“I—yeah,” she stammers, blowing out a breath, her hair flicking out of her face with the force. She touches her cheeks, the slight shaking in her hands not going unnoticed. I want nothing more than to ask her what’s going on, to make sure she’s okay. But something in her eyes stops me.
I gently run my fingers across her wrists before resisting going any further and taking a step away. “So, Tris ran out with the kids when he got my message that I was coming over?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know, he came home and said he was taking them out and I had the night off.”
“Night off, huh? You going to go out and let loose?” I raise a brow. “It is Friday after all.”
She smirks, pushing off the wall and squeezing past me, picking up the box and pushing it underneath her bed on the other side of the room. “Sometimes I wonder how anyone takes you seriously as a lawyer.” She stands up, walking over to her small kitchen murmuring, “Let loose,” before scoffing.
“Because I’m a perpetual badass… and I’m good with my mouth.” Her eyes widen. Most people would be embarrassed with the innuendo, but I roll with it, crossing my arms over my chest.
She rolls her eyes before pulling open the door to her refrigerator. “Want one?” she asks, holding out a bottle of water toward me. Water. This is what she’s doing on a Friday night?
I raise my other brow and shake my head. “Nope. This isn’t happening.”
“Huh?” She scrunches up her nose as I step toward her, taking the bottle out of her hand and placing it on the counter.
I tap the end of her nose with my pointer finger. “Get dressed, we’re going out.”
“What—I… huh?”
I stop by the front door, my gaze roaming over her sweatpants and tank top. A tight, tight, tank top that doesn’t leave anything to the imagination. “Well you can’t go out in that, and you need to eat, right?”
“I… I need to eat?” She frowns, still not having moved from the spot she’s standing in as she stares at me like I’ve got two heads.
“Last time I checked it’s how us humans functioned. So yeah, you need to eat, I need to eat. Let’s go and eat together.” I motion toward her closet. “Go and change and I’ll meet you in my car out front.”
I don’t give her time to protest as I walk out of the pool house, adjusting myself as the tight tank top invades my mind.
The soft click of the door snaps me out of my thoughts. I don’t move, watching as Nate saunters across the backyard and back through the house.
I’ve known him since I first came to work for Tristan—he’s not only Tristan’s best friend but also Clay and Izzie’s uncle. He’s a permanent fixture around here, which is why I need to not let the butterflies swarming in my stomach affect me.
From the first time I met Nate, there was something in his eyes that called to me—the sadness; the grief he was going through from losing his cousin. He hid it well with his jokes and his addictive laughter, trying to keep a front on for the husband and kids she left behind, but I saw it.
Over the years it slowly dissipated, but I still feel some kind of connection to him. A connection I knew I shouldn’t—couldn’t—have with him.
We’ve become close over the last six years, but I always keep him at arm's length. He can’t know the real me. The me I pushed deep down and locked away all of those years ago.
My gaze flicks over to my bed then to the box I can see sticking out from underneath it. It brings a whole new meaning to “monsters under the bed.”
What I should do is lock the house, get into my bed and pull the covers over my head and pretend he didn’t just tell me we’re going out for something to eat.
He’d been so close to seeing what was in the box, another couple of inches and he would have. There’s no way he could have known what it means, at least not unless he opened it and saw the words written inside.
Why did I keep it? Why didn’t I throw it away?
“You know why,” a voice whispers in the back of my head.
The sound of a horn blaring makes me jump, my hand slapping against my chest as my heart beats an erratic rhythm. Goddamn Nate.
He isn’t going to leave, I know that. I sigh. To be honest, I need to get out of this house, away from the box and everything it means. I’ll give myself one night—one night where I forget and try to have fun with some adult company for once.
Switching the light off in my little kitchen, I head to my closet, grabbing a pair of dark-blue skinny jeans and an oversized gray sweater. I put on a coat of mascara and swipe some balm over my lips before pulling off my sweats and replacing them with my jeans. My sweater goes over my tank top before I run my fingers through my dark-blond hair, trying to tame it.
