What he means is, he’ll be right back to set up a pallet in Nathan and Tracey’s room, because there are no more rooms!
Nathan chuckles in my head. You’re likely right.
I sigh, I better get going. He’s calling me.
Scott taps my arm, again saying, “Let’s go, Tracey.”
I wrap an arm around Glen’s waist and pull her to Nathan’s room. Hopefully, this was the last of our surprise visitors. A cringing reminder of tomorrow’s dinner draws on a stressful tired. “Oh gosh,” I mutter under my breath. “This is going to be a fun weekend.”
delayed obstruction
I turn into a fully clothed Nathan, the cotton of his shirt brushing my cheek instead of the bare chest I was expecting. Seeking a hand or foot, my toes slide down the pant leg of his sweats, and I find his feet.
Shit, Sparks! Your feet are freezing.
Sliding my feet beneath his, they warm, and I try to relax. Sorry. I can’t sleep. Scott’s snoring is driving me crazy.
That’s your excuse for putting your freezing toes on me?
I laugh. Your house is cold.
He pulls my leg up and takes my foot in his hand and rubs the cold away. “Better?”
“Getting there. Thanks.”
“Give me the other one.”
I lift it to his reach and try to drown out Scott’s snores with thoughts. I told Mom that I’d be staying out tonight, but I wish I’d dragged Nathan back to my house. Scott snores louder than a lion’s roar. How can Glen take that every night?
“I have no idea,” Nathan says. “We should’ve gone to your house and let them have the room.”
“What time is it? Maybe we still can.”
Nathan leans over, stealing a glance at the nightstand. “One forty.” A bear’s growl cuts through the room. At least it sounds like it.
“Alright. We’re leaving,” I say, climbing out of bed.
“Fine by me,” Nathan follows.
I throw on my shoes and ignore my idea to change clothes considering I’m dressed for a run. Nathan stuffs his feet in his sneakers, and we head out, pulling the door closed behind us.
We make it to my house in minutes, and good thing because my sleepiness has finally caught up with me. Grabbing my front door’s knob in my hand, I twist and twist. “What the hell?” I whisper, pushing the door and aggressively twisting the knob.
“Stop before you wake your Mom!” Nathan says, snatching my hand from the doorknob. He lifts his free hand, revealing a clean golden key reflecting the light of the moon on its ridged edges. “It’s just locked.”
“Stupid door is never locked. I forgot,” I say a bit embarrassed since I’m the one who talked Mom into locking it.
We enter my home, and I find serenity in it being peaceful. Mom’s safe and sound, sleeping peacefully. I kiss her cheek and creep out of her room, quietly pulling the door closed.
My day started at five thirty this morning and with the festive events that took me from Nathan withdrawals, a troll called Top, Jaworski with the composure of the pope, and Scott’s snoring . . . It’s been one hell of a day.
I lean against my dresser, trying to control my hearing. Everything’s incredibly loud: Nathan’s shoes flopping on the floor as he kicks them off, the refrigerator’s motor running, Mom’s soft snoring, and I know it’s my imagination, but I’d swear I can hear Scott too.
Nathan strips off his shirt and pulls me to the bed. “Ready for sleep?” he whispers in my ear.
I climb in next to him, covering my ears with my hands. Turning into his chest, I fill my senses with his scent that turns my bones to liquid and relaxes every muscle. Tonight, I find sleep quicker than I ever have.
“Tracey.” I’m shaken. “Tracey, this is not appropriate,” Mom’s voice cuts into a serene dream.
I snuggle closer to Nathan, trying to eliminate the discomforts interrupting my slumber.
“Even worse, Tracey Nicole Warren.”
Wait. The feeling of my room coated in Mom’s presence jolts me upward. “Mom!” I shriek. Nathan shifts behind me, and I rush to spit out the words. “I can totally explain this.”
She straightens from being bent over my bed and awaits this grand explanation I’ve yet to think up.
“And no, it’s not what you think,” I add. Usually when people say that it’s exactly what they may be thinking, but not this time. She’s probably thinking along the lines of sex, and that did not happen.
