“Yeah, but…”
Shit. I hadn’t thought this part out. Grandma was in her seventies now; I didn’t want her hours away from everyone in the family.
“Now, now.” She squeezed my arm one last time before walking over to dish the potatoes. “Be a good boy and hand me those plates.”
I begrudgingly passed them off before setting the rest of the table. Why was I the only one upset about this situation? Didn’t she realize how lonely it was going to be down here by herself? What if something happened?
The universe loved to rip people away from me. It was only a matter of time before it came for her and Wallace. Hell, maybe even Rena now. I was like the angel of fucking death.
“Do you want corn?”
“What?”
She held up a heaping plate with her lips pressed in a tight, quivering line. “I asked if you want corn.”
“You don’t have to make my plate, Grandma. Let me—”
“No!” She jerked it away from my reach. “Let me help you, Nicholas.”
“Then yes.” I let out a heavy breath and sat down. “Yes to the corn. Thank you.”
An uneasy silence fell between us as she finished up. I swear, she wiped every damn inch of countertop down before settling across the table from me. For once, I cursed getting passed over by the empath line.
“I could get you an apartment near mine,” I told her, cramming a piping spoonful into my mouth. “Reh-rey. I co—”
“Please don’t talk with your mouth full.”
I swallowed. “Really. I could get the money. Tits—I mean, Larry—will have to transfer, too. If he and I crash together, we could split the rent. Then I’d be able to put you up nearby.”
“Sweetie, I couldn’t possibly do that.”
“Why?”
Her smile sagged as her gaze shifted elsewhere. “I can’t leave this house behind.”
“Not even for your family?”
“Let me tell you a story.” She sighed and leaned across the table. “Your grandpa Freddie and I bought this place after Russell married your mother. With him gone, off raising his own family, our nest felt bigger than what we needed. So, we moved here. Then the unthinkable happened, and you kids came to stay with us. I worried it was too old and small to raise two boys…”
I put my fork down. “So, what changed your mind?”
Tears shone in her eyes as she smiled at me. “You did. Wallace didn’t speak for weeks after the funeral, and you were inconsolable. I felt terrible because I didn’t know how to help either one of you. Finally, you marched up to me one day and said, ‘Grandma, can we stay here forever? ‘Cause I don’t think Wallace knows if it’s okay to call it home or not.’ You always did that. Too tough to voice your worries as your own.”
A lump formed in my throat, and I gave her a little smile back. I could barely recall anything from back then—we were only eight years old—but I sure as hell remembered how it felt. Hollow. Aching. Missing something I didn’t even fully realize was gone.
“So, while I appreciate your offer, I just can’t sell this place.” She reached across the table and patted my hand. “I want you boys to always have somewhere you can call home. Somewhere you can fall back on, if you need to.”
Holy shit. I wasn’t moving.
I nodded without saying a word. There was no way to argue against what she’d said. I’d just have to make this work somehow. Commute five hours a day, kill Steve No-dick, get a different job and blackmail my new boss—something. Grandma needed this place, and we still needed her.
Unless…
“What if we moved the house?” I asked her.
Her brows pinched. “What?”
“The house. The whole house. What if I paid to have it physically moved? You know, excavator, hydraulic jacks—everything. What if we took our house and put it in Cleveland?”
She lowered her gaze from mine, crinkling her forehead. “They could…? No, it must be terribly expensive. And it’s a ludicrous notion. No, no. I’m fine here.”
“They can,” I assured her. This time, it was me leaning across the table. “I can get the money, I swear. Just say the word, and I’ll find a way to make this happen.”
“It’s tempting.” She licked her cracked lips and took another sip of water. “But no. Not with your blood money, Nicholas.”
My nostrils flared as I drew a breath. “It’s not blood money. I have a job.”
“Is realty really paying that much, these days?”
“I take on a few side gigs here and there.” I forced myself to shrug, feigning a nonchalance I didn’t feel. “Private security and the like.”
“For whom?”
“I can’t discuss that.”
“Of course not.”
Drop it. Just drop it.
Grandma heaved a sigh and started eating again. “So, did something happen with your brother this week? He seemed very distressed over something, but he hasn’t returned my calls yet. I know he had a test on Thursday.”
Way to go, Wall-ass. Leave me to clean up your mess again.
“Yeah, uh…he and Rena are having problems.”
Her face fell. “Oh, no. What kind of problems?”
“The kind that force them to stay away from each other for an indefinite period of time?” I winced.
Grandma went slack-jawed.
I set my fork back down and gave her the short version of what had gone down. Faye had sent one of her minions to form a wedge between Wallace and Rena, playing on their insecurities. It came to a head at the festival over what turned out to be a misunderstanding, and they broke up—for now. I probably should’ve taken the time to explain the whole Nullari and Augari development, but my head was throbbing. Too many things to look into. Too many things to settle. I’d be lucky to finish dinner without spontaneously combusting.
“That’s terrible,” Grandma muttered, wiping her mouth with her napkin. “She was just…made for him, you know?”
Oh, I knew. I’d realized it a half second after I’d kissed her in the warehouse.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t worry too much. They just need to get their shit—”
“Nicholas!”
