by Nana Malone
A fist wrapped around her heart and squeezed. “How can you say that?”
“I can say that because I see it written all over you. You’re already trying to run.”
“I’m not running!” Liar. “I have shit to do.”
“Okay fine. You have shit to do. But I’m not just talking about today. Since I’ve seen you again, you’ve been running from me, from this. Which is bullshit because we obviously are pretty fucking explosive together.”
Desire spiked through her. Easy does it. “And what about you? You were the first one to point out that this thing is only temporary. I’m not the only one running. You made it clear you wanted nothing to do with your past. And now you’re changing your mind. What happens when you change it again and pull one of your disappearing acts? I’m not picking up the pieces again. You don’t get to do that to my family again, so no, I’m not exactly eager to tell them that I found you.”
He flinched as if she’d struck him. Immediately, she wanted to take the words back, but she knew she couldn’t. Besides, it was the truth. It was one thing to enjoy Nate. To indulge every fantasy that sixteen-year-old her ever had about him. But getting close and attached was not a good idea. He would hurt her again.
“So it all boils down to that?” His voice was soft.
“That’s all there is. Fundamentally, that’s who you are. You’ll stick around for a while, but then you’ll leave. I’m an adult now. I can handle it. And when you’re bored, or move on, or whatever, I’ll be ready. But I’m not dragging everyone else through that. I’m not letting them love you again only to get their hearts broken.”
Chapter 17
The next morning at breakfast, Nate checked his phone for the fifteenth time hoping for a text, a missed call, hell even some Morse Code from Delilah. When Lach had called and told him to meet at their usual spot, he’d said yes, hoping to have a distraction from thinking about her.
When she’d left his place, things had been tense, but he’d still asked her to text him when she got home. She’d nodded absently but hadn’t looked him in the eye when she left. The kicker was, he could pinpoint the exact moment this morning when he’d lost her. That stupid 911 email from Trent telling him to call right away. And of course, she’d seen his face and asked for an explanation. One he hadn’t been able to give. Fuck. And then he’d pushed her into a corner, having a good idea how she’d react.
He was the idiot who’d thought last night changed things. No, you’re the idiot who thought you could forget the past. There were no bygones. He’d hurt her when he left seven years ago. She hadn’t forgotten it, and he’d been an idiot to think she could just get over it. It didn’t matter that he had his reasons for leaving. The outcome was still the same. Delilah hurt.
“Yo, earth to Nate.”
Nate blinked up at Lach. “Yeah, sorry. What’s up?”
Lach just laughed. “Dude, where are you. And don’t give me that bullshit clammed-up thing you do.”
Nate gritted his teeth. “I don’t have a thing. I’m just—”
“Private. Yeah, I know.” Lach shook his head and took a drink of his coffee. “But if you did want to share and shit, I’m a halfway decent listener. Unless, of course, the Knicks are playing.”
He’d never had anyone he could talk to. Or maybe you never gave anyone half a chance. Nate eyed his friend. Maybe it was time he started.
Before he knew it, words spilled forth. He told Lach about Trent and the Donovans and how he’d left. Unable to stem the flow of words, he told Lach about his childhood and living on the streets. He talked until he couldn’t find any more words. The only thing he didn’t talk about was the one thing that strangled him. Delilah.
When Nate finally looked up from his hands, Lach studied him carefully, but there was no pity in his gaze. “That sucks, man. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well. That’s why I don’t talk about shit.”
“Delilah know about your brother being back?”
Nate shook his head. “No. I’m keeping her out of it.”
Lach sighed and sat back, crossing his arms. “You sure that’s a good idea? Besides you obviously having a thing for her, she’s your fixer. She needs to know about this.”
Nate shook his head. “I’m not telling her. The further she stays away from Trent, the better.”
Lach narrowed his eyes. “Is that for her protection or yours?”
“Hers.” Nate shook his head. “Besides, she’s not exactly taking my calls right now.”
“What did you do to fuck it up?”
