Hometown Troublemaker

by Brighton Walsh

  Nash shook his head, not allowing himself to read anything into the stricken look in his dad’s eyes. Every single word had needed to be said, and he wouldn’t feel bad for finally doing so. Regret wasn’t anywhere to be found.

  “Just tell me when everything’s settled, and I’ll clean out my shit. But just so there’s no mistake, you and I?” Nash gestured between them. “We’re done. I’ve tried my whole life to get you to see me, to get your attention, and I’m over it. I should’ve walked away a long time ago. This little stunt just proved I’d have been better off without you.”

  Nash didn’t wait for his dad to leave. This time, he was the one to walk away.

  With absolutely no destination in mind, Nash allowed his truck to guide him through the back roads surrounding Havenbrook. He couldn’t be in the warehouse—who knew how much longer it’d even be his—and he couldn’t go home. The idea of being in his tiny studio apartment—the one he’d rented for the sole purpose of stashing away as much money as possible to buy out his dad—ate at him. Everything he’d done—all the sacrifices and struggles he’d made for years—had been for nothing. His family business was going to get sold to the highest bidder, and Nash couldn’t do anything to stop it.

  His headlights dipped and soared as he bounced down the dirt road, the full moon casting a glow over the barren fields on either side of him. While everything he’d said to his old man had been weighing on him for years, and every single word had needed to be spoken, his chest still ached over finally walking away.

  His dad had never provided any sort of support, but Nash had still taken comfort knowing he wasn’t all alone in Havenbrook. And now? Nat was gone and never coming back. Asher was well on his way to stardom. Nash’d just told his old man to fuck off. And he’d lost the only woman he wanted to share his life with.

  So, yeah. Things were just fucking great.

  His phone rang and he glanced over, a photo of him and Nat that they’d taken when she’d been home illuminated on the screen. He hadn’t told Nat any of this. Hadn’t told Asher either. Maybe a small part of him hoped Rory would come to her senses and he wouldn’t have to say anything.

  With a sigh, he answered the call and set it to speaker before tossing his phone on the seat. “Yeah.”

  “Oh, good, you’re alive. I was just checkin’ to make sure Havenbrook hadn’t burned into oblivion after their devil spawn came and left.”

  Nash grunted, the only response he could muster.

  “Doin’ okay over there? You sound like you’re one step up from death. Rory finally zap your will to live?” Nat laughed like it was the funniest fucking thing in the world, and he gripped the steering wheel so hard it creaked.

  While she’d been home, she hadn’t been supportive, exactly, of him and Rory, but she also hadn’t thrown a fit about it. She’d shrugged in her Natalie way, as if she didn’t care one way or another about the outcome. But she’d made little comments here and there…tiny digs at Rory that Nash had always shut down. But this was pushing it too far.

  “Would you knock that shit off already?” he snapped. “You’ve made your stance on the situation crystal clear.”

  Silence came over the line until finally, she said, “Okayyyyy… Is she right there or something?”

  Nash breathed out a humorless laugh as he turned and headed back toward town. “Don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

  “Not followin’.”

  “She bailed. Things got tough, and she decided it wasn’t worth it. I wasn’t worth it.”

  Nat was quiet for a long moment. “Hey, I have an idea! Why don’t you meet me in Charlotte? I’m still in the States, and that’s Asher’s next stop. We can hit up a show, get you drunk, then get you laid. You’ll forget about her in no time.”

  “Ain’t gonna happen.”

  “You never know until you try,” she singsonged. “Just gotta find you the right one. I’ll play wingwoman—I’m excellent, as you may recall—and we’ll get it taken care of. You won’t even remember her name when I’m done.”

