Choices, Loyalty, & Love (Men of NatEx #3): A Package Handlers Novel

by Kyle Autumn

  “Because I had ten minutes of alone time with her yesterday after she took a phone call that upset her.”

  Now, I reel my head back. “Why would you have been alone with her? And why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Why do I need to tell you, Aidan? She’s not your girlfriend.” His eyes are cold, challenging. But then he breathes in deep and closes his eyes. “Look,” he says, his tone a little softer. “Something’s going on with her. That’s all I know.”

  “Yeah,” I spit at him. “My brother fucked around with someone else. That’s what’s going on.”

  At that, his eyes go wide. In shock, I think, which means that’s not what he was talking about. There’s something else going on with her.

  “He did what?” Matt says too loudly for the small space we’re in. Then he quiets himself down while Jeremy and I stare each other down. “I mean, wow. No wonder she’s on your doorstep. You’d never do that to her.”

  “Damn right,” I mutter under my breath, but I don’t unlock my gaze from Jeremy.

  There’s something he’s not saying. Something he won’t tell me. Something more going on with Nic.

  So I rush to rise from my seat and march out the door, ready to drive straight to the hotel—straight to Nic—to find out what that is.

  Chapter 10

  Aidan

  Pounding on their hotel room door gets me nowhere. No one answers, though someone from a neighboring room peeks their head out to see what the commotion is about. I wave in an apology and back away from the door. Then I rake my hand through my hair in frustration and make my way for the elevator.

  As I descend the seven floors, I wonder if they just went to dinner. It’s about that time. But why wouldn’t they have called? He’s the one who wanted to have dinner with me so badly. So something seems fishy. At the same time, though, this is probably a sign from the universe to give the hell up already. If she wanted to tell me what was going on, she could have. But she didn’t. So, at some point, I need to figure out when enough is enough.

  Would she have told me though? I pretty much told her she could fuck off when it came to telling me shit. I really should have been less of an asshole when it came to that. It’s no excuse, but the pain I felt when she rejected me still burns red hot under the surface of my skin. At least she knows how I still feel at this point. Like I said, if she wants me, she can come get me. That part never changed.

  But I’m really questioning whether I went too far and caused more damage than I meant to. After everything Cadence said to me, and now with knowing that something’s going on with Nic, I’m afraid I fucked up big time. Nic needs to know I’m here for her, even if we’re not enjoying the type of relationship I want with her.

  She’ll always be special to me. No matter what.

  So, when I step into the lobby, I decide to reach out to her. I’ll let her know I’m here to help her through whatever she’s going through. If nothing else, it’ll show her that I’m not a bad guy and mean well. But, when I go to pull her name up on my phone, I freeze.

  If I hit that button, I’ll see that text I never read.

  That’s not something I’m ready for. There’s a reason I didn’t read it then, and if I read it now, it might not even be true anymore. Whatever it says could give me false hope. Or maybe it’s a harmless message I blew out of proportion. I don’t know which way this message could swing and can’t take the risk at the moment. Not with how messy things have already gotten since she and my brother showed up to town.

  What would I even say? Hi. I’m sorry I’m a total asshole when it comes to you right now. Even though you can’t possibly think so, I’m here to help you through whatever you’re going through. Sorry for storming out like a jerk, but I fucking love you so damn much still and can’t figure out how to deal with that.

  Yeah, I don’t think so.

  However, this whole thing goes to show that I’m not exactly reliable. I didn’t respond when she reached out to me months ago. So she probably can’t trust me for shit. No matter what I say.

  I could message my brother to see where they are. Maybe I can set up dinner myself. Seeing her in person would give me better assurance that she’s heard me, understood me, and knows full well that she can count on me. I don’t know how I’d do that without my brother knowing—except that he seems pretty busy while he’s here, so I could probably get her alone.

  Hopefully only long enough to tell her I’m sorry and I’m here for her. Any more alone time than that and I might do something we both regret.

  In the end, I go back to my Jeep and leave it all alone. I have to trust that she knows I’m going to be here if she needs me. She has my phone number, and I told her to come to me if and when she was ready to. That has to be enough.

  When I pull out into traffic, I’m not sure of my destination. I drive aimlessly for a while, heading in the general direction of my house but not really on the right path. Then, when I pass a craft store, I realize where my heart was taking me.

  If I can’t find Nic in real life, I can make her come to life through acrylic and canvas.

  I liked painting before I met her. But, once she’d become my every source of inspiration and all of my brushstrokes led to portraits of her, I knew I’d fallen in love with the hobby. So much so that I could envision myself creating, showing, and even selling my art alongside my muse. She’d pursue her passion while I did the same, and we could have a co-owned yoga-slash-art studio for exercise, therapy, fun, and income. We’d live the life we always wanted to. Together.

  Obviously, that never happened. And I stuffed those desires down the moment I got on a plane and left home. I didn’t look back, other than those phone calls with my mother. I wouldn’t abandon her entirely. She’s politely never asked about coming back, but over the first year, she did mention painting. I conveniently sidestepped the conversation enough that she stopped asking altogether. And I haven’t really thought about it until I saw Nic again on Sunday.

