“Hurry,” Lauren mouthed, raking her fingers through her hair. It was an exercise in futility in Nick’s opinion. The moment she’d exited the shower he’d been on her like white on rice, and now her hair looked like a fabulous, wild tumble of untamed curls and waves. Bed hair in its truest definition.
“Mum?” Josh called again.
Closer. So close Nick swore he smelt his son’s deodorant.
With one last desperate rake at her hair, Lauren hurried across her bedroom and stepped out into the hallway. “I called back to you, Josh,” Nick heard her say. “Are you deaf? Didn’t you wear headphones? I was packing away the ironing.”
There was a pause, followed by Josh saying, “Oh. All right. Where’s Nick?”
“In the loo,” Lauren answered and Nick had to bite his tongue to stop laughing. “What? Rock stars aren’t allowed to pee like the rest of us?”
“Gross, Mum.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty filthy, Miss Robbins.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’d know, Rhys. Does your mum know you’re here?”
Nick heard Josh’s best friend mumble something and then their footfalls echoed down the hallway, away from Lauren’s bedroom.
He stood still for a long second, listening. For what, he wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, he didn’t want Josh to find him in Lauren’s room. Now, where the hell was the loo? And if he flushed it, would Josh hear it wherever in the house Lauren had led the boys?
“Coast is clear.”
It was Aslin’s voice Nick heard just outside the doorway, a decidedly laughing note to his British accent.
“And the toilet is across the hall, door next to the bathroom. Just in case you’re quizzed.”
Nick stepped out of Lauren’s bedroom, giving his bodyguard a wide grin.
Aslin cocked an eyebrow back. “Nice trousers.”
Nick chuckled, beginning to walk down the hallway. “How was the ride?”
Aslin cast him a sidewards glance. “Josh is a great kid. Smart. Funny.” He stopped walking and put his hand on Nick’s arm. It was an uncommon move. Aslin was the closest thing to an uncle that Nick had, but he rarely touched Nick unless it was to protect him, or shield him from some over-zealous fan. Nick frowned up at him, something about the man’s serious expression making his chest tight.
“Don’t fuck it up, Nick. You can’t walk away from this one. If you do, you’ll destroy three lives, not just your own.”
“I’m not going to, mate. I love her. I never stopped. It just took me too fucking long to realise it.”
“And now you do?”
Nick smiled. “I’m going to be a dad. And if she lets me, a husband.”
He turned away from Aslin’s stunned face, incapable of stopping the spring in his step. Rounding the entry way into the kitchen, he grinned at Josh and dropped into the empty seat beside the teenager.
“Holy shit, Josh!” the boy—Rhys—burst out, his eyes wide, his stare jerking backward and forward between Nick and Josh. “I always said you looked like Nick Blackthorne, but now you’re in the same room together… Fuck, he could be your dad.”
Chapter Ten
Lauren’s stomach dropped. Her heart smacked into her throat. She stared at her son, her cheeks burning. Oh God, why did she have to blush? Why did her stupid face have to turn so red?
Words scrambled in her mind. Responses, deflections, all tumbling over one another.
“Dude,” Rhys laughed, “Nick Blackthorne is wearing your tracky dacks.”
Josh frowned, jerking his stare to Nick’s legs, to Nick’s face and then back to hers. “Mum, why is Nick wearing my tracksuit pants?”
She opened her mouth and heard Rhys say, “How long ago did you say your mum knew him?” Her son’s best friend, a boy she’d watched grow up, a nice kid who always had a slightly skewed view of subtlety, laughed again. “I mean, seriously, check you both out.”
Fire razed through Lauren’s face. Josh slid his stare to Nick again, his jaw bunching, his throat working. His eyebrows pulled into a deeper frown and then he was looking at her once more, his eyes, so like his father’s, unreadable.
“Rhys,” she blurted, “I don’t think—”
“How long ago did you know Nick, Mum?” Josh asked, his voice steady.
She swallowed. Flicked Nick another look. The room roared. Or maybe that was the blood in her ears? Her lips prickled. “Josh—” his name was a just a croak, “—this is…I-I…you need to…”
“Holy shit, dude,” Rhys whispered. The awe-struck exclamation speared into Lauren’s sanity like a blade of ice. “Nick Blackthorne is your dad?”