  He didn’t have a shred of hope that’d happen. Not when he could call up the tiniest detail about Rory. Like how she’d stir cream and sugar into her coffee, set the spoon down, only to dunk and stir once more before taking her first sip. Or how she’d shove pencils in her hair while she was working and pull out four at the end of the day because she’d forgotten about them. Or how she whispered to herself that she was unplugging her curling iron so she wouldn’t panic when she left the house. Or how she closed her eyes and tapped her finger on her lips when she was trying to envision a design. How she smiled up at him when they were watching a movie, or how she looked when she first woke up, or how fucking much he missed her.

  “I love her, Nat,” he said, his voice gruff. “I know that’s not what you wanna hear, and you’re clingin’ to this dumb-ass grudge from years ago, but she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, and I’m in love with her.”

  “You— You…” Silence carried over the line for long moments. “Oh.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the too-long top. “So basically, I’m fucked. Completely and utterly fucked. The one time I throw out all my rules, my heart gets put through the meat grinder. I’m gonna need a little more than a weekend trip to Charlotte to recover.”

  “I could— Look, you know Havenbrook’s not my favorite place, but if you need me, I’m there. Just say the word. I don’t think I’ll catch fire if I come back so soon. But just in case, you should probably greet me at the airport with a fire extinguisher.”

  He laughed. His first true laugh in what felt like forever. “I’d love to have you back, but I don’t need you to come.”

  “How about Asher?”

  “He’s plannin’ a trip after his tour. Look, I’m a big boy. Y’all don’t need to babysit me.”

  She cleared her throat. “Soooo…speakin’ of babysittin’… When did your pervy little infatuation with Rory start? You remember she was our designated babysitter for years, right?”

  “I wasn’t gettin’ boners for her at eight, Nat, Jesus.”

  “Well, I don’t know how all your boy parts work! And I have no idea how long this has been goin’ on, because someone didn’t share.”

  “Gee, I wonder why.”

  “All right, all right, I get it. I’m the biggest asshole in the world. So what else is new? I’m askin’ now, though, aren’t I?”

  He shifted in his seat and stared out at the windshield as he passed the Welcome to Havenbrook sign. “It’s been a while.”

  “Define ‘a while.’”

  “She was definitely my first wet dream.”

  “Oh my God. I cannot believe you just told me that.”

  He breathed out a laugh. “Hey, you wanted to know.”

  “So that’s, um…that’s a long time, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  Nat’s voice softened. “So it’s gonna take a long time, huh?”

  He rubbed a hand over his chest, hating the ache that always seemed to be present now. “Yeah.”

  “Well, this blows. Just fucking blows. I hate hearin’ you like this. What can I do? Tell me what I can do.”

  “Love you, Nattie, but I don’t think there’s anything. Unless you can get that stubborn sister of yours to see how great we are together.” Nash breathed out a laugh. “But since y’all aren’t talkin’, and last I checked you weren’t a miracle worker, looks like all I’ve got is time.”

  “Did she give you a reason?”

  Yeah, about a dozen. And, in his mind, none of them had been enough to justify breaking up. Which told him ninety percent of this battle was in Rory’s head.

  Nash pulled into the alley behind The Sweet Spot. “Look, Nat, I appreciate this, but I don’t really—” His words cut off as his headlights swept over the staircase leading to his apartment and illuminated the shadow of a person sitting there, his heart jumping into his throat as hope surged fast and fierce inside him.

  N
ash didn’t know how long he sat in his truck, just staring at his old man. When he’d gotten a closer look and realized it hadn’t been the person he’d been hoping for, he’d told Nat he needed to call her back, and then he’d shut off his ignition and just…waited.

  There wasn’t much left to say between the two of them. Nash hadn’t left a whole lot of room for misinterpretation. Apparently, his old man didn’t see it that way.

  Exhaling deeply, he opened his door and stepped out.

  His dad stood when Nash stopped a couple feet from the steps. He gestured to Nash’s door at the top of the staircase. “Never been here before.”

  “Nope.”

  Not once in eight years. When Nash had told his dad he was moving out at the age of seventeen, he’d tossed him a wave over his shoulder, told him where his next job site was and when he needed to be there, and that was that.