“I didn’t fuck it up.” He squirmed. Okay, so maybe he had fucked it up a little.
Lach smirked. “Oh, yeah, then why don’t you have a shit-eating grin on your ugly mug? Instead, you’re doing the sad, lovelorn thing.”
Nate sighed. “I picked a fight. Pushed too hard.”
Lach’s chuckle started low, then built to a boom. The women at the next table looked over with interest. As if they wanted to be let in on the joke. “Of course you did.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that’s your M.O.” Lach shook his head. “Let me guess, you’re playing it pretty close to the vest. Not sharing yourself with her.”
Nate didn’t appreciate the attempted armchair diagnosis. “Bullshit.” He wasn’t that transparent. Was he?
“You finally got close to her, you freaked out, then found a way to push her away. I don’t need the particulars, unless you feel like sharing the good parts.”
“Fuck off,” he growled.
Lach laughed again. “So there are good parts.”
Nate scowled at his friend. “None of your business.”
“Of course. Except the lovely Miss Donovan seems like a smart woman. She’s clearly figured out you won’t stick around and is keeping her feelings to herself. Only problem is, you’ve fallen for her, and you don’t want her to keep shit to herself, and it pisses you off, so you’re pushing her away before she can run.”
Nate rubbed at the burning spot over his chest. Delilah did matter to him. And he wanted to matter to her. He wanted her to tell her family. It terrified the shit out of him, but he wanted to be wrapped into that kind of family again, where everyone knew his shit and loved him anyway. It hurt that she didn’t even want to tell them about him.
Maybe it was time to let someone in.
“She went home to see her family today.”
“And she didn’t ask you to go with her?” Lach shook his head. “Maybe she thinks it’s too soon for that. Cut her a little slack.”
Nate frowned. “It’s not so much that, as it is she won’t even tell them about me.”
“Well, didn’t you say you had a complicated past with them? Maybe they’d blow a gasket or something.”
Truth was, he had no idea how they’d react. When he’d first seen her again, he’d assumed they’d want to see him. But what if they didn’t? Whet if they’d shut the door on him the way he’d shut it on them? The burning in his chest grew more intense.
“I don’t know.”
“And you’re pissed that she’s going home and not going to tell them? You’d leave her to do that all by herself?”
Shit. “Well, no. Not exactly.” Except exactly.
Lach rolled his eyes. “You realize even I think that’s a dick move, right?”
It was a dick move. He knew it. He’d known it when he was asking her if she was going to tell them about him. But a small part of him had wanted to know if they’d be happy to hear about him before he committed fully to going back. Yeah, he was a dick. He sighed. “Yeah, I’m a douche.”
“You don’t get any argument here.” Lach frowned before taking a bite of his waffle. “Have you ever even contacted them? You know, to say thanks and sorry. I know you don’t exactly revisit shit, but you said they saved your life. Did you ever say thank you?”
No. He hadn’t ever said thank you properly. He’d let his shame stop him from doing so. But thanks to
them, he had the kind of life he’d only ever dreamed about. Maybe it was time to put an end to that.
Chapter 18
Nate’s breakfast with Lach had him reevaluating some things. First, he was a bigger prick than he’d ever thought. So that had to change. Asking Delilah to be the one to tell her family about him was a dickish thing to do. And he’d been a coward for long enough.
A part of him had figured they'd get around to her family sooner or later. But in the heated darkness of his bed last night, he’d put that off for sometime way in the future. He hadn’t factored in them becoming an issue so soon. More like, he hadn’t figured on having to face the music so soon.
Except, here he was, about to walk right up to the cheery Victorian he'd called home for three years. There was a 1968 Mustang in the driveway. Mint condition. No doubt it was Dylan's. He'd talked about nothing else but muscle cars for most of the time Nate had been there.
