car door slams shut.

Everett's face remains impassive as he spots Reid. For a moment, he just stares, then turns to Mr. Swayne. "Is no one else joining us?" he asks, nodding towards the empty fourth seat.

But Mr. Swayne just shakes his head. "We're an uneven number, remember?"

Reid doesn't remember that, and going by the confusion on Everett's face, neither does he. Still, he nods. "Right, well. You know we're not here to have a good time, right? The whole local guide thing kinda falls flat."

Mr. Swayne regards him with amusement as he speaks. "I know, Ev. But I really just needed a reason to get you over here."

Oh no. Reid can feel himself getting fidgety again, so he interlaces his fingers where his hands are already lying in his lap. He wants to say something. But is there anything that he could say that wouldn't make things worse for him?

"Why?" Everett asks. When Reid chances a glance at him, he looks as apprehensive as he himself feels. Somehow, that's surprising.

Mr. Swayne hums. "Well, because a little birdie said that he was told to avoid you and then resolutely refused to answer any follow-up questions."

It turns out that looking at Everett was a mistake.

The moment Mr. Swayne says that, Reid again freezes in place.

He can feel his face burning in embarrassment—in full view for Everett to see.

But the worst thing is that it forces Reid to watch as Everett turns from looking at Mr. Swayne to looking at him, confusion on his face transforming into wide-eyed hope.

There's a weird mix of joy and defiance in his dark eyes.

"Who said that?" Everett sounds like he's trying to sound calm. But he swallows before he asks, and Reid could swear that his chin is pushing out further, like he's squaring his jaw.

"Mr. Wright?" It comes out sounding like a question. Should Reid even be talking about this? Surely, that's a bad idea. Especially in front of a colleague. But he's already said too much.

"And why would Mr. Wright tell you to avoid me?"

Reid wets his lips. "He suggested I was being inappropriate."

Wouldn't want anyone to think that you're trying to sleep your way up, would you?

The words echo in his mind, a malicious twist on what was an innocent smile.

Reid wants to reveal the exact words Mr. Wright used, but fears Everett might not believe him.

It's hard to imagine anyone taking such a claim seriously, and even if Everett did, there's still Mr. Swayne.

Depending on his perspective, Reid could find himself in trouble for speaking the truth.

Everett's jaw drops, a reaction that stirs a flicker of triumph in Reid. If Everett's surprised, maybe he didn't think Reid's smile was inappropriate after all.

"Inappropriate how?" Everett demands to know.

Ah. He was right. Reid suppresses a smile at the confirmation. "I smiled at you yesterday. He thought I was flirting with you."

Next to him, Mr. Swayne snorts. But the outrage on Everett's face is so magnificent that Reid can't spare the noise more than a fleeting thought. "You—when we were walking out, and you smiled at me? That's it?"

Reid nods.

"Fucking hell!" Everett throws his head back and groans. "How is that flirting?"

Reid would like to know that, too. "He asked me how well I knew you. I think he thought there might be more going on."

"God, he's such an asshole." The words are muffled by Everett's hands, brought up to his face to rub his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose.

Reid concurs, but he takes great care to show no signs of his agreement.

It distracts him enough that he jumps when Everett abruptly rips down his hands and turns to look at him again.

"Wait, what did you tell him?"

Reid frowns. It almost sounds accusatory. Did they not just agree that Reid hadn't been flirting with Everett?

"I said that we'd made small talk, but that I didn't know you otherwise."

"Oh, thank God." Everett's shoulders descend from where they had almost been touching his ears. "You should be okay, then."

That—wait. Reid frowns. Does that mean that Everett thinks he could actually have gotten in trouble just for talking to him?

Why? Nothing about this makes sense. He mourns the fact that he didn't text Marisol as soon as he arrived at the tarmac.

Maybe then he'd have answers by now. Marisol always knows what's happening.

"I should hope so," Reid says. "I don't plan on doing anything to jeopardize my job."