Josh shook his head, never taking his stare from Lauren. “No. Mum would have told me if that was the case, right, Mum?” He sucked in a breath, something in his face cutting into Lauren’s soul. Something she never ever wanted to see in her son’s eyes—accusation? Mistrust? Her heart tore.
“Josh…” she began.
He shook his head, stopping her. “If I was Nick Blackthorne’s son you would have told me, right?”
She couldn’t answer him. She couldn’t. Lord, what did she say?
He jerked his stare, now wide-eyed, to Nick. “I mean, if I were your son…if you were my dad…she would have said something, would have told me, right? Right?”
Nick licked his lips, his jaw as tight as his son’s. “Josh, we need to talk. Your mother…I…”
It was Nick’s failure to deny it all that destroyed her son. Lauren could see that. She watched his shock, his pain and then his anger eat him up, his young face crumple under the revelation. Watched him shake his head, watched him stagger back a step. “This is bullshit. Bullshit.”
Lauren’s stomach rolled. She stepped toward him, reached for him. “Josh, please listen.”
But he jerked away from her, his glare jumping from her to Nick and back to her again. And it was a glare, a dark, angry, baleful glare. “What? Wasn’t I good enough to be Nick Blackthorne’s kid? Is that it? Did he pay you off? Did he pay you to shut up about me?”
“Dude,” Rhys whispered, shocked disbelief turning the word to a groan.
“Josh.” Nick made a move toward him but Josh hurried back another step, his hip colliding with the kitchen counter, his stare fixed on Lauren.
“And why’s he here now then? Why the fuck is he standing in my home wearing my fucking tracksuit pants if he’s not my fucking father?”
“Enough, Josh,” Lauren snapped. Her gut rolled. Her breath tried to choke her. Oh Lord, this was her fault. All her fault.
“No, it’s not enough, Mum.” He stomped his foot on the floor. That baleful hurt still etched his face, turning it into a twisted mask. “How many times did I ask you who my dad was? How many? You never once thought you could tell me? I thought he was a prick, or that he hit you, or he was in prison. Shit, I thought he must be married to someone else. I grew up thinking all that kind of shit. Do you know how fucking hard it was going to school the week before Father’s Day when I was little? When all the teachers had us kids make were Father’s Day cards and presents? Do you know how fucking hard it was going to soccer and seeing everyone else’s dads there?” He clenched his fists, pressed them to his face, his body shaking. “Jesus, Mum, do you know how fucking hard it was not having a dad to talk to when I had my first fucking wet dream? When I had to talk to you about it? Do you? And all this time I had a dad. I had a dad and you kept that from me?”
“Josh,” Rhys said, shuffling a step forward, “dude, you’re going to bust a valve.”
Josh’s face contorted. He turned away from them all, thumped his fist against the counter. “Do you know how many times I lay awake at night pretending I had a dad? That he would walk in the door one day. And when he finally does, he’s Nick fucking Blackthorne and he doesn’t let on who he is at all.”
Lauren’s heart tore open. Josh’s anguish cut into her. God, she’d done this to her son. “I’m sorry, Josh,” she whispered. Tears stung her eyes. Turned him into a blur of distor
ted colour. She blinked, swiping at her face. “I never meant this…any of this. I was only…” She paused, bit her lips. “I was only thinking of you.”
Josh turned back to her, slowly, his eyes red, his cheeks wet. “No, Mum. You were thinking of you.”
“Josh.” Nick’s voice was low. Steady but cut with a strength Lauren didn’t miss. “That’s not fair. You don’t know why she didn’t tell you. But you’re right about one thing. I was a prick, a selfish, thoughtless prick and because of that she did what she thought was the best for you.”
Josh scrubbed a balled fist at his cheeks. He didn’t look at any of them. “I’ve had enough of this shit,” he muttered. “I’m outta here.”
He pushed past them, shouldering his way between Lauren and Nick, eyes downcast, jaw muscles locked.
