“Nate,” I whisper, tears gathering in my eyes.
He clears his throat before looking back at me with a smile on his face. “I sure know how to liven up your Friday night, huh?” I smile and the tears that were gathering start to fall. His gaze flicks to one before he gently wipes under my left eye. I shy away from him, not wanting to be center of his attention. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
“Okay,” I croak out, pulling away completely and sliding out of the opposite side of the booth, walking through the crowd, knowing he’s following behind me.
I need to keep my emotions in check, I have to not let it all come to the surface because I’m afraid if I do—if I let myself feel everything around me—it’ll open up the locked box I shoved down all those years ago.
Six years—that’s how long it’s been for Tris and he still isn’t over what happened to Natalia. Just like I’m not over what happened to me.
They say there are several stages to grief, but what happens when you don’t allow yourself to feel any of those stages? What happens when you push it all down, refusing to allow a single emotion to come to the surface?
Does it disappear until one day you don’t need to lock it away? Or does it all explode much like a volcano that hasn’t erupted for hundreds of years?
I hope it’s the first because if it’s the latter, I know I won’t survive.
“Come on, Clay.”
He doesn’t look up from where he’s sitting on the sun lounger a few feet from the pool in the backyard, his book open in his lap as his gaze flits back and forth on the text. From the moment he got in the car when I picked him up from school he hasn’t put it down; I practically had to carry him out here while Izzie went to get changed.
“I’m reading,” he murmurs.
The sound of Izzie’s squealing has me spinning around, spotting her walking over the grass toward the pool, sunlight hitting off her bright-pink short bottoms and crop top swimsuit.
“Can you show me how to do a mushroom today?” she asks, her sweet voice the only sound in the backyard.
“Sure, sweetie.” I pull the hair tie off my wrist, walking toward her and quickly putting her hair up into a ponytail. “As soon as Clay goes and gets changed.”
He grumbles under his breath as Izzie spins around to face him, her hands planting on her hips, her face a mask of seriousness.
“Go and get changed.”
“Nope.”
She stomps her little foot. “Yes.”
“Nope.”
“Yes.”
She watches him for several seconds, staying silent until he finally looks up. My lips lift into a smile, knowing exactly what she’s going to do. She has him wrapped around her little finger, just like her dad.
Her bottom lip wobbles as she sniffles.
“Ugh! Fine.” He stands up, closing his book, his brow furrowing as he stares at her for several seconds before his shoulders lift on a sigh. “I’ll go and get changed.”
He walks off into the house and as soon as he’s gone Izzie flicks her blue-eyed gaze up at me and grins. “He’s gone to get changed.”
I chuckle. “That he has.”
She gives me a knowing look. She may only be nearly six but she knows how to get what she wants. I don’t encourage it, but days like today when I know Clay is stuck inside his own head—just like his dad gets—I know he needs a distraction. And playing in the pool for an hour or two will do just that.
Izzie’s little hand clasps mine and we both walk into the water from the shallow end, my black bikini bottoms getting wet as we go to my waist height.
I show her how to do a mushroom float, going under the water briefly so she knows what to do. She tries to do it several times until she finally gets it and breaks the surface, catching her breath and squealing she did it.
“Bombs away!” No sooner do we hear Clay shout does he cannonball into the pool, splashing us both with water.
“Clay!” Izzie shouts, her laughter surrounding us. “Show me how to do that!”
“Be careful,” I warn, standing in the water on the other side as she gets out along with Clay so he can show her.
Maybe I shouldn’t let them do it, but sometimes telling them not to only means they’ll try and do it when nobody's watching. It doesn’t matter how many times you tell someone not to do something, all it does is intrigue them to do it more. It’s safer to let them try and to be there to catch them if they hit the water at an awkward angle.
Izzie stands at the edge of the pool next to Clay as he instructs her. “You need to jump, bring your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around them.” She leans down to wrap her arms around her legs. “No,” he says, shaking his head and snorting. “You jump as high as you can toward the water and then bring your knees up.” He takes a couple of steps back. “I always do a run up... Watch.”
She stumbles to the side as she watches him intently do a cannonball into the water before she readies herself to copy him.
“Be careful, Izzie,” I warn a second time, nerves batting around in my stomach. Maybe I really shouldn’t let her do this?
She has no fear as she runs toward the pool, jumping and doing exactly what Clay said.
“Yes!” he shouts, holding his hand up for a high five when she comes back up.
“Did I do it?” she asks, her eyes hopeful as she smacks her palm against Clay’s.
“You did,” I say, paddling closer to her. She holds her arms out to me, and I pop her on my hip.
“Yay!” She fist bumps the air. “Thanks, Clay.”
He shrugs. “Anytime.”
He hates being praised; you can see it makes him uncomfortable and he tends to go off on his own when it happens. Just like he’s doing now as he swims toward the deeper end of the pool.
“How about a game of volleyball?” I ask, placing Izzie on the side of the pool as I grab the net.
“Me and Clay against you?” Izzie asks.
“Yep! I’m gonna beat you this time!”
“Uh-uh.” She shakes her head. “You never win.”