In the front yard, there were a couple of skateboards and a basketball. That meant John hadn’t been out into the yard yet because he would have had a fit. Keeping the outside of the house tidied up had been one of Nate’s chores. A pang of sadness accompanied the spear of regret that pierced his heart. He'd walked away from all of this. He'd said goodbye. Or not. He'd been the one to turn his back. And he hated that it had taken something like Delilah walking out on him to bring him home.
He released the latch on the front gate and let himself in. No alarms sounded. No one came running out screaming, “Imposter, imposter.” No dogs signaled to the bustling family inside that someone was here.
Once he reached the front door, his finger halted over the buzzer. He could still turn back. No one would ever need to know he was here. No one had seen him. No harm, no foul. He'd see Delilah at work and their events, but he could let her go. Couldn't he? He could pretend that having her in his arms again, just for a moment, didn't feel like Christmas and his birthday rolled into one. Or rather his birthday and Christmas at the Donovan’s rolled into one.
Don't be a coward. Show her you mean business. Take the hit of pain and go back to your family.
Self consciously, he wiped the heels of his palms on his jeans, then he rang the doorbell. Inside, the racket was at death metal decibels, so he worried no one could hear it. Maybe there was still time to run. But even as he poised on the precipice of flight, the door opened.
Nate held his breath as he and Sarah Donovan stared at each other. It wasn't until his head began to swim that he remembered to do the whole oxygen thing. Inflate the lungs, then deflate. There. Not so hard. He tried to make his tongue work around the sand paper on the roof of his mouth, but he couldn't get it right. Instead, it thickened, and stuck, and tied.
Her expression morphed from quizzical, to confused, to stunned silent shock. And they stared at each other for what must have been minutes, maybe hours. It wasn't until a deeper male voice called her name from the interior of the house that she finally moved.
“Sarah, who is it?”
Sarah Donovan was a small woman. She only stood at five feet two inches, and she'd always been slight. Old age made her seem smaller somehow. But the power with which she barreled into Nate stunned him with the sheer force. She wrapped her arms around him and didn’t let go. As the frail-looking woman squeezed him with all her might, Nate blinked away the tears. His arms automatically slid around her and held on.
She had always given really good hugs. When he'd arrived, he'd been no better than a caged animal. He hadn't had much in the way of affection. But from day one, after she’d hugged him and welcomed him to the family, he’d been addicted. And fuck, he'd missed them. He shut his eyes to stop the embarrassing prick of tears. Closing out all the noise and his thoughts, he stood on the porch and let himself be held.
She kept whispering as she stroked his back. “I knew you'd be back. I knew. I always knew. My boy. I always knew.” Strong hands rubbed up and down his back like they had when he'd gotten his first medical check up after the beating that had brought him to them. The docs had deduced that he'd never really had a full work up so they'd given him one, inoculated him against a slew of things, and she'd sat by his side the whole time. He'd never even had to tell her that needles made him crazy. When you grew up with a junkie, prostitute mother, the sight of them could turn your stomach. She'd sat there for an hour just rubbing his back as he'd turned his head to stare at the wall and not at the needles going into his arm. Like a mother should.
For what seemed like hours, they stood there, oblivious to the world around them. Then the voice came from the interior again, this time sounding closer. “Geez, woman, are you trying to let in every mosquito from here to Schenectady? What are you—”
Then there was silence. Nate forced his eyes open to stare at the man he'd always hoped to call Dad one day. Their gazes locked, and the older man's hand flew to his heart. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”
Sarah loosened her hold on him, shifting to look at her husband. “This is the best birthday present. I can’t believe you did this for me.”
John continued to stare like he'd seen a ghost, his eyes welling with tears. “I wish I could say this was my doing, but it's not.” Slowly the older man approached as if not believing what his eyes told him. When he reached them, he stumbled into the hug. Nate would have thought hugging his surrogate father would have been awkward, John had never really been a hugger, but it wasn't. Nate let everything wash away and let himself be held again. Sarah Donovan never let go of his hand.
John backed away and looked at Nate long and hard. “Not sure how you got here. But you're a sight for sore eyes.”
Sarah piped in. “Best birthday present ever.”