Everett looks pained. "You haven't done anything wrong. They can't get you in trouble just for talking to me. It'll be fine."

Next to Reid, Mr. Swayne shifts in his seat.

It doesn't seem to mean anything, but it draws Reid's attention to the fact that he and Everett aren't alone.

He doesn't want to talk about this in the first place—but the audience makes him even more uncomfortable.

Especially because Mr. Swayne seems to have orchestrated this. He feels he has to explain himself.

"I smiled at you, and Mr. Wright thought it meant I was being inappropriate. If the bar is so low, I feel it would be best for us not to speak."

Although he can't help but be curious. Why would something so simple make Mr. Wright think there was something more going on between them?

And why would he care? Somehow, Reid thinks this isn't about him.

It's about Everett. So does it even matter what Reid does?

Probably not. He really should stay away from Everett.

The thought makes him feel heavy. He likes Everett, the way he just leaves him be with his little idiosyncrasies, the enthusiasm he seems to have for the things that interest him, and especially the way that he seems to keep seeking Reid out.

It's nice to feel like someone is genuinely interested in him.

Someone who currently looks quite distressed at the thought of not speaking to him.

"Reid…" His hand is back at the bridge of his nose, pinching for just a second.

When he lowers it again, Reid can see a little red crescent troublingly close to his tear duct.

"You don't need to do that. If he bothers you again, just tell him you're straight. That should do it."

Straight. There it is again. He remembers Marisol tilting her head and asking, "Are you queer?" It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Could he just tell someone that he's straight? Likely not with a straight face. He's not very good at stating things as fact when he isn't sure about them.

If this is about Everett, and if Everett believes that Reid's supposed straightness will resolve the situation, it makes even less sense. Why should it matter if he's queer? Governor Mackenzie has been outspoken about queer rights and anti-discrimination.

"Hello?" Everett rips him out of his thoughts by waving a hand in front of his face. Reid recoils. How rude. Is Everett's need for attention that immediate?

Mr. Swayne slaps his hand down. "You're behaving like a child. Stop it."

"But he—"

"He's thinking. Let the man think."

"What is there even to think about?" Everett's irritation sparks something in Reid's stomach, somewhere between defensiveness and fury.

How dare he? This is about Reid's job! People would kill for this job— this kind of opportunity only comes once in a lifetime.

If he can't understand the rest of it, why can't he just understand that?

Mr. Swayne scoffs. "I think if you were missing two-thirds of the context, you'd be confused, too."

And that's it. Reid has had enough. It's very nice of Mr. Swayne to be defending him, but he shouldn't be here for this.

"I don't want to continue this conversation right now," he says.

Even as he speaks the words, he can feel his face burn.

But he sets his jaw and establishes eye contact with Everett to show him he means it.

And when Everett opens his mouth to speak, he interrupts him.

"I need my energy for other things today.

If you really want to talk about this, we'll do it after the mediation. Alright?"

It takes a second before Everett snaps his mouth shut. But when he does, there's a determined glint in his eyes. He nods.

"Sure, we can talk after." He sounds weirdly happy with it. The little smile dancing around the corners of his mouth makes Reid's heart beat a bit harder.

"Can I have your number so I can text you?" Everett asks.

Reid wants to shout. Why can't this conversation just be over?

But if that's what it takes... He rattles his number off and watches as Everett enters it into his contacts.

He even remembers to warn Everett that he doesn't always answer very quickly.

And then he excuses himself, puts in his earbuds, and stares out of the window for the rest of the car journey.

Soon enough, kale fields yield to beautifully maintained yards.

It doesn't take long after that until they arrive at their hotel in Chesterton, where there's apparently an entire floor bought out just for them.

It's just a stopover, but it gives Reid a few minutes to breathe.

He lies down on the hard hotel room floor next to the bed, feels it press solidly against his back and takes deep breaths.

Then, he changes out of his sweaty t-shirt—thanks for the relaxing car ride, Everett—and brings his hair in order.