Rolling my eyes, I sigh and contemplate picking up my nachos to stuff my face again so I don’t need to talk to Nate. He’s tried to make contact more than once this week, but I’ve ignored him.
Neither of us says a word until Quinn’s door clicks shut. There’s not much I have to say to my brother anyway. He’s the one who showed up here, so I wait him out, refusing to look at him.
Doesn’t mean I don’t see him in my periphery take a seat on the edge of Quinn’s oversized cozy chair to the left of the couch.Or put his elbows on his knees and lean towards me. Or feel eyes that match mine staring hard in my direction.
“You haven’t answered my calls or texts,” he finally says, and I don’t appreciate the accusation in his tone.
Rolling my eyes in his direction, I finally give him the time of day and meet his stare. “I wonder why. Don’t look at me and act like I’m the only one that did anything wrong here, Nate.”
His chest heaves with a heavy sigh. The same one he uses on me whenever he’s feeling defeated. “Jor, that’s why I’ve called and texted you. It’s why I’m here right now.”
It takes a little wind out of my sails. I should have guessed that, and I suppose I did know, but I’m still angry with him. Lifting my head, I wrap my blanket around my shoulders tighter, like it can offer some sort of protection until I’m certain that whatever Nate has to say won’t hurt me. I’m tired of feeling hurt. I’m tired of being upset. I’m tired of feeling battered and bruised.
“I owe you an apology. I never should have reacted the way I did,” he says, shifting backwards a few inches in the chair. “Seeing my best friend all over my little sister wasn’t exactly what I expected.”
My stomach twists. I’m thankful he didn’t show up five minutes later than he did. God only knows what he would have seen.
“You were never, ever meant to see that, Nate.”
The air fully exhales out of my lungs then. I’m not sure what I expected from him, but I realize an apology wasn’t it. Even after the way he reacted, I don’t know that I thought he would apologize. And really, why should he? At least to me. While I’m angry with him, I’m angry at the way he treated Liam, even if I am nursing a broken heart thanks to the latter. If it hadn’t been for Nate’s lashing, I don’t think Liam would have done what he did. Nate doesn’t owe me an apology—I wronged him through and through—heowes one to Liam.
“Christ. Thank God,” he mutters.
The corner of my lip twitches but I can’t bring myself to smile. “It’s not me you should be apologizing to. As hurt as I am because of him, you were a real ass to Liam, and he didn’t deserve it.”
He nods and pushes his hand through his brown hair. “Yeah, I know.”
My eyes prick with tears, and I tighten my hold on the blanket, pulling it taught as I look down. The fabric probably looks stretched to the max at this point. I’m not only using it to shield myself from Nate, but to keep myself together through this conversation. The one person I would normally run to and talk things out with, is the one person who I need to talk about.
I’m not sure if the ache in my chest right now is because I love him or hate him.
“I had to talk to you before I could talk to him,” Nate says, pulling me from my thoughts. A good thing considering where they were headed. “Do you really love him?”
I push back against the lump growing in my throat, pressing myself into the couch in hopes it will swallow me whole before I have to think about these things. Unfortunately, it does no such thing. I don’t want to think about that question, let alone give voice to an answer that will make my heart crack wide open again. I haven’t cried in a few hours. Nate threatens to destroy all my progress.
He waits me out, scrutinizing me from his spot. His patience is maddening. He can sit and wait for an answer for ages, not saying a word as you process. It probably makes him effective at his job, but as his sister it’s annoying.
Finally I nod, the picture I was just looking at seared into my mind, and a tear slips down my cheek. I reach up and brush it awaywith the blanket.
“Actually love him or is it just the…” He clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably. “Is it lust?”
Goddamn it. Another tear slips down the opposite cheek. My voice is quiet when I answer because I don’t trust it not to crack and break. “I love him like Savanna loves you, Nate. I’ve been falling in love with him for months and I had no idea.” My brother becomes blurry as more moisture spills silently down my face. “It was supposed to end in Vegas. We were supposed to go our separate ways, and that was supposed to be the end of it. We never meant to hurt you, but we couldn’t stay away from each other.”
“Does he love you?” Nate asks with a gentle but firm tone.
I inhale sharply, turning my head to look out the window across the room. I felt certain that he did, the picture tells me he did. All week I’ve been convinced of it, going through my memory of all the little moments. The looks he’d give me, the way he’d hold me, or touch me. But now that Nate is asking me out loud? I’m hesitant to say yes.
“I don’t know,” I answer with a heaviness I feel deep in my soul. “I thought so, but maybe it was just hope.”
“He’s a mess,” Nate confides, leaning forward in the chair to rest his elbows on his knees again. His eyes are dark and gloomy as they meet mine. “I’ve never seen him like this.”
“Quinn mentioned he wasn’t well.”
“’Bout as good as you judging by those nachos,” Nate responds, nodding at the abandoned plate next to me.
“Has he been in the bar drinking every night, looking for a new girl to hook up with?” I ask before I can think better of it. The question has plagued me for days, and I really don’t know if I want the answer to it. I haven’t been to the bar since before Nate and Savanna got home, sluffing off every responsibility when it comesto it.
“He hasn’t set foot inside since I’ve been back.” Nate’s hand is back in his hair. “Besides what we’ve had to say to each other at work, we haven’t talked. I told you—I had to talk to you first.”