I stare into the reflection in the bathroom again, cautious as to not get as lost as I did earlier. Shrugging my shoulders, I declare myself ready and switch the light off before walking between the bed and coffee table in the main room of the pool house. Pushing my feet into a pair of booties, I grab my wallet and head out of the door, leaving the main light on for when I get home.
Locking up the main house behind me, the new front light Tris installed guides my way to the obnoxious sports car that waits with a grinning Nate inside.
That thing probably cost more money than I’ll ever see in this lifetime.
I pull the door open, careful not to mark the paintwork as I do and then sink into the leather seats that are so soft I feel like I’m sitting in a cloud that hugs my ass.
“Ready?” he asks, placing his hand on the gearstick.
“Yep,” I answer, not willing to look into his eyes. Instead, I turn my head, staring out of the passenger window as he makes his way down the driveway, cursing up a storm as the little gravel stones go flying up underneath us.
He starts to talk as we get to the bottom of the driveway—telling me about the new interns that have started at the firm he co-owns—but I’m not really listening as he turns left, heading away from the house.
Staring at the sky that’s starting to darken, my thoughts swirl. Every shadow has my pulse racing a little faster.
Are they out there watching me? If they are: how long have they known where I’ve been?
My gaze flits back and forth with every little movement. I’m being irrational and paranoid, at least that’s what I keep telling myself—but am I?
The sound of the purring engine being switched off as the car comes to a complete stop has me turning my head to face Nate, catching the reflection of lights outside a building that’s packed with patrons.
“Where are we?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
“Gillies sports bar, but we’re not going inside until you tell me what’s up.”
“What?” I frown, placing some hair behind my ear. “Nothing’s up.”
“You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, Amelia. You forget what I do for work.” His gaze flits between my eyes. “I read people for a living, I know when someone’s lying. Plus, you’ve barely said a word the whole journey and that’s not like you at all.”
I smirk. “Maybe that’s because you can talk enough for the both of us.” I shake my head. “You’re like an old lady gossiping.”
He chuckles, the sound bouncing around the small car. “Joke all you like, but there’s something up with you.” He raises a brow, but when I don’t answer he huffs out a breath. “I won’t keep nagging at you but know if you need to talk I’m here in all my glory.”
I roll my eyes at him, trying my best to show him there’s nothing wrong when in fact it’s the total opposite. “Be happy with the knowledge if I need to bare my soul, you’ll be the first person I ask to come over and drink tea.”
His eyes flash with laughter before he shakes his head and pushes out of the car. I follow suit, closing the door behind me softly as he waits for me.
He lifts his arm when I come closer, seeming to hesitate. I don’t give him the chance to touch me, instead I walk ahead, pulling the door open and stepping inside the
bar. My eyes soak it all in, the sounds of people laughing and having a good time; the smell of beer and burgers; the clanging of pool balls as they hit each other.
The bar to my right runs the length of the entire room, every bar stool taken. TV screens hang over the top of the bar as well as behind it. Nate leads me to one of the booths placed along the windows looking out onto the small parking lot.
He places his hand at the small of my back, his palm feeling like it’s burning through my thin sweater. There go those damn flutters again.
Trying to concentrate on where he’s steering me, my gaze flits to the several game tables before Nate comes to a stop about halfway down and tilts his head toward a vacant booth. I push into it, sliding along the dark-brown leather that matches the stools under the wooden bar.
He doesn’t join me and I raise a brow.
“What do you want to drink? I’ll go and get us a food menu, too.”
I look around to see what other people are drinking before I answer, “I’ll have a bottle of beer.”
He nods his head before he spins around, pushing through the crowd to the bar. Several different sports play on the TVs—a football game, a baseball re-run, and a boxing match. The shouts when someone scores reverberate throughout the room, and I can’t help the grin lifting up my lips.