Nate finally found his voice through the gravel in his throat. “I—” He pinched the tip of his nose. Last thing he needed was snot dripping on the shiny hardwood floor. “I'm, uhm, long overdue to say this to you. I'm so—”
Sarah put her hands up to his lips. “Stop. We don’t need to know why you left. All I care about is that you're home.”
“Sarah's right, Nate. It's good to have you back. We can worry about the whys later.” Gruff now, he cleared his throat twice then slapped Nate on his back. “Why don’t you come in and meet the rest of the family? This is just like one of those lifetime movies Sarah is always watching. The family is complete again.”
They might not have wanted his apologies, but at the very least he could tell them how he'd ended up on their doorstep. The very same reason he'd come to them in the first place. “You should thank Lila. She's the one who found me. I'm here because of her.”
Sarah froze. “Delilah found you? But she didn’t say anything.”
“Yeah, I'm afraid that's my fault. I wanted this to be a surprise.”
John beckoned them forward. “Come on then. Dylan and Derek are through here. The rest, well, maybe we'll have your...” His voice trailed off as if he searched for the right word. “Delilah can make you name tags for the rest of the family.”
Nate smiled as he followed them. “Lila mentioned that the family has grown a little since I've last been here.”
The woman he'd always wished was his mother laughed. “Oh, yes, you could say that. Apparently, I liked being a mom. And I have a soft spot for a kid with a story.”
As they rounded the corner to the great room, Nate halted in the doorway. A teenage girl did a dance by the pool table as she collected money from three guys. The television was on, though no one was really watching it.
John's voice rose to be heard above the din. “Pay attention, the lot of you. This is Nate.” The older man's gaze met his. “He's finally come back home.”
Two of the guys by the pool table whipped their heads around to stare at him. Okay, to be fair, one of those was definitely a glare. Dylan. Looked like he’d have some explaining to do. Derek just stared at him, mouth agape.
From behind, he heard footsteps, and his hair stood on end. Delilah.
“Mom, Dad, which bottle of wine do you want t
o open, the Riesling or the—”
Nate turned and gave her a sheepish smile. “Hey, Lila.”
###
Delilah's hands shook. She knew she had to say something, but instead, her gaze stayed glued to Nate. This was not part of the plan. He was not supposed to show up here and disrupt her life.
Her mother strode over and encompassed her in a hug, squeezing her so tight Delilah worried about her oxygen flow. “Thank you, baby. I don't know how you managed it. And I don't care. I'm just so grateful that you did. I can't say thank you enough. This is more than I could have asked for.”
Over her mother's shoulder, she glared at Nate. But he didn’t even give her his characteristic cheeky grin. Instead, there was a shimmer in his gaze, and his brows furrowed. Suddenly it hit her. She’d hurt him.
She'd never considered that what she said would hurt him. It had been in the heat of the moment. It had also been the truth at the time. He wasn’t someone she could have just turned up at home with. But she could have stayed to talk about it. Instead of running.
But now, he'd removed the complication. Sort of. Though her parents looked thrilled, Dylan glared at both her and Nate. No doubt he'd be doing a full background check on Nate and what he'd been up to. Derek looked more curious than anything. The rest of her siblings openly gawked. Mia mouthed. “Is this him?”
Delilah nodded then dragging her gaze back to Nate. “Uhm, Mom, can I borrow Nate for a minute?”
Her mother studied her for a beat then said, “Of course, baby. But hurry back. Your dad’s ribs won't last long with this lot. I'll try to save you some corn on the cob.”
“Thanks. Nate, can I see you outside please?”
For a second, he looked like he wanted to refuse. And out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dylan move toward them. She gave her brother a slight shake of her head. He might be instinctively distrustful, but Nate wasn’t dangerous. Not to her. Not physically, at least.
She turned and walked into the backyard, not waiting to see if he followed or not. Delilah only knew for sure that Nate followed her at the sound of the heavy footfalls on stone walkway.