Nathan sits up, and I wish he hadn’t. Mom’s eyes buck at him half-naked and him being in my bed. “Hello, Karen,” he shyly mutters.
“Hello, Nathan.” She looks him over, eyebrows pulled so tightly together they redden.
“He’s been working out since he was like, twelve,” I mumble in an attempt to lessen her befuddlement from his supposed to be twenty-year-old physique.
Her narrowed gray eyes shift to me. “How about you explain what’s going on here.” She lifts her index finger, once cuffed around the muscle of her crossed arm, to point between Nathan and me.
Honesty’s the key, here. Mom and I have a great candid relationship. She tells me I can tell her anything and that I can be truthful. Although, I don’t expect her to be cool about walking into her daughter’s room and seeing me in bed with my boyfriend. No mom would ever be cool with that.
“Okay . . . see, Nathan’s been gone for the past few days, and I missed him. I asked him if he could come over. He did, reluctantly, knowing he didn’t have your approval. But, it was late, and I hadn’t seen him, and I needed him around me. I’d hoped we’d be up before you woke up and honestly, I didn’t know the door was unlocked. I’m more so sorry that I got caught, but we meant no disrespect.” She looks back at Nathan’s bare chest. “He sleeps without a shirt. But” —I pull back the covers— “We’re majority fully clothed.”
She looks at me head on, analyzing my story with a squinted right eye and a risen left eyebrow. Nude lips press into a thin line as she folds her arms in front of her chest. “Okay,” she finally says with a nod. “You two come down for breakfast.” She leaves, stopping at the door. “And, Nathan. Put on a shirt.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He stands from the bed and crosses my room to the chaise. Snatching up his shirt, he throws it over his head, hiding his gloriousness under its black cotton fabric.
“Thank you for telling the truth, Tracey.” Mom pulls back my attention, giving me a stern warning look that says, this better not happen again.
I nod.
She leaves, sure to push the door all the way open on her exit.
I throw myself back on the bed. “That wasn’t cool.”
Nathan chuckles, sitting beside me. “It was bound to happen. I’m surprised it took this long.” His voice lowers. “Good thing you weren’t on any freaky stuff last night or it would’ve been worse.”
I punch his arm without as much force as I’ve used before. “Let’s go downstairs,” I say, pulling him from my room.
“Good morning,” Mom greets, placing glasses of OJ on the prepared table.
“Good morning,” we reply, taking our usual seats beside each other—across from her.
“You were gone, Nathan?” I can always count on Mom to keep things cordial. Even after what just happened.
“I was. I needed to help out my family in Norway.” And Nathan, to act as if nothing in the world ever bothers him. He mixes his scrambled eggs and grits together, upholding Mom’s conversation with ease.
“You are very family oriented.” Mom observes.
“Yes ma’am, I try to be.”
I eat as they chat; glad none of the conversation is directed towards me. I’m so embarrassed I was caught in bed with my boyfriend, my cheeks haven’t stopped burning. Though Mom doesn’t seem too upset, I’m sure she isn’t just sweeping this under the rug. She’s going to find the most awkward time to bring it back up. Thank goodness Dad’s not home yet. Speaking of. . . “When is Dad making it in?”
Mom taps her phone, seeming to check
the time. “He should be arriving within the next couple of hours. What time are we supposed to arrive at your house?” she asks Nathan.
“I’d say around five, giving Mr. Warren some time to get in and settled.”
She nods. “I must be honest with you two.” She sets her fork down and folds her hands. “I never thought I would greet you coming down from Tracey’s bedroom.” She looks between us. “In the morning,” she adds. “Tracey doesn’t even like people in her bedroom,” she says to her plate.
“I’m sorry about that, Mom. Really. That shouldn’t have happened.”
“May I ask you a question and you be completely honest with me?” She meets my eyes. “How often or how many times has Nathan been in your bedroom?”
I wince from the lie gliding over my tongue, ready for me to let it slide past my lips. Biting it back, I battle trading it for the truth. She doesn’t deserve for me to lie to her. She leans back in her chair, waiting for my answer. Half-truth. “This wouldn’t be the first time.”