I pressed my lips together, drew a deep breath, and started again. “They just need to get their stuff worked out.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
Silence.
“Speaking of working things out…” She took a bite of potatoes. “Have you been attending your therapy sessions?”
I checked my reaction, even though she’d sense my unease. “When my schedule allows.”
Her lips pulled down. “It only helps if you put in the effort.”
“I know.”
After I’d borrowed Rena for the greater good back in January, Grandma had insisted I see some shrink downtown. She said it would be better for me to have someone objective to vent to, instead of acting on impulse all the time. Right.
“When is your next appointment?”
“Well, I missed my last one, so I should probably reschedule…” I couldn’t help but flinch at her eager expression. “…for tomorrow.”
“Marvelous!”
Yeah, marvelous. One more thing to deal with.
The rest of the meal was uneventful. Thank God. We finished up, she washed the dishes, I put everything away, and then we said our weekly goodbyes. I reached for the doorknob, but hesitated when I felt her hand on my shoulder.
“Oh, and Nicolas?”
“Yeah?” I turned around.
“I’ll think about it.”
I raised an eyebrow.
She gestured around the kitchen. “The house. The moving. If you come across a legitimate way to get that money together…I’ll think about it. Just know that I intend on paying every penny back.”
My lips twitched, but I played it cool. Grinning would only plant more doubt, and besides, she had the minor gift of discernment. However I phrased my reply, it had to be the truth. “I won’t do anything you’d disapprov
e of, Grandma.” I leaned in for a quick hug and whispered, “I promise.”
But Tits will.
CHAPTER 8
My shrink’s office smells like sunshine.
I swear, you walk in that place and it takes your breath away. Full octane coffee and citrus air freshener. And the paintings. Don’t get me started on the paintings. They’re so cheery, I wanna take a piss in one of the potted plants.
“Hey there, Cole,” Lacey, the secretary, cooed my name with a phony grin. “Glad you made it in to see us.”
“Same here. I’ve been holding my breath”— I did the math in my head—”thirty thousand, two hundred, forty minutes since the last time I saw you.”
Her facade cracked as she tapped the counter. “Yeah, why don’t you go ahead and sign in?”
“Sure.” I scrawled my name down beside a gigantic smiley face that took up a fourth of the page. Beside it, I made a speech bubble that said, “I LOVE MY LIFE!”
“Okay.” She gently pulled the clipboard back to her side of the desk. “That’s all we need. Thank you.”
I headed toward the line of chairs by the fish tank, but hesitated when I heard movement on the other side of the door. Heels, unhurried steps. My shrink.
The door opened, and Dr. Hannah Farrell poked her head around the corner. “Cole?”
“Hooray,” I said in my driest tone. “You’ve come to save me from myself.”
“Always the funny guy.” She flashed me a predator’s smile and pushed the door open wide. “You can come on back now.”
Fifth grade all over again. Getting sent to the principal’s office. Of course, this time, it was a hot principal. Pencil skirt, modest blouse, and a mess of curly hair that screams ‘sex me’.
We settled into two overstuffed chairs in her office. The first time I was here, I laid on the floor in protest of her lack of couch. Apparently, that’s not a thing anymore. No one told me.
“So, how have things been since the last time we talked?” She picked up her iPad and opened up a note-taking program.
“Peachy.”
“We missed you last week.”
“I thought you might.”
She glanced up at me. “I wondered if it was harder for you to come, since we delved into the topic of family last time.”
Mind flinch. “The only thing harder when I see you is my dick.”
“Again with the comebacks.” She laughed under her breath. “You know, you make my job pretty easy.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t bill my insurance company.” I flashed her a wicked grin, knowing I’d get away with it. “Okay, okay. Let’s talk about my feelings for the next forty-seven minutes.”
She raised a thin brow. “You want to talk about feelings?”
“Yeah, I had some this week. I thought you’d want to know, since it’s kind of a first.”
“Absolutely. Why don’t you tell me about it?”
I twisted around in the chair until I could lie in it like the couch it was supposed to be, my legs hanging over the armrest. “So, I went to this bible-thumping festival to meet up with my brother and his girlfriend—who’s currently his ex-girlfriend, but whatever. While I was there, I met this chick.”
Three, two, one…
“What was she like?”
“I don’t know. Fragile? She’s got that skin like pottery with freckles on her nose. Big hazel eyes. Dark red hair. Thin, but not like those throw-up chicks. She carries herself well.”
She typed something. “Well, now we’ve established what she looks like. But what was she like as a person?”
I kicked my feet up and let my laces dangle down. “Nice, I guess. I didn’t talk to her that long. She just had this air about her. Kind, you know? Like someone you’d trust to babysit kids or rescue a baby pig.”
“Why a pig?”
“Are you kidding me? Baby pigs are cute as shit.”
“And that makes them more valuable than other animals?”
I stared at her. “How the hell would I know the value of farmyard animals?”
“Well, you’d trust this girl to rescue a piglet, which we’ve established as cute. I’m wondering if you think its appearance makes it more worthy of being saved.”