Tilting my head back, I stare at my skewed reflection in the overhead industrial cone-shaped light. The lights from the TV flash off it, creating its own beat as Nate sidles back up to the booth, placing my bottle of beer in front of me and handing me a menu.
“So…” I start, my gaze skimming over the laminated card. “What’s good to eat here?”
“Everything, but I’d recommend one of the burgers with the sweet potato fries instead of regular.” His gaze wanders over to one of the TVs and he raises his hand. “Come on! That was in!”
I smirk before choosing what I want to eat and sliding the menu back over to him. I can’t help but stare as he gets into the game, his eyes flashing and his hands clenching into fists as he jerks forward, almost as if he’s playing the game himself. I could stare at his striking face all day. Wait—what?
“Nate?” He doesn’t answer me, too enthralled with the game. “Nate?” I try again, only this time I place my hand on his arm, squeezing softly to get his attention.
His head whips around, his eyes focusing on mine before they flick down to my hand on his arm and back up.
He clears his throat. “Food. Right. What do you want and I’ll go up and order?”
“I’ll have the bacon cheeseburger with regular fries.”
“Trust me, you want the sweet potato fries.”
“Trust me,” I say, mocking him with a raised brow. “I need my carbs, ergo, I’ll have the regular fries.”
“Sweet potatoes are carbs.” He shrugs. “But it’s your funeral. Don’t try stealing mine when they bring them over.”
“Yeah, okay.” I snort before lowering my voice. “Health freak.”
He untucks the light-blue shirt he’s wearing from his suit pants before lifting it up. My eyes widen, taking in his washboard abs. “Just saying: I didn’t get these from sitting down on my ass eating regular fries all day long.”
I swallow hard as he keeps his shirt raised, my gaze counting all six of his abs and the cut muscles with a happy trail leading down to his… oh God, stop looking!
I try to tear my eyes away but it’s hard—so hard. When I finally manage to, my gaze flicks up to his and I can see the amusement flash in his green eyes. I get lost in them for a second as he leans forward, letting his shirt drop and covering all of his… sexiness.
“I—” I clear my throat as he comes even closer, his breath skating across my cheek as he lays his hands on the table on either side of me.
“Cat got your tongue?”
My breath catches as the scent of his cologne wraps around me—sandalwood with a hint of lemon. “I—” Ugh, how can he render me effectively speechless? This isn’t good, I need to—
He leans even closer causing goose bumps to race over my skin as he breathes me in in the same way I am. My eyes flutter closed.
“I’ll still take those regular fries,” I manage to force out.
That breaks the spell we seemed to be under because he pulls back, standing up straight and tucking the front of his shirt into his pants again like there wasn’t just fireworks exploding between us. “What the lady wants, the lady gets. I’ll be right back.”
I sag into my seat when he steps away, feeling like I can finally take a much-needed breath. It’s not the first time he’s made me feel like I can’t control myself, and I’m almost certain it won’t be the last.
Not that I’ll go there with him. I don’t think. No. No, I can’t go there, not with Nate. Even if his washboard abs and happy trail make me extra happy.
He comes back a few minutes later, settling down in the booth a foot away from me, his eyes fixed on the TV screen and the game that’s playing. I’m glad for the reprieve from him, even if it is only for a few minutes.
The food comes to the table as the game finishes up and I pick up one of my fries, popping it into my mouth as I stare at his plate. He’s too engrossed with his burger so he doesn’t see my hand reach over and pick up one of his sweet potato fries until it’s too late.
“What was that? I told you there was no touching of my fries once they came.”
I shrug, chewing on it, hating to admit he was right. They’re delicious. “Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” He raises a brow in question. “They’re okay, I suppose.” I turn away, picking up my burger and moaning as the greasiness hits my tongue, the mouthwatering bacon and beef of the burger melting in my mouth.
He watches me for a beat before picking his own up and taking a bite. We eat in silence until I place half of my burger down, picking up my beer and taking a long swallow.