“Josh.” Lauren turned, trying to snag his arm. Lord, how many times had she said his name? Was she incapable of saying anything else? So pathetic a mum she couldn’t think of anything but her son’s name to try to ease his pain? “Josh,” she said again, hurrying after him.
But he didn’t stop. She saw Aslin move, like a mountain moving toward the kitchen doorway. She saw Josh quicken his pace. The bodyguard’s gaze flicked to her and then Josh burst into a sprint, running from the kitchen.
“Josh!” Lauren called, running after him.
Yeah, that’s right, say his name one more time. That’ll fix everything.
He didn’t stop. The bang of the front door slamming shut was the only answer she got. Her feet stumbled, shock sinking like a pike into her brain, and she bit back a sob. Lord, how had this happened?
Every maternal instinct in her being told her to chase after him. To hold him. To take his pain and confusion away. Every other instinct—those of a person who’d experienced heartache—knew nothing would ease his pain at this very moment. Her son was angry with her, the angriest he’d ever been, and he had every right to be. She’d fucked up. Big time.
“I’ll go after him, Miss R.”
Lauren flinched. Rhys. She’d forgotten all about Rhys. She jerked her burning stare to her son’s best friend, shame flooding through her. He hurried past, giving her a wry smile. The expression was at once totally uncharacteristic on the teenager’s normally cheeky face and sympathetic beyond his young years. Fresh shame crashed over her, and then again when the front door banged like a shot over a silent battlefield.
Lauren let out a choked cry. Oh God, what had she done?
“He’ll be okay.” Nick’s hand smoothed up her back. “He just needs some time.”
Lauren closed her eyes. She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I messed everything up.” She shook her head, stepping away from him. His fingers slipped from her shoulder, trailing over her back as she twisted from his touch. “Everything.”
“It wasn’t exactly how I saw things going.” His voice played over her nerves, so familiar, so soothing and yet so damn frustrating and confusing. “Do you want me to send Aslin after him?”
A lump sat in her throat, thick and heavy. She tried to swallow it away but it wouldn’t go. Just like the guilt in her belly, it wouldn’t go.
You should have told Josh. The second Nick turned up here in Murriundah, you should have told Josh who his father was. Instead, what did you do? Fuck. Fuck his father over and over again like a star-struck groupie.
She opened her eyes, studying the empty hallway stretching away from the kitchen. “No. I don’t want anything from you, Nick.”
“Lauren—” he reached for her but she shrugged his hand off her arm, “—don’t be rash. Please, babe, don’t be rash. Not after—”
“He’s your son,” she went on, ignoring the pressure on her chest, the numb emptiness in her heart, “and I can’t keep you from seeing him, but I can’t see you.”
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “Why? Because this is my fault?”
“No.” She turned away from him, from the empty hallway stretching away to forever. “It’s mine. All mine. I was too scared to tell Josh who his father was when he was old enough to know and I was too scared to tell him when you turned up at my house.”
“But you don’t have to be scared any more. He knows. What is there to be scared of?”
The lump in Lauren’s throat grew thicker. “I’m scared of you, Nick. I’m scared of how much I love you, how much I need you. I’m defenseless against you and that scares the shit out of me. I’m a chicken, Nick. I know this. But I can’t spend my life fighting the rest of the world for you.” She snorted, a contemptuous little sound that tore at her soul. “I failed the first time I tried and never recovered.”
Nick’s jaw muscles knotted. He studied her, silent.
Take it back, Lauren. Take it all back. You can make it work this time. Take it back. Before you lose him again.
It was a beautiful fantasy. The kindergarten teacher and the rock star. A beautiful, wonderful, romantic fantasy. But it was just that—a fantasy.
She gave Nick a slow, sad smile. “You know the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result, right?”
He shook his head, his eyes never leaving her face. “I’d call it the definition of optimistic hope.”
A laugh bubbled up Lauren’s throat, fragile and soft and surprising. “You are a man of words, Nick. Powerful, soul-moving words. And it would be selfish of me to expect those words should only be for—”
A sharp, shrill ring made them both flinch. Nick bit back a growled curse. She crossed her kitchen to where her phone hung on the wall, a prickling tension sweeping over her. It would be Josh. Telling her he’d calmed down. Telling her she was a horrible mum. Telling her he didn’t want anything to do with her again. Telling her he was—
She picked up the handset and put it to her ear. “Robbins’ residence.”