Seconds ticked by on the clock. “You’re losing me.”
“Could it be you see yourself as that pig?” she asked, leaning in. “Perhaps there’s something that makes you feel filthy—some thought or memory—that you need saving from. You may be trying to justify that desire by focusing on a redeeming quality. In this case, it could be your perceived level of attraction.”
I scrubbed my hands down my face. “Wow. You see right through me, doc. I’m a baby pig who needs to be loved. I think I’m cured…like bacon. Maybe you should sign my certificate of sanity, so I can pass it off to my grandma. Then I’ll let Rachel pork me whole again. Everyone will be happy.”
“Cole.” She tilted her chin. “I’ve noticed you seem to hold your grandmother in a higher regard than you do most people. Her needs, her opinions. Why do you think that is?”
“Gee, could it be because she raised me?”
This was why I skipped these sessions. All shrinks do is pick at scabs until they get one to bleed—even if there’s nothing wrong with the person. It’s a time sink.
“Yes, I believe you briefly mentioned that before. Your grandparents took you and your brother in, after your parents were killed in a car accident.”
“It wasn’t an accident,” I corrected her, twisting to sit up.
“What?”
“They don’t call it an accident when a drunk driver crashes a two-fucking-ton vehicle into innocent people. There’s nothing accidental about it.”
“Oh.” She paused. “I can tell you feel strongly about this.”
“You must be a voodoo mind reader.”
“Did they charge the driver?”
I snorted. “Yeah, he got a seven-year slap on the wrist.”
“And you don’t think that’s fair?”
I crossed my arms and then uncrossed them, realizing she’d analyze the hell out of it. “On the contrary. I think he got exactly what was coming to him.”
Rotting in a crude oil storage container until lightning obliterated his remains.
“Have you forgiven him?”
“Would you?”
She frowned, waiting for me to press forward. Like it was a damn hypothetical question.
“I want to know,” I told her, clenching my jaw.
If she gave me some bullshit answer about forgiveness being healthy and him atoning for his sins, I’d walk. The only way I was going to blow fifty minutes of my life every week was if this woman was a real, living, breathing person. Not some question bot trying to get me to lose my edge.
“I don’t know the whole story, so it’s difficult for me to say.”
“You don’t need to know the fucking story!” My voice swallowed the room, and my heart pumped blood straight to my ears. “Either you’re sympathetic toward that unremorseful bastard or you’re not.”
Wallace regretted that night so much he woke up crying at night. Even months afterward, it still tore up his soul. But I knew what had to be done. I knew we had saved another family from going through what we did, even if Roman’s death had been an accident. Why couldn’t someone else see that, just once?
“There’s no need to raise your voice, Cole.” She set her tablet aside. “I’m here. I’m with you. I get that you’re upset.”
“I’m not upset,” I mumbled.
“Then why are you breathing so hard?”
I stood up, clutched both sides of my head, and took a deep breath. “You had to have known that subject was going to hit a nerve. Did I help you reach your outburst quota or what?”
“I’ve noticed you make remarks about my profession whenever you’re uncomfortable. Do you think it might be a way for you to keep me at a distance? Maybe you’re afraid I’ll get to know the real Nicholas Blake?”
I could�
��ve laughed. “Believe me, I’m not the one who should be afraid of that possibility. If you had any idea what I’m capable of, you’d run out of here screaming.”
And with those parting words, I ended our session.
CHAPTER 9
I waited a respectful six days before I checked on the unhappy couple.
Rena’s classes were done for the day, so I started with her. Or at least, I tried to. She wasn’t moping around her claustro-dorm room or beating up defenseless heavy bags, as expected. It took me two full sweeps of Wilcox College to find her waiting on a bench outside of Corynn’s dorm—licking the lid of an ice cream carton.
“What a sad, sticky girl,” I announced, hoping to get a rise as I came up behind her.
She lowered the lid to her lap without turning around. “Excuse me?”
“What’re you doing out here?” I gripped the back of the bench and hopped over. “Besides stalking the Nullari girl and ingesting 270 calories. You know that’ll go straight to your ass, right?”
She flicked me off and went back to her ice cream. “None of your business.”
“Oh, my beloved sister from another mister,” I chided, shaking my head. “Everything you do is my business.”
She leaned over to toss her carton in the trash. “Cut the crap, AssCole. Why are you here?”
“Can’t I stop by to check on you?”
“Not when it takes over two hours to get here.”
“Maybe I wanted to see you before your semester ends.”
“Maybe you have ulterior motives.”
“Rena.” I put a hand to my chest. “I’m hurt.”
She wiped her hands on her pants and crammed whatever she’d been studying into her back pocket. “And I’m not in the mood to play games.”
Respect, sis. I’ve seen forts with fewer defenses.
“Fine,” I conceded, crossing my arms over my chest. “No games. What do you want to do? Trash Corynn’s room? Key her car?” A second ticked by. “Rough her up a little?”
Now that was an idea. I couldn’t intervene, but I could sure as hell tape it. Then I’d show Wallace, and he’d realize she still—
Honesty (Mark of Nexus) Page 5