  The draw to the aisle with all the painting supplies I could possibly need to pick this habit back up is strong. Once I’m in front of the canvases and paints and brushes, memories flood me to the point where I can’t breathe. I might drown in the shades of brown I could use for her hair. The touches of creamy tan I could choose for her curves. The nude color I’d pick for that bra she had on.

  The perfect light-pink hue of her panties.

  I haven’t once painted Nic in less-than-appropriate attire. I’d never even seen her like that until the other day. But the vision of her in that hotel room bathroom clouds over any other vision I have of her. So I pick a few brushes, a couple of canvases, and suitable shades of paint—including a cherry red for her perfect mouth. Which I’ll tilt into a peaceful smile so she’s happier in some version of her life.

  In my imagination, Nic is never sad enough to cry like that. She’s happy and carefree, changing the world one yoga pose at a time. So the moment paint touches canvas, I already know how I’ll portray her. I barely have to think between one brushstroke to the next. My instincts take over, muscle memory kicks in, and it’s like I haven’t spent six years running away from the things I love.

  They’re both closer than ever, still with me even now. But one’s slightly too far out of reach. And this is the only way I can keep her with me for good.

  Hours later, I put my brush down and examine my work. I wouldn’t say that it’s the best thing I’ve ever done, but it’s the most authentic. The most real. The one that demonstrates just how I see Nic. The light she shines. The power she has. The strength she possesses. She has no idea what she’s capable of because she’s never put it to the test.

  Maybe someday I can show her this painting so she can see what I see in her. In fact, I might have to make that happen before she goes home.

  It might be my last shot before I lose her forever.

  ***

  Nic

  “Mason,” I say the moment we walk in the door.

  He releases a
deep, long exhale as he sets our luggage down in the foyer. Then he looks at his watch. “It’s three in the morning. It can’t wait until we’ve slept?”

  Sadly, I shake my head in a slow, smooth motion. I’ve given him everything he’s asked for since I met back up with him at the hotel after helping the girls. He wanted to catch an early flight home because he was done with work, so I said okay. When I told him I wanted to talk to him, he wanted to wait until we got home, so I said okay. Now, we’re home.

  Now, we talk.

  “Okay.” He heads toward the kitchen. “I might as well make us some coffee, then.”

  I give him this too. If this is what he thinks he needs to get through the conversation we’re about to have, that’s fine.

  When he meets me in our living room with two mugs, I accept one. Then he joins me on the couch, taking up the opposite end. Facing me, he takes a drink of his coffee and sets the mug on the coffee table before putting his hands in his lap.

  After a hard swallow, I begin. “We need to end this,” I say into the quiet of the room. “This can’t keep going like this, and we both need to move on.”

  He presses his lips together and then says, “You mean you need to move on with Aidan, right?”

  “What?” I flinch back. “Why would you think that? This is about us.”

  His nod is slow. “I know it is. But I’m not blind, Veronica.” He isn’t speaking roughly or like he’s upset. It sounds as though he’s known this whole time. “I know you sent him that text back when you found out about what I did. What I don’t know is why he didn’t say anything back to you. Why he didn’t show up at our doorstep, knock the door down, and whisk you away like he’s your personal Prince Charming.”

  I don’t know why he didn’t do those things, either. I wouldn’t have sent him that message if I hadn’t been sure. And I’d been so sure he’d at least respond and help me through it. We were best friends, for crying out loud. The kind of best friends who did nothing apart and confided in each other. The kind who promised to always be there for each other. The kind who fell in love. And we clearly never fell out of it.

  But our timing has never worked. And if what I suspect I’ll hear back from the doctor after my appointment comes true, our timing won’t likely be an issue again. Nothing will ever make this work between us.

  However, I can’t sit around and wonder anymore. I have to do something so I once and for all know what could become of us. Mason doesn’t need to hear that though. And it’s not the only reason why I’m leaving.

  “Can we keep this conversation limited to us?” I grip my coffee cup tighter to steady the shake in my hands. “Aidan isn’t what came between us, Mason, and we both know it.”

  He runs a hand through his short hair and then loosens his tie. “You’re right in a way.” After a few quiet beats, he continues. “But you’re absolutely wrong in another.”

  I don’t dare ask him to elaborate, but he does anyway.

  “This”—he gestures a hand between us—“probably shouldn’t have happened. I accepted that a long time ago, but I’m not an idiot. I knew what I got when you said yes to me. And I don’t want you to doubt my love for you for a second. But living in Aidan’s shadow? Knowing all along that you wanted him first? It finally got to me the night I fucked up.”

  He hangs his head, his chest rising and falling with the breaths he’s trying to keep steady. “It’s no excuse, but I saw that text you sent. The first part of it anyway. And I didn’t know who it was to because I didn’t recognize the number. But it all came crashing down on me when I read that you wanted to leave me. So I did the one thing that I was sure would drive you away.”

  “But it didn’t,” I whisper.

  Regretfully, he shakes his head. “No, it didn’t.” Then he raises it, looking at me again. “You wanted to help me through it because you’re that good and selfless. But you shouldn’t give up your happiness for me or your father or anyone else.”

  A tear slips down my cheek as I realize what he’s saying. What he’s doing. What