“That’s not very comforting.”
“It’s not meant to be,” she says, with a small smile. “I don’t coddle.”
“I don’t want to live waiting for cracks,” I say.
She squeezes my hand once before pulling hers back.
“Then don’t,” she states. She takes a sip of her coffee. “I’ve watched my son. Back at my party… you guys weren’t ready,” she adds. “But I’ve watched you today.”
I tilt my head slightly.
Her mouth curves in a quiet smile. “You two are different with each other now.”
I can’t tell Rebecca I rage-fucked her son… can I?A familiar warmth flickers in my chest, followed immediately by a ripple of nerves because different doesn’t mean safe.
The bathroom door opens across the room, and Nate steps back into the café, scanning the tables until his eyes land on us. He reaches the table a few seconds later.
“Did I miss anything?” he asks.
Rebecca and I exchange a glance.
“Nothing important,” she says.
As Nate slides back into his chair beside me, his knee brushing mine under the table, my brain fires serotonin, rewarding his closeness. And I realize something: I may not trust the ground yet, but I’m starting to trust Nate.
It’s beena week and a half since my conversation with Rebecca, and no matter how slow we’re going, I can’t shake this feeling that the other shoe’s about to drop.
I glance at the phone against the tile while I rinse a plate, suds creeping toward my wrists. Julian’s on speaker, lounging somewhere by the way he’s breathing into the speaker.
“You’re overthinking it,” he says. “Just give the give the guy a break and fuck him. He’s got to have the bluest balls in the Pacific Northwest.”
I snort but also blush. What happened between Nate and I in Seattle… I want to keep it between Nate and I. “Look who’s talking.”
“That’s right,” he says cheerfully. “Mine are the bluest in the Midwest.”
I’m smiling when my phone buzzes again. The hospital’s calling.Weird. “Hold on—hospital’s on the other line.”
“Are you on call?”
“No. I’ll call you back.”
I swipe. “Hello?”
“Is this Robyn Hollis? We have a Nathan Leighton in the ER. You’re listed as his emergency contact. There’s been an accident at a construction site.”
The plate slips and clatters into the sink. Water keeps running, but my heart stops.
CHAPTER 34
The Care
Nate
The constructionon Hamby Road is a disaster. Winter wasn’t that snowy, spring wasn’t that rainy, and summer isn’t that hot. So there’s no fucking reason why, in mid-August, we’re finalizing tasks that should’ve been done in early July.
Before I have a chance to close the door to my truck, Mickey comes up to me. “Mr. Nate,” he says breathlessly. “I was wondering, since you’ve been mentoring me and all?—”
I look at Mickey, but he doesn’t keep going. “Yeah?” I urge.