Nathan’s fork drops to his plate. He snatches it up and I feel him peek at me as his breathing nervously changes.
Mom nods. “Do you care to share a number?”
Nope, nu-un. “Not. Really,” I drag out with a slow shrug and pinch to the left side of my nose.
“Tracey!” she exclaims in disbelief, seeming to know the answer.
“Mom!” I match her tone.
She leans forward, placing her elbows on the table. She never puts her elbows on the table.
Nathan sits back in his chair. I take a deep breath, readying myself for her scold.
Mom doesn’t begin instantly, her etched expression reflecting her disapproval for my action and half-truth. “How many times have you awakened in Nathan’s bed?”
Again, I wince, caught off guard by another question. I don’t want to answer it. But I’m an adult partaking in adult actions. I should be able to tell her the truth. I should be able to be honest with my mother, who trusts me to make responsible decisions. I shift my gaze from my hands to her, meeting her impatient eyes. Their stingy gray enhances as her pupils draw inward with her focusing in on me. They nearly cut me open as a hair falls from her perfectly laid ponytail.
A hair is definitely out of place with this one, I think to Nathan. Nervously sliding my fingers over my eyebrows, I admit, “Okay. A few.”
“A few?” she repeats derisively, folding her hands under her chin.
“Yes.”
Removing her elbows from the table, her hands settle in her lap as she straightens her spine. “Do your parents know about this?”
I suppose Nathan must find it somewhat of an insult when my parents look upon him as a child. He’s never said that, but I know I hate it when they do it to me. Even them knowing he’s in his twenties, they always bring up his mom being approving of one thing or another.
Nathan nods, answering, “Yes.”
“Tracey!” Mom yelps my name as if I’ve just robbed a bank, got away scot free, and came over to break the news to her.
I hurry to defend us. “Okay, Mom. I know this was something you weren’t expecting, and I may have let you down a bit. But we’re honest with you, and that has to count for something. Right?”
She says nothing for a while, and her silence makes me nervous. “Okay, where are you two going with this relationship? Because this seems a little advanced. . . Sleeping together?” she breathes in a higher pitch.
Looking to Nathan, he shakes his head, declining his help. These conversations are so foreign to me. Everything I say seems like the wrong thing. “Past today,” I reply.
“That is not a sufficient answer, Tracey.”
“You’re right. But I don’t really know how to answer your question. Not to you.” I let the child in me show. I can tell someone else what this is between Nathan and me, but not to Mom. I don’t want her to think I’m full of it like Dad does. It’s easy to say I love him and we’re meant to be together by some higher power, which is why I don’t fight it; why I can’t fight it. It’s simple to release that truth, especially to someone from his world who understands mating, falling in love by a touch, and being bound. But trying to explain that to someone from the world I grew up. People frown upon things like love at first sight. I even frowned upon it. Nowadays, people don’t believe in eternal love. Or love, period. So, to convince her that I’m permanently tied to the man of my dreams, just by him hitting me in my school’s parking lot, or bound by lewd acts that seal our love for an eternity, would be like singing to the deaf.
“Then pretend that I am not me,” Mom suggests. It’s more than obvious she’s upset but composing herself. Her accent’s peeking out more than usual, though she’s trying to push it down. “Maybe, as if, I am Nathan’s mother asking, considering she knows more about this than I.” That’s easier said than done, but I know now this is more about me not telling her than it is about Nathan and I sleeping together—as she’d put it.
“Okay, Mom. Waving the white flag here.” I try my hand at a truth that’ll make sense to her. “I love him in a way that can’t be explained by I love you, or I want you. My heart beats for Nathan in a way you’ll never believe or understand. With that being said, as he and I take this one day at a time and grow in and with one another, we guide time and reveal to it where we go. Now, we battle a grudging coming of age, then years from now, we’ll marry. Years from that, we’ll have a family, and if the same fate that brought us together allows us the blessing of seeing old age, we’ll die together. Time just happens to be flying faster within us than around us.” I shrug, leaning back in my chair.