I walk through the water to the other side, placing the net in the holder in the middle of the pool. “Maybe today is my lucky day.”
Today isn’t my lucky day, they win, and it’s not even like I didn’t try, because I did.
“You cheated!” I exclaim when they score the last point that wins them the game.
“Someone is a sore loser.”
I startle at the deep voice, spinning around and squeaking.
“Daddy!” Izzie paddles over to the shallow end of the pool before taking the couple of steps and rushing around to where Tristan stands at the edge with his hands in the pants of his navy-blue suit pockets.
“Hey, pumpkin.” He reaches for her, picking her up and not caring that he’s going to have a wet patch in the shape of her body. “I see you beat Amelia again.”
“We did,” she says, nodding her head up and down before lowering her voice. “She’s not very good at sports and stuff.”
“Hey!” I wrinkle my nose at her as I undo the net and move closer to them to put it away.
“She’s right,” Clay murmurs as he swims over to help me. “You’re not.”
“Psshhh, how do you know I didn’t let you win, huh?”
Clay’s gray eyes clash with mine as he raises a brow. “There’s no way you can pretend to be that bad.”
My mouth opens and closes like a fish as he finishes putting the net away.
“Gonna catch flies there, A.” Tristan’s laugh has my back straightening. All three pairs of eyes are on me now, watching to see what I’ll do.
They’re right, I didn’t let them win, and okay, maybe I am a sore loser.
“Whatever,” I scoff, walking out of the pool and wrapping a towel around my body before handing one to Tristan for Izzie. “You can’t beat me at Scrabble.” I smirk, knowing the only person who could give me a run for my money is Clay.
Clay picks his towel up off the
sun lounger. “We could play? That way I can show you I can beat you.”
“You’re on!” I point, spinning around. “Let me grab a shower and get changed and I’ll meet you in the main room.”
“So competitive,” Tristan says, shaking his head.
I shrug, not caring. I love to win, what’s the problem with that? “Whatever, Mr. CEO.”
He chuckles, lifting Izzie off his hip and placing her down. “You two go and get changed and I’ll order takeout.”
“Pizza?” they both ask in unison.
“Yep.”
They walk off, already arguing about who’s going to get the first slice from the box, their voices slowly disappearing as they enter the house.
“Go on then,” Tristan commands. “Go get changed, we’ll meet you back in the house.”
I stare up at him running his hand through his hair, not being able to stop thinking back to the conversation I had with Nate.
“You didn’t know him before everything.”
Was he much different to how he is now? It isn’t often I see him outside of the house and not around the kids. I know I see a different side to everyone else; I get to see the man who has become like a brother to me, the dad who dotes on his kids.
Should I be doing something to help him instead of not saying a word? We have the kind of relationship where I know I can voice my opinion, and because I don’t do it often, I’m taken seriously when I do.
All I can hear is Nate’s voice in my head. Was he trying to get me to say something to Tristan? No. That’s not Nate’s style. If he wanted to say something he would, he wouldn’t go through me.
“A?”
“What?”
“You good? You’ve been standing there staring at me for the last five minutes.” I shake my head, blinking my eyes several times in a row as the corner of his lip turns up into a smirk. “I know I’m a big shot CEO and the suits make me a hot commodity with the ladies, but please don’t say you’re crushing on me.”
My eyes widen as I stare at him in shock. “Ewww! Tris, you’re practically my brother.”
His smirk turns into a full-on grin at the look of horror that must be displaying across my face, his eyes filling with laughter.
“Don’t lie, it’s the suits, isn’t it?” He pulls on the cuffs of his sleeve before putting one hand in one of his pants pocket and striking a pose.
I stare at him like he has two heads and four arms. “That’s disgusting. You’re disgusting.” He throws his head back, his laugh echoing around us and floating on the wind. When I realize he’s playing me up, I shout, “You ass!” I punch his arm. “You shouldn’t do that!”
His laughter dies down to chuckles as he steps forward, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and bringing his knuckles to my head.
“I can’t help it, it’s hilarious to wind you up.”
“Ugh!” I stomp my bare foot on the top of his shoe, pulling away and taking a few steps before spinning back around. “I’d never… never look at you like that.” I shiver. “Just… ewww.”
I turn my back to him before pacing over the grass and to the pool house, still hearing his laughter behind me.
Douche.
I shake Mr. Haynes’s hand and we part ways after our early breakfast meeting, loosening my tie and undoing the top button of my shirt on the way to my car.
Taking off my suit jacket and throwing it on the passenger seat as I climb in, I drive my way to my place to change clothes and cars, my surfboard already waiting for me in my Land Rover.
I’ve always loved surfing. My dad and I used to go whenever he had the time off work. It was always our thing until I started college and met Tris. I introduced him to surfing and then it was our thing.
We’ve been best friends for over fourteen years, but the last six have been hard and pretty one-sided on my end. I don’t blame him completely, Natalia was my cousin and I miss her more than anything. But I also miss mine and Tris’s friendship. Sure, I have other friends, but it’s not the same and I won’t give up on trying to get him out of his shell.