“I can’t find him, Miss R,” Rhys burst out. “I lost him in the dark and now I can’t find him.”
Ice-cold pressure crushed Lauren. Her face must have told Nick what was going on, that or he could hear Rhys’s panic through the phone from where he stood. He turned to Aslin. “Go look. Find where he is, make sure he’s okay and give me a call.”
The massive man nodded, flicked Lauren an unreadable look and was gone. If she hadn’t been so worried about Josh, she would have been impressed. But she was, and she couldn’t be. Not at the moment.
“Miss Robbins?” Rhys’s voice in her ear made her start. “Do you want me to come back? I’ve texted him but he’s not answering.”
She scrubbed her free hand over her eyes. How could she forget about her son’s best friend again? Still on the other end of the phone line, still out in the cold?
God, you’re a woeful piece of work, Lauren.
“Go home, Rhys,” she instructed softly, letting him hear a calm she didn’t feel. “It’s too cold to be outside now.” She slid her gaze to Nick where he stood watching her from the kitchen door, his face a study in controlled worry. “Josh’ll calm down.”
“If you’re sure, Miss R.” His teeth chattered through the response. “You know Josh. He’s gotta blow off some steam a bit and then he’ll be good. Nuthin’ pisses him off for long. And I mean, Nick Blackthorne’s his dad. The dude’s gotta be freaking stoked about that.”
Lauren felt her lips curl into a wry smile. “You’re right, Rhys. And he probably will be once he forgives his mum for being a shit.”
Rhys laughed. “You’re not a shit, Miss R. Just really good at keepin’ secrets.”
The churning knot in her belly tightened. “Where are you? Need me to come get you? Take you home?”
“Nah, I can see the lights of my house from here. Tell Josh to text me when he gets home.”
“Okay. Will you text me if he turns up at your house? Even if he doesn’t want to talk to me, I’d like to know I can call off the dog squad.”
Rhys laughed again at her desperate attempt at levity. “Shall do, Miss Robbins. Say goodnight to Nick for me. Tell him it was epic me
eting him…err, right up to the last bit, that is.”
Lauren chuckled, even though her belly was still twisting. “Good night, Rhys. Send me a text me when you’re home, okay? And tell your mum I’ll call her tomorrow.”
“I will. She heard Nick was in town. The barkeeper at the Cricketer’s Arms has been telling everyone.” The boy laughed again. “Wait until I tell her he’s at your house. I bet she’ll invite herself to breakfast.”
Lauren closed her eyes again. That it was assumed Nick would still be at her house in the morning didn’t surprise her. Talk travelled fast in a small town like Murriundah, even faster when it came to Nick Blackthorne. What surprised her was the fact that no one had guessed who Josh’s father was before now.
It would have made things so much easier.
No, it wouldn’t. Her not being a chicken, that would have made things easier. But she was. And now here she was, fucking up the lives of everyone she loved and cared for.
“Tell her I’ll have the coffee brewing,” she said into the phone, “but she’s got to bring the croissants.”
Rhys chuckled. “I’ll keep texting Josh. Just in case, okay?”
“Okay. Night, Rhys.”
She returned the phone to its cradle, a sigh slipping from her before she could stop it.
“He’ll be okay.” Nick stepped up behind her, smoothing his hands up her arms. “Aslin’s out there looking for him. If the guy can find me a Vegemite sandwich in the middle of Yugoslavia he can find Josh.”
Lauren knew he was trying to put her mind at rest. She knew that. And for a dizzying moment the urge to lean back into his strength, his warmth, flooded through her, so powerful she almost did. Almost. To feel his arms wrap around her, to feel his solid presence support her. God, how many times over the last fifteen years had she wished for that very thing? Too many times. Until she’d finally realized it was a stupid, empty dream and gotten on with her life. Learned to lean on herself.
She walked away from him, out of the kitchen and into the living room, searching for her satchel. It was in here somewhere, and in it was her mobile. It made no sense, but her focus had become finding her phone. When she found her phone, she’d know what to do next.
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