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Chapter Five
Nate wanted nothing more than to get his shoes off. He hadn’t worn such flat or stiff shoes in months. Probably years. And he’d been in these monstrosities all day long. He couldn’t believe he used to wear shoes like this to work every day, twelve hours a day, sometimes six days a week.
He did not miss his old life, that was for sure. He realized now how stressed he’d been all the time, and it was no wonder that all of his relationships were in ruins.
“This is your room,” Ginger said, bringing Nate out of the pain of his feet. He gazed at the bedroom, with the huge queen-sized bed all made up with a puffy blue comforter and more than one pillow. He marveled at that fact alone, not to mention how big it was. Cavernous almost.
“The closet is around the corner,” Ginger said, still speaking in that soft voice she’d adopted sometime after dinner. Nate had stayed in the kitchen in the West Wing, sipping coffee for as long as he could. When he’d caught Ginger’s eye, she seemed to get his telepathic message that he was done.
Beyond done.
“Can I take off these shoes?” he asked.
“Of course.”
But before he could move, Ginger darted in front of him. “Nate, you don’t have to ask my permission to do anything.”
He simply looked at her, the concept of making his own decisions somewhat foreign to him. Of course, he did remember that he’d once lived this way. It had just been so long. He nodded and stepped around the corner to enter the closet. It too was massive—at least two men could sleep in here—and he found a neat stack of jeans and another of T-shirts. A single sweatshirt hung from a hanger, as well as a heavier coat and three long-sleeved shirts.
He took off his shoes and left them on the floor, turning and almost colliding with Ginger. “I got a few things,” she said. “According to the size chart. I kept the receipts, so if something doesn’t fit, let me know, and I’ll get the money back.”
“Thanks,” Nate said, though the money wasn’t important to him. Ginger, however, got paid to have someone like him at her ranch, and she’d definitely want it back.
“Maybe you can’t wear regular shirts,” she said, her eyes holding a question.
Nate blinked, trying to figure out what she meant.
“I just—I mean, your shoulders are so broad.” Instantly, a pink hue crept into her face, and she spun away from him. “Just let me know.” She strode away from him and into the bathroom. “The bathroom is here. It has a door straight into Connor’s room.”
Nate wasn’t sure if he had shock running through him or warmth. Maybe both. He knew this day had felt like a year, and he couldn’t wait to lie down in that bed that looked made of clouds. He cast it a look before following Ginger, who’d taken Connor by the hand and was showing him the bed he could sleep in.
“Look, Uncle Nate.” Connor jumped on the bed a couple of times, far too smiley and energetic for the day they’d had.
“I see,” he said to the boy. “Now don’t jump on the bed, Connor. It’s not ours.” He picked up his nephew and smiled at him. “Let’s find you some pajamas.” His eyes crossed Ginger as he located the dresser in the room—which was twice as big as the locker he’d used for almost five years.
He’d seen the kitchen—huge, with lots of glinting silver appliances—and the living room with two comfortable couches. She hadn’t taken him downstairs, and Nate suspected he’d have plenty of time to get a feel for his new home.
He found a pair of dinosaur pajamas in the top drawer, and he started helping Connor get changed. He had no idea how to put a shirt on a child, but Connor helped by lifting up his arms, and the shirt just went right on. Ginger hung back in the doorway, watching, and Nate really wanted to get away from all the eyes.
Especially hers for some reason. Maybe because her observant gaze made him too hot, and he definitely couldn’t handle the heat.
“All right,” he said to Connor. “Into bed you go.”
Connor climbed up onto the bed, and Nate pulled the blanket down to tuck him in. He leaned over and kissed Connor’s forehead. “I’m right next door, okay? Right through the bathroom. Come get me if you need me.”
“Uncle Nate?”
“Yeah?”
Connor just looked at him, though, and Nate had gotten good at seeing things inside the facility, but he couldn’t read minds.
“Love you,” he said through a tight throat, and he turned to face Ginger. She wore a look on her face that suggested she’d have done something differently.
Sure enough, when he approached, she whispered, “You’re not going to have him brush his teeth or use the bathroom before bed?”
Foolishness filled Nate, and he stopped in his tracks. “Uh, yeah.” He turned back to Connor. “Come brush your teeth, Connor. And you should use the bathroom before bed.” He reached for the boy, still unable to think of him as his son, and Connor slid out from beneath the blanket.
Nate supervised while Connor got the tasks done, but he didn’t go back into his bedroom. Nate finally crouched down in front of the wisp of a child and put his hands on Connor’s slight shoulders. “What is it, bud?”