  It’d been Caroline, Rory’s mom, who’d facilitated the rental. She’d set him up with the sweet-ass deal that’d allowed him to move out so young. And then she’d made sure he’d had furniture to fill the room and food to fill his fridge. He owed more to her for how he’d turned out than he did to his own father.

  “I’m—” His dad cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot. “I’m sorry about that.”

  Nash shrugged because, really, what else could he do? He’d made peace with the fact that his dad wasn’t a good father and couldn’t be bothered with any part of Nash’s life. He had no intention of digging up that shit again.

  “I know I’m probably the last person you wanna see right now, but I’d appreciate it if we could talk.” The lines around his mouth were pinched, his eyes holding a weariness Nash couldn’t remember ever seeing.

  With a sigh, Nash said, “C’mon up.”

  After unlocking his door, he turned on the light and tossed his keys on the kitchen counter. “I’d give you the tour, but, well…” He gestured around them. “This is it.”

  His dad nodded and surveyed the space like a contractor would. He took note of the exposed, vaulted ceiling. Ran his hand over the original brick along the far wall. “It’s nice.”

  Nash shrugged. “It’s tiny, but the Millers give me a good deal in exchange for doin’ any repairs that come up.”

  And…that was it. Silence cloaked them, and it was awkward as fuck. After the day he’d had, he just wanted to collapse into bed and fall asleep watching The Great British Baking Show like he’d been doing every night this week.

  When it was clear his dad wasn’t leaving anytime soon, he asked, “You want a beer or something?”

  “Sure.”

  Nash ducked into the fridge to grab two. And then for a solid three minutes, they just stood there, breathing and drinking and not saying a damn word.

  “Look, Pops, I don’t know why you’re here, but—”

  “I’m not sellin’.”

  Nash froze with his beer halfway to his mouth, too stunned to do much of anything but blink at his old man. “You’re…what?”

  “To Bozeman, I mean. I’m not sellin’ ’em King Construction.”

  Breath escaped Nash in a whoosh, and he sagged back against the counter, too overwhelmed—not to mention shocked—to even contemplate what this meant.

  “Earlier tonight… Well, I deserved every word,” his dad said. “I’ve been a shitty dad to you, and I’m sorry I can’t go back and change that.”

  Nash kept the platitudes to himself, because, yeah, that was a boiled-down version of real life, and he had no intention of letting him off the hook for it.

  His dad set his beer on the table before running a hand through his hair. “When I was growin’ up, things in my house were traditional. My old man provided, and my momma stayed home. When Annie left…well, I didn’t know how to be both for you, kid. So I was neither.”

  Didn’t matter how many years had gone by since his mom left, hearing her name still hurt. It excavated all the memories he’d long since buried. The ones he’d just as soon forget.

  “I checked out after that because I didn’t want to face the fact that I wasn’t enough to keep her. I’d been so lost in my grief over missin’ your momma that I never stopped to think about what her leavin’ had done to you. I was just tryin’ to get by.” He tucked a hand into his pocket and lifted a shoulder. “When Henry offered me what he did… Well, I saw a way outta here. Outta Havenbrook and the memories of your momma that I see wherever I go.”

  Jesus, Nash couldn’t imagine dealing with that for twenty years. Everywhere he looked around town, he saw Rory, and it gutted him. And they’d been seeing each other for months. What would it do to him if they’d built a life together, had a kid together, and then she’d decided neither of them was worth staying for?

  “Pops…” he said, his voice strained.

  His dad shook his head. “I don’t want your pity. That wasn’t my intent. And I understand if you still don’t want anything to do with me. Hell, I don’t want much to do with myself. But I just wanted you to know that about the business. It’ll be passed down to you, same as it was for me. And it ain’t a ploy to get you talkin’ to me again.”

  Nash couldn’t muster up a single word as his dad turned around and walked to the front door. He paused with his back to Nash, his hand on the doorknob. “I know I don’t deserve another chance after all you’ve given me. But I’ll be here just the same.”

