Perfume.
Is this where Nate brings his women? Nausea rolls through me, and a sickening feeling like jealousy burns deep in my gut.
I have to get out of here. Climbing off the bed, I look around for my things, but they must be downstairs. Tears burn behind my eyes, but that’s stupid. Nate isn’t mine, he never will be, and that’s fine because it isn’t what I wanted anyway.
Maybe.
Possibly.
I’m reaching for the doorknob when it swings open. I squeak out a surprised cry as the door stubs my toe, and I fall backwards, pain bursts behind my eyes, and the food I ate earlier churns in my stomach, threatening to make an appearance.
I try to sit up, but something is pushing me back down. I can’t see what or who because lights flash in my eyes, so I squeeze them shut. Then soft fingers are on my head, running through the strands of my hair.
“Shit. Hayleigh, can you move?”
Nate. I don’t want Nate. I don’t want to be in hisshagpad.
He chuckles.
Fuckingchuckles. The clown.
Nate lifts and places me on the satiny-soft bed; it dips beside me as he pulls me up. My head rests on his warm, hard chest. Then his fingers are back, searching through my hair.
Nate’s looking after me, and it makes me want to cry.
“Shh, don’t cry. You’ll be okay. You’re the strongest person I know.” Nate whispers in my ear, and for a horrified moment, I worry that I’ve been voicing my thoughts.
The chuckle that rumbles through him confirms that. Fuck. I test opening my eyes and thank fuck the knock to the head hasn’t sent me funny, but now the pain in my toe and head comes back full force.
“Do you want some painkillers?” Nate's voice rumbles through me, and even at a time like this, I could climb this man like a tree.
“Yes, please, and then I’ll get on my way…” I try to sit up, but his arms tighten like a vice.
“We’re not going over this again; you’re not going anywhere.”
I bristle. “I’m not staying in your-your…”
“My what?” His voice is laced with amusement.
“Your fucking shag pad.” He barks out a laugh, and I hit his chest with my free hand. “Stop shouting!”
“I’m sorry. This isn’t my shag pad, as you so nicely put it; this is the room my mum stays in when she visits.” Nate says as he gently brushes my hair back, sending tingles down my spine.
Oh. It’s May’s room. Heat rushes into my cheeks because, well, that makes sense. Of course, this isn’t a shag pad. Nate isn’t like that.
“She likes to stay over sometimes, to make sure we’re okay. Actually, you’re the first-uhm-the first woman I’ve brought here.” He stammers ever so slightly, but for some reason, the words soothe me.
“Oh. Okay.”Come on, say something else, idiot. “Not like it’s my business or anything…”
Not that!
“No, of course not…” His voice is low and unsure as he trails off.Is he sad?
“I mean, I’mgladit’s not a, you know, shag pad.”
“You are?” His lips twitch in the moonlight. I nod, and he looks down. “I’m glad you’re glad. I’ll get you something to drink and some painkillers.”
He leaves, and I close my eyes thinking of everything Nate is, of everything the entire Peterson family are. My family are nothing like them; they take what they want, and they don’t care who they hurt in the process. So it’s safe to say that I’m like that, too.
