Falling For Nick

by Joleen James

  "Good night, boys." She pulled the blanket up to John's chin, before making a check on Toby who lay on the floor inside a sleeping bag.

  "My dad said he might take us to the fort tomorrow," Toby told her.

  The fort was a favorite camping spot for the boys. About an hour's walk from town, John and Toby looked forward to their visits there.

  "It's cold tonight," Clea said. "There might even be snow up at Grandma's. I think the walk to the fort will have to wait for another time."

  "Can we go up to Grandma's tomorrow if there is snow?" John asked, his eyes wide with winter wonder. "We could go sledding on her big hill. Toby could come, too."

  "Yeah," Toby said with enthusiasm, his idea of going to the fort forgotten. "We'll see." Clea smiled at the boys. The excitement in John's voice pleased her, gave her hope that he was feeling better about Nick.

  "Good night, boys," Robert said from the doorway. "Sleep tight. I'll see you tomorrow."

  "Good night," John returned.

  "Good night," Toby echoed.

  Clea longed to kiss John's cheek, but didn't want to embarrass him in front of Toby. She smiled as she followed Robert to the living room. "Thanks for all your help with John today. It meant a lot to him, and to me." She could hear the boys talking and laughing in the bedroom. The sound lightened her spirit.

  Robert sank down onto the sofa. "I saw you with Nick."

  "I know." She could hear the disappointment in his voice. She'd hoped to avoid this conversation. Hurting Robert was the last thing she wanted to do.

  He stared at her - hard. "Why were you with him? This is just like that summer all over again. Every time my back was turned you two would be together."

  "We didn't go behind your back, not then and not now. Nick and I were a couple that summer," Clea reminded him. "I was out shooting pictures today when the rain started. Nick passed me on the road and gave me a lift. I wouldn't have accepted the ride, but I didn't want the Hasselblad to get wet. You know how much that camera means to me." The Hasselblad had been a graduation gift from her father. The camera had great sentimental meaning, as well as value.

  "It was just a ride. That's all?" Robert tilted his head slightly, as if he waited for her to admit everything.

  "We talked."

  "About?"

  "John. I told him about the fight John got into. Nick's worried about John, too."

  "If Nick really cared about John he never would have come back," Robert said.

  "John needs Nick."

  "John's a child," Robert said. "He doesn't know what he needs. Do you really think he'd be surprised if Nick ran out on him? I can help him forget. He loves me."

  "I don't want him to forget," Clea said, desperate for Robert to understand. "A child doesn't forget his father, no matter who his father is. John needs to meet Nick. If he doesn't he'll always have questions and unresolved issues. It could affect his whole life."

  "I disagree." Robert shook his head. "John is happy with the way things are. Nick has never been a father to him. Trust me, being a sperm donor isn't enough. It takes much more to be a good father."

  Clea sighed. "I know that Robert. But I think John would like the chance to know Nick."

  "He hasn't indicated that to me." Robert frowned.

  Clea shifted on the couch, drawing her legs under her. "Did you talk about Nick today?" Picking up a brightly patterned throw pillow, she hugged it to her, needing something solid to hold onto.

  "Not really." Robert let his head drop back against the sofa. For a moment he closed his eyes, and Clea could see the lines of fatigue on his face. Nick's return to town hadn't been easy on Robert either. "John asked me if I knew Nick."

  "What did you say?" Her stomach clenched. "You didn't say anything negative did you?"

  He rolled his head to the side, opening his eyes. "Of course not. I would never hurt John's feelings. He means everything to me."

  "I know." She touched Robert's arm. Letting go of the pillow, she slid over closer to him. "Sorry."

  "What're you going to do, Clea? Nick's going to spoil everything between us." A wild look filled Robert's eyes, a desperation she hadn't seen in him since high school when he realized he'd lost her to Nick. Nick threatened Robert in a way no one else did. Was it just her connection to Nick that scared Robert or was there something more, something she didn't know about that night ten years ago?

  "I don't know what I'm going to do." She shrugged. "I'm going to take my cues from John."