  His dad quietly closed the door behind him, and Nash could only stare, relief and gratitude and shock surging through him. Nothing could ever erase the years of frustration and neglect he’d felt at the hand of his dad, but this… Knowing his old man was staying when he’d had the chance to leave—and hearing just how much that’d cost him? Well, maybe this was the bridge they needed to make it to the other side.

  Nash rubbed his chest, swallowing down the tightness in his throat. Without thought, he plucked his phone from his pocket and cued up Rory’s name…all before remembering the only person he wanted to share this with wasn’t all that interested in speaking to him.

  Rory’d like to say she’d lost track of how many days it’d been since Nash had last been at her house, but that’d be a bald-faced lie. She could probably count it down to the minute if someone pressed her on it.

  Sure, she’d seen him several times while working on their current project. Their business partnership hadn’t changed much since their breakup. He still spoke to her in that voice that made her insides melt. Still met her gaze with desire he didn’t even try hiding. Still made her body flush in the way he caressed her skin with only his eyes. But he never pushed. Never overstepped.

  And she both loved and hated it.

  They might’ve only been seeing each other for a short time, but her heart still felt like it’d been ripped in two. And only a day had passed after he’d stepped off her front porch before she’d realized it wouldn’t have mattered if she’d ended it then or twenty years from now—she never would’ve escaped the pain.

  Because she loved him.

  Not the love she’d thought she had with Sean. The kind that just slipped into place because it was the easiest solution. Nope, what she felt for Nash was messy and inconvenient and mind-boggling. It was complicated and frustrating and tumultuous, and she wouldn’t change a second of their time together, even if it’d save her this heartbreak.

  “Momma, can Mac drive me to Mimi and Papa’s in the cart tonight?” Ella yelled from the living room.

  “Me too!” Ava called. “I wanna ride!”

  Mac had been right—the girls loved that damn thing and begged to use it every chance they got. Rory was pretty sure she’d caught Mac giving secret driving lessons to Ava in it the other day, too.

  “One of y’all bring me my phone, please, and I’ll ask her,” Rory said, changing out her hoop earrings for the pearl studs.

  As was the way with children, it was five minutes before Ella came strolling into Rory’s bedroom, phone held up to her ear as she giggled. “Okay, I will. Here’s Momma.”
<
br />   Rory grabbed the phone from Ella and called after her as she shot out of the room. “You need to get in the shower before we go over there, Ella Jane! You smell like a swamp.”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  Blowing out a sigh, she tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder as she bent to grab her ankle boots. “Hey, the girls wanna ride with you on that godforsaken cart again. You mind swingin’ by and grabbin’ ’em before supper?”

  “That might be a bit difficult, seein’ as I’m in Portland right now.”

  Rory snapped upright, her boots clattering to the wood floor. With wide eyes, she pulled the phone away from her face and stared at the name shown at the top of the screen.

  Nat.

  She blinked a couple of times and shook her head, but nope. The three little letters never changed.

  “All those messages, and I don’t even get a hello?” Nat said, her voice coming through even though Rory held the phone in front of her like it was a bomb.

  She jerked it to her ear. “Nat. Um…hi. Did you mean to call me?” No other explanation made sense. The two of them hadn’t done more than acknowledge the other’s presence with a simple nod when Nat had visited for Gran’s party, so there was no reason she’d suddenly crave a long conversation.

  “Unless someone else in town is responsible for breakin’ my best friend.”

  “Breakin’ your…” Rory shook her head, her brow furrowed. She felt like she was underwater, trying to make sense of a conversation happening on land. “I’m not followin’.”

  “Nash,” she snapped. “I get that you think you’re so high and mighty and that’s worked real well for you.”

  “I do not think—”

  “But he doesn’t deserve that.”

  Rory huffed. “I’m not suggestin’—”

  “And I don’t know where you get off thinkin’ you’re so much better than him.”