The traffic crawls to a standstill and I quickly check my cell, he still hasn’t messaged me back—today or over the last two weeks apart from shitty one-worded answers that he’s “okay” or the kids are “fine.”
My fingers type furiously over the screen and I hit send.
Nate: I’m giving you the weekend but be prepared, come Monday I’m going to be all over you like a rash. This isn’t healthy, Tris.
I sigh and pocket my cell, driving out of the city and pulling down the only road in and out of my property. I bought this land and had a house built on it three years ago to get out of the way of the town. I love being around people, but I also love my privacy. Not only that, but the land I bought is perfect for fishing, golfing, and four-wheeling. My backyard is the size of a football field and perfect for expansion if I ever wanted to, or if or when I ever have kids, I’ll build them a treehouse or den.
I wanted to build something for Izzie and Clay but I’ve never gotten around to it. Work keeps me plenty busy and Tris spends every moment he has free with them anyway. Maybe I should talk to Amelia about it and ask her to bring them over?
That thought has me grinning like a Cheshire cat; any excuse to be near her. We’ve never really been alone properly until the night I took her to Gillies sports bar, and although we have differing opinions on how Tris is handling things, I kinda like that she put me in my place. Like I said to my interns: I like someone that has a voice and isn’t afraid to speak up.
The large glass building of my home looms ahead of me, it’s mostly made of floor-to-ceiling windows and wood giving it an industrial look. But I like it.
I press my key fob and the large garage attached to the side—the only thing that isn’t made of glass—opens up for me, displaying a row of vehicles inside. Did I mention I love cars?
I get out and head inside to change, slipping on my short-sleeved wetsuit, leaving the top hanging and a crisp white t-shirt to cover my top half. I grab some board shorts and my Converse, slipping them on before putting in the code for the security alarm and heading toward my metallic-blue Land Rover.
There’s not a cloud in the sky as I drive to the beach. Several teens are there with their boards and I nod to them as I wax mine, slotting it in the sand as I warm up. The water will be freezing so it’s important I go in with my muscles warm.
When I’m happy I’m all warmed up, I slip the leash on my back leg and carry my board into the water, starting to paddle farther out to sea. I duck dive under the oncoming waves until I’m past the breaking point in the water.
When I’m in a good position, I sit up on my board, dangling my legs in the water on either side of me and wait for a decent wave. The teen to the right of me spots a good one and I let him take it since he’s first in the lineup. Another wave comes shortly after and I set my sights on it, turning around to face the beach and dropping back down into a lying position. I feel the adrenaline rolling through me as I start to paddle and when I feel the board start to lift, I pop up into the perfect standing position and start to gain speed as I surf the wave.
I reach the end and lower myself back down into a paddling position so I can paddle my way back out and do it all over again.
After several hours of surfing and one burger stop—I don’t eat healthy all the time—I’m pooped and end up falling asleep on my sofa when I get back. I’m woken up by my cell ringing and I’m confused as hell when I see it’s Charlotte—Tris’s mom—calling at ten at night.
I sit up, rubbing my eyes as I press answer. “Hi, Charlotte. Is everything okay?”
My muscles tense as I hear her sigh; I haven’t received a call from her in a very long time.
“Nathan, Harmony is back and Tristan had a run-in with her.”
I scrub a hand down my face. Shit.
I blow out a breath and stand up, pacing my living room floor. “I… How do you know?” I decide to play dumb, nothing good wi
ll come from her knowing I knew right now.
“The kids, they started an art class and you’d never believe who the teacher is.”
Harmony’s studio, of course! “Do I need to answer that?”
“Are you free to meet for brunch tomorrow? There’s something I need to discuss with you.”
I march into my home office and check my schedule. “I’m completely free. Name a time and place.”
“Queen Alexandras at eleven.”
“I’ll be there,” I reply. “And, Charlotte?”
“Yes?”
“He’s okay, isn’t he? The kids are okay?”
She sighs heavily. “The kids are okay.”
I nod even though I know she can’t see me. “Okay, tomorrow then. Good night.”
“You too.”
She doesn’t say goodbye before she hangs up and I’m left with my head reeling. I toss my cell back and forth between my hands, desperate to call Tris and talk to him, but I don't know how much good that would do. He probably won’t answer my call anyway. It’ll have to wait until tomorrow.
I pull up at Queen Alexandras, the valet immediately opening my car door. I get out and hand him my keys and a tip.
“Thank you, sir.”
I nod and take the steps up to the doors two at a time, the doorman smiling at me as he opens one side for me.
“Thank you,” I say, walking through the grand lobby, the crystal chandelier sparkling above me. I pay no attention to anyone else as I search the dining room for Charlotte. I spot her at a private table on the balcony, which must mean what she has to say she wants to keep under wraps.
When I reach the table, she stands and wraps me in a hug, shocking me.
“I’m so glad you agreed to meet me,” she says, pulling away and sitting back down.
“I was surprised by your call, actually.”
“Can I get you something to drink, sir?”
I smile at the waiter. “Coffee, please.”
“Certainly. The brunch courses will start to come out in fifteen minutes, starting with an array of fruits.”
Fighting Our Way Page 4