  "I hope you won't be sorry." Robert's mouth moved into a tight line.

  "So do I."

  "Why don't the two of you come up to my place tomorrow? It's Saturday. You could spend the night at your mother's. It's snowing up at the lake. We could all go sledding."

  Leaving town and heading up to the lake sounded heavenly. "I wish I could, but I can't. Saturday is our busy day at The Coffee House. You know that. Mitzi depends on me. Besides, I have so much packing left to do before the move."

  "I'm sure Mitzi wouldn't mind." Robert threaded his fingers with Clea's. "She knows how much stress you've been under, first with the wedding and the upcoming move, and now from Nick."

  "Not on a Saturday." Clea squeezed Robert's fingers. "We are too busy."

  "Then let me take John. Toby, too, if he wants to tag along." He pulled Clea closer, into the circle of his arm. The wool of his sweater tickled her nose.

  "I'll ask John in the morning. I'm sure he'll jump at the chance to spend time with you." She smiled. "Thank you, Robert. I don't know what I'd do without you."

  Robert kissed the top of her head. "You'll never have to find out, Clea. I'm going to see to that."

  Chapter Six

  Nick shook the snow from his coat then hung it on a hook near the booth. He'd been looking forward to dinner at the café all day. His stomach rumbled with hunger.

  "Hey, ya, Nick," Lucy said, dropping a menu on the table. "Coffee?"

  "I'd love some." He tugged his gloves off. "It's damn cold out there."

  "The weatherman was sure wrong this time. The snow hasn't let up all day. I've never seen anything like it. This is as close to an all-out blizzard as we've ever had." Lucy poured the coffee. "I'll bet you've been busy over at the garage with all the fender benders."

  "Yep." Nick wrapped his hands around the warm mug, hoping to chase the chill away from his fingers. "I've had the tow truck out all day."

  Lucy smiled. "Do you know what you want? Pizza's the special tonight."

  At the mention of pizza his stomach growled. "Sounds good. How about one with everything on it?"

  "Coming right up." Lucy winked at him, then headed toward the kitchen.

  Due to the snow the café was pretty deserted. Only one other booth was occupied, and he didn't recognize the young couple. Their two small children colored on paper placemats while they waited for their food. Reaching over, the mother stroked her son's hair. The boy lifted his face, giving her a smile. Nick's insides seized up like an engine run dry of oil. What did it feel like to receive a smile like that from your son? He couldn't begin to imagine, but he longed to find out.

  Unable to take his eyes off the young family, he took a sip of his coffee. He'd seen the lights on at Clea's. What were she and John doing tonight? Did they have a fire burning? Were they playing games or watching television? What did normal families do in the evening?

  As a boy, his nights had been filled with looking after Billy, making him something to eat, watching the old black and white TV before going to bed. And later, as a teenager, he'd spent the evenings out, looking for trouble and finding it.

  He grimaced at the memories.

  The bell at the door tinkled. Clea came into the café, closing the door behind her. She paused to stomp the snow from her boots, then made a beeline for the counter.

  Something inside him softened as he looked at her, pulled him toward her. Nick came out of the booth. She turned.

  "Nick."

  He half expected a hardness to fi
ll her eyes, but instead he detected happiness in her tone. The knowledge pleased him.

  Her cheeks glowed pink from the cold. Snowflakes clung to her hair, which was already starting to curl from the dampness. He longed to reach out and wrap one of those golden curls around his fingers.

  "Hi. Where's John?" he asked.

  "With Robert." She frowned, her back straightening, almost as if she dared him to challenge her. "They're snowed-in at his place. I'm supposed to be there with them, but by the time we closed The Coffee House the snow was too deep on the road to the lake."

  Nick took a deep breath, hoping to quiet his temper. He didn't want his son alone with Boomer, yet as long as Clea and Robert were engaged it was inevitable. Even though the thought of Boomer and John alone bothered Nick, he didn't want Clea to know it, didn't want to argue with her. Not tonight. Thinking about her plans to leave town already had him in knots.

  Lucy came out of the kitchen. "Hey, Clea. Did you come for pizza?"