“That was more than I expected from you, Tracey. You’ve been so quiet about your relationship. The three of us may spend time together, but you two never reflect your intimacy, and for that, I’m grateful. I only mean to imply, you’ve only mentioned it once and demanded your father and I leave the subject alone.” Her studious gaze flicks to Nathan, requesting his input. They chat a lot too, but also, not about us.
He clears his throat. “We are serious, Karen. And she’s right, we aren’t temporary. Yes, I agree with you. Our sleeping together is advanced. And yes, my mother is aware of this, of us and our actions. We’ve spoken with her about her feelings on it, and she’s provided us with her thoughts and her blessing. It would have been appropriate for me to have the same conversation with you, and for my lack of forethought, you have my apologies.” He takes a pause. “However, I’m here for the long haul, and I want to be with your daughter, of course with you and your husband’s consent. I’ll give no reason to doubt our relationship, and it’s lasting because I have no greater desire than to care for and genuinely love Tracey. Please, excuse my disrespect and causing you to question me and my intentions with her.”
Mom picks up her glass of orange juice with one hand and pushes back the hair that’s fallen from her ponytail with the other. After taking a drink, she asks, “I’d like to speak with your mother.”
“Of course.” Nathan chimes with a smile. “Talk to her tonight. She’d be happy to exchange words. She’s been waiting to meet you, knowing Tracey’s a part of our family.”
That had to have slipped!
“Excuse me?” Mom states, surprised by his statement.
I can read the ‘oh shit’ on Nathan’s face as he rubs his hand over his bearded chin. Sometimes he’s a little too comfortable talking to Mom. “I’m sorry. Again, in my mother’s eyes, the girl who could finally win over her son, she’d make sure I do nothing to run her away and everything to make her comfortable. She’s adamant about Tracey and I staying together because of our talks and she knows the way I look at Tracey, what all she means to me.” He takes a moment. “She’s accepted her and looks upon her as a daughter.”
Okay, babe. Maybe you should put the brakes on it, I tell him.
Nathan nervously shrugs. It’s just coming out like water, Sparks. I tried biting my tongue four times, but it just keeps flowing out.
Well, stuff som
e eggs in it.
Mom nods. “And how do you feel about that, Tracey? Being already accepted into Nathan’s family, or looked upon as such?”
I’m trying to figure out why we’re still on the subject. Can’t we talk about the bacon or how good the orange juice is?
Becoming impatient, Mom taps her index finger on the table, causing the thump to pound against my eardrums. “I call her Mom . . . sometimes.” That should cover it and drop this subject.
Her thumping finger stops and her eyes spread wider than I’ve ever seen. A minute later, they lower as she calms. “Why didn’t you come to me about this, Tracey? I thought we had a good relationship.”
I throw up my hands in defense, eager to agree. “We do, Mom, we do. But considering I’ve introduced you to him and bring him around often, I figured it was self-explanatory. No disrespect. But this isn’t like me. You know that.”
A line etches between her brows. “I do. But before you started sleeping in the same bed with a boy, I thought you would talk to me about it first. I don’t know.” Her slim shoulders bounce in a shrug. “I guess I always assumed you discussed everything with me, regardless of the severity, harshness, or rareness of it.”
I feel bad. I’ve let her down. “I’m sorry, Mommy. You and I have had a lot going on. But knowing our relationship and the amount of trust you have in me, I should’ve brought it to you instead of you catching me up in it.”
She nods. “At least you waited until you were eighteen to start these types of actions.” Yeah, something like that. “Be safe, okay?” she utters awkwardly. “I understand you love Nathan and I respect that.” She’s such a sucker for love. “You are on the verge of becoming an adult, old enough to make responsible decisions, and I don’t want to remove you from him. You two are lovely together. . . outside of the bedroom. Nathan, I like you. You are a nice young man and I can see you genuinely care for Tracey.”
She traces the rim of her glass with the pad of her middle finger as she leans back in her chair. There’s a soft whistle I doubt she can hear from her doing so. I guess she’s taking it all in. But by the twitch of her bottom lip, it doesn’t look like she’s finished.
Brazen: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Sephlem Trials Book 2) Page 13