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However, Nate wasn’t a financial genius or a saint. He was a twenty-three-year-old with a dream. Call him selfish, but he’d be damned if he was going to let his hopes slip through his fingers as easily as his youth.
He’d shouldered the responsibilities of an adult twice his age since he was eighteen. Now all he needed was a big break in his career.
Just one. That’s all I need.
A car door slammed outside.
Nate stiffened and quickened his pace until he reached his father’s room and laid Michael awkwardly on the bed. By the time he yanked the elder Reynolds’ shoes off, tucked him beneath the comforter, and drew the curtains closed, Michael had passed out again.
“Dad? You home?” Skylar’s voice floated up the stairs.
Nate shut the door to his father’s room behind him and met his sister in the living room. She wore a blue and white jersey and matching shorts with a soccer ball tucked beneath her arm. Her grinning face was flushed, and her hair was slicked back into a ponytail. She’d inherited their mom’s hazel eyes and golden locks, and sometimes, Nate’s heart splintered at the resemblance.
Skylar’s face lit up when she saw him.
“Nate! You’re home early.” She tackled him with a sweaty hug and laughed when he faux grimaced.
She was a big hugger, no matter the time or situation.
“Get away from me. You stink.” His teasing lilt tempered his words.
“Duh. I just came from soccer.” Skylar rolled her eyes, then wrinkled her nose. “Actually, this entire room stinks. Ew.”
“Blame your BO.”
“Shut up. I donothave BO.” She gnawed on her lip. “Dad’s been drinking again, hasn’t he?”
“No, he hasn’t,” he lied.
“Bullshit. It reeks of whiskey.” Skylar’s eyes landed on something behind Nate. He followed her gaze and cursed silently when he saw the bottle of Jack Daniels on the coffee table. He’d forgotten to stash it away before dragging their father upstairs.
Skylar knew about their father’s drinking, but Nate tried to shield her from the worst of it as much as he could. She still held onto the romantic notion that Michael would snap out of his stupor and transform into a doting father again, even though it’d been five years, and Nate didn’t have the heart to shatter her fantasy.
“Language,” he warned, zeroing in on her use of “bullshit” instead of the half-empty whiskey five feet away.
Skylar rolled her eyes again. “Whatever. I’ve heard you say worse things.”
“How was camp?” Nate switched topics. He and Skylar could bicker for hours, but he was exhausted after a busy day at the cafe. He also needed time to mull over Kris’s offer.
“It was great!” Skylar’s ponytail swished with excitement. Nothing animated her more than soccer, except maybe a new issue ofScientific American.Nate didn’t know where she got her love of science from—their mother had been an English teacher, and their father wasn’t exactly Bill Nye, either. “I scored two goals, and Coach said if I keep up my performance, she’ll write me a recommendation for Stanford at the end of the summer.”
“That’s awesome.” A genuine grin stretched across Nate’s face. He’d dropped out of college to work after their mom died and their dad spiraled; while his school grades had been average at best, he missed the college experiences—of crazy roommates and new friendships, of parties and girls and all-night adventures, of being young and wild and free.
He hadn’t had the pleasure of living life the way an eighteen-year-old should’ve lived it, but he’d do everything in his power to ensure the same opportunity didn’t slip by Skylar. She was smart and spirited, a straight-A student with dreams of studying biology at Stanford. It was an expensive dream—even more so than Nate’s—and getting a full-ride scholarship was their only hope of affording it if she got in.
To get a scholarship, Skylar needed an edge over the other applicants. Luckily, she was as talented at soccer as she was at academics, which was why Nate hadn’t given a second thought to forking over an ungodly sum of money for a prestigious summer soccer camp that boasted Olympians and World Cup athletes as alumni.
He’d worked his ass off for weeks to make up for the drain in their bank account, but it was worth it.Hopefully.
“By the way.” Skylar tugged on her ponytail, her tone so casual it immediately raised Nate’s suspicions. “Can you drive me to the movies tomorrow night? I’m going with a new friend from camp.”
His shoulders relaxed at the mundane request. Thank God she wasn’t going on a date or anything like that. Nate had enough to worry about without having to beat hormone-driven teenage boys away from his sister. “Sure.”
“Thanks!” Skylar gave him another hug before bounding up the stairs. “I’m going to take a shower while you order pizza.”
“Who says I’m ordering pizza?” Nate yelled after her.
She answered with a knowing laugh.