  "I sure did." Clea smiled at the waitress, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "I'll take one with everything to go."

  "I just ordered one with everything," Nick said, not wanting her to leave. With both Robert and John gone it left the door wide open for him. Time alone with Clea was just what he needed. "Join me for dinner."

  Clea glanced around the café, and he knew she wondered if anyone would tattle to Robert.

  "I can't eat an entire pizza," he coaxed.

  Clea raised one blonde brow. "I seem to remember that you can." She smiled, enhancing her beauty, making him ache for the easy conversation they'd once shared.

  "Not anymore." He grinned back. It felt good to banter with her, making him remember how they used to laugh. "Join me. I promise I'll behave. I could use the company." He pointed to the booth.

  "Oh, all right. I'll probably regret this." To Lucy she said, "Cancel my pizza. I'm joining Nick. Would you bring me a soda, please?"

  Lucy nodded and smiled. "Coming right up, honey." The waitress sailed back into the kitchen.

  Nick led her to the booth. "Let me take your coat."

  "Thanks." She pulled the black jacket off and he took it from her, his fingers brushing against hers.

  The contact sent tiny sparks through him, making him want to touch more than her hands. "Your hands are cold." He hung her coat up next to his, longing for the freedom to take her icy fingers in his warm ones.

  "It's cold outside." She slid into the seat opposite him. "I'm surprised you're not busy towing cars out of ditches."

  "I hope people will stay in tonight. I spent the day hauling cars out of the snow. Mullin has my cell number in case I'm needed."

  Lucy brought Clea's drink and set the glass on the table.

  "Thank you," Clea said to the waitress. She picked up her straw and removed the paper before inserting it into the soda.

  Nick watched as she sucked on the straw. She had the most beautiful mouth. He'd always thought so, but it was more than that. She had an inner beauty that had charmed him from the beginning, and it was that part of her he wanted to reconnect with most. She'd been so open with him, so honest when they'd been kids. She'd disarmed him in a way no one ever had before or since.

  "You're staring at me." Clea pushed her drink away.

  "I can't help it." Nick took a sip of his coffee, savoring the fresh brew. "For ten years I stared at your photo. Seeing you in the flesh is a sight to behold."

  "You had my photo with you?" she asked, surprise lacing her tone. "I don't remember giving you a photo."

  "Remember when we had our pictures taken at the photo booth at that discount store?" Nick looked into her eyes, eyes the color of summer grass. He wanted to drown in the crystal green depths, but he had to move slowly. He'd spooked her with his photo confession. Her body had tensed. Worry shadowed her features.

  "I remember," she said. "I just can't believe you kept them."

  "Did you keep yours?" He willed her to say yes. They'd split the photos that day.

  "No."

  The single word caused a sharp disappointment to knife through him. Had she cut up the pictures when he'd sent her away? He couldn't blame her if she had. She hadn't sent him one photo of John. And the money he'd sent Clea while in prison had been returned to him unopened. The lack of contact between them told him more than words ever could. He had so much to make up to her he didn't even know where to begin, but having dinner with her seemed a good place to start.

  The pizza arrived and the next minutes were spent eating.

  "God, this is good." He took a monster bite.

  "I know." Clea wrapped some wayward mozzarella around her finger then popped it into her mouth. "John and I look forward to pizza night all week." She licked her fingers. "We're regulars."

  "I've missed this." A wistful note crept into his voice and Clea brought her eyes to his.

  "Missed what?"

  "All of this." He glanced around. "Pizza, the smell of fresh air, the freedom to do what I want to do, when I want to do it. Freedom is endless here. It's more than coming and going as you please. In prison, your choices are limited and regulated. Here, on the outside, anything is possible. Anything."

  She stopped eating. The way she looked at him, as if she couldn't bear what he'd been through, cut to his soul.

  "Was it awful in prison?" she asked.

  He swallowed his pizza, not sure how much he wanted to tell her. The reality of prison life was brutal. "Yes, but I got used to it."

  "I don't think I could." She took another bite of pizza. "What did you do all day?"