“You were right,” I say. “That was the best burger I’ve had in years.” I push the plate away, knowing if I eat anymore I’ll have to undo my jeans from the bloating that is bound to ensue.
“Of course I was right, I’m always right,” he replies, biting into the last of his burger and wiping his hands on a napkin. “How’re the kids anyway? I’ve not been able to get around much lately thanks to work.”
“They’re good.” I nod, glad we’re on mutual conversational ground. I could talk about the kids all day long and not get bored. “Clay’s always got his nose in a book and Izzie is still obsessed with chocolate sauce. The usual.”
The genuine smile creeping up his face makes me grin. I know he loves those kids as much as I do. “I’ll have to get her out of that habit. If she wants to be a ballerina like her mom was then she can’t be guzzling bottles of chocolate sauce every day.” He chuckles before his face turns serious. “She is still dancing, isn’t she?”
“Of course she is.” I tilt my head to the side, watching him intently.
“Good, good.” He pauses, looking down at his hands that are laced together on the top of the wooden table. “I thought after Tris lost his temper with me at her dance show he’d try and stop her from dancing.” He looks back up at me. “It reminds him too much of Nat, but he’s got to learn to live without her.”
My mouth opens, no words coming out. I agree with Nate but I hate feeling like I’m stuck in the middle. I’ve seen the way Tris is with the kids, I’ve been in that house for almost six years as he’s grieved and not changed a single thing inside it. Sometimes it feels like Natalia’s ghost surrounds us there.
“Yeah,” I say tentatively. I want to tell him I see the way Tris’s eyes glaze over when he watches Izzie dance, how he seems to be transported to another time. But I don’t, I give him an open look instead, silently telling him I’ll listen even if it means I won’t give him my own opinion.
“Right. Employer.” I give him a small smile but he continues on. “You know you’re more than that to him though, you’re like a sister. That means you get to have an opinion,
but I respect you not voicing it.” He takes a swig of his beer before running his hand through his soft-looking brown hair. “Something needs to give with him. It’s nearly been six years since we lost her yet he acts like it was only the other day.”
My chest expands as I take a breath. “You’re right, I do get to have an opinion, Nate.” I place my hand over the top of his. “It may have been six years, but you can’t put a time cap on grief. He needs to work through it on his own, at his own pace.”
He sighs, pulling his hand away. “People grieve in their own way, I get that. We all had to grieve, but… six years? It’s not just him dealing with his grief, we all get the brunt of it. And Izzie and Clay? They deserve more than him pretending like Nat didn’t exist.”
I narrow my eyes at him, trying my hardest to not spew out all the words I want to. “You don’t get it.” I shake my head at him, not bothered in the slightest when his eyes flare. “You can’t tell people how to get over a loss like that. He was there. He watched her die and then was left dealing with everything.” I make a noise in the back of my throat. Maybe I’m not as good at keeping my mouth shut as I thought. “You should be glad he did what he did and put everything into being the dad he is. He could have easily switched himself off, but he didn’t.” I keep my eyes connected to his. “Yes, it’s been six years, but who are you to say how he deals with everything? You know Tris as well as I do. So you know… you know if you push too far, he’ll slam those walls right down in your face.”
“You didn’t know him before everything. And I’m not saying he isn’t a good dad, he’s one of the best. But you can’t deny he isn’t all there with them.” His fingers tap a beat on the table. “And it’s not just about them, what about the people that have been left behind because he refuses to talk to us properly?” His eyes flash with sadness before he quickly looks back at the TV screens. “I didn’t mean that he isn’t entitled to be sad and grieve in the way he wants to, I just… is it so bad to want my best friend back? I’ve already lost one.”
A lump forms in my throat at his last words. I want to tell him he’ll get his best friend back at some stage, but I’d be lying because I don’t know if Tris will ever be the same person again. Something like that changes you irrefutably.
Fighting Our Way (Broken Tracks Series Book 2) Page 3