  He wanted to say, Think of you. Think of our son. But that was only half-true. Fighting to stay alive and in one piece exhausted every minute when he wasn't in his cell. Instead he said, "I kept busy. I earned my Associates of Arts degree in Business through an online program. I also earned my certifications for collision repair and refinishing, brakes, suspension and steering, and engine repair. That's why Mr. Mullin was so interested in hiring me back."

  "That's amazing." Her eyebrows shot up, her pizza forgotten. "I'm impressed."

  "Don't be." He shrugged. "It filled the hours."

  "If you have your AA and so many certifications why are you working at Mullin's?" she asked. "I'm sure there are higher paying, more specialized jobs out there."

  "It's where I want to be right now." He looked at her and her eyes darkened. "What I'd like to do is open my own classic car restoration shop. I've drafted a business plan. A solid restoration business can be run from anywhere, even Port Bliss, thanks to the Internet. Parts can be located, bought and sold with a keystroke. It's exciting. There's big money to be made in classic car restoration."

  "Wow." Clea smiled. "You managed to go on with your life even though you were locked up. You should be proud, Nick."

  The pride in her words embarrassed him. He'd been in prison. There was nothing to be proud of. Wanting to change the subject, he said, "Let's talk about something else." He finished off his pizza.

  Clea leaned back. "It looks like we are both finally getting what we want."

  "What do you want, Clea?" he asked, almost afraid to hear her answer.

  She twirled the straw in her drink. A myriad of emotions crossed her face. He could see her hesitation to tell him anything, but also her need to tell him everything.

  "Tell me." He wanted to know, to understand her.

  Clea let go of her straw. "I want to make a living from my photography. I'm so close, Nick. I told you about the internship I've won. Winning the internship guarantees me a show in the Mitchell Art Museum. Doors will open for me. I'll be on my way to getting everything I want."

  "Everything?" The knot in his gut tightened. He didn't want her to leave, not when he couldn't follow, not when things were unresolved between them.

  "Everything. It will be a fresh start for me and for John."

  "What about Boomer?" Nick asked. A terrible hollowness burned in his chest at the thought of losing Clea and his son. "Where does
he fit in?"

  She shook her head. "What do you mean? You know where he fits in."

  "Is he part of your dream?"

  "Of course he is," Clea replied, her tone defensive. "He's going with us. He's got a good job waiting for him with a prestigious law firm in New York. He's going to help take care of John while I do my internship."

  Nick sat up straighter. Suddenly everything seemed clearer. A tiny ray of hope shone on his despair. "Is Boomer your babysitter, Clea? Is that why you're marrying him?"

  "No!" Her cheeks reddened. "I can't believe you would suggest such a thing. No, wait. I can believe it. You haven't changed at all, Nick." She waded up her napkin and tossed it on the table.

  "That's why you didn't say yes to him before," Nick said, ignoring her words, needing to dull the ache inside him. He didn't want to lose her, but had no idea how to keep her. Anger drove him, and he wanted to strike back. "You didn't need him like you do now. I'm right."

  "You're crazy!" Clea pulled some money from her pocket. "I have to go."

  "Keep your money. It's my treat." He'd upset her. He needed more time with her, time to find answers.

  "No." She held the money out to him. "I don't want to take anything from you, Nick."

  Her words cut him to the core, making him remember the returned envelopes of money. Refusing to take her cash, he picked up the check, went to the counter and paid.

  Clea joined him. The anger had left her eyes, leaving behind a sadness he didn't want to acknowledge. "I didn't want to fight with you, Nick." She passed him, heading for the door.

  "Wait a second." He didn't want to fight either. "I'll walk you home."

  "No, thank you," she said coolly. "Believe it or not, Nick, I can make my own way home. I've been doing it for years. I'm good at being alone."

  She brushed past him, leaving him to stare at her back.

  Bullshit. No one was good at being alone. He'd been alone for ten years. He'd hated the isolation, the wanting, the needing that went unfulfilled. He'd bet his freedom that Clea hated being alone as much as he did, and he intended to prove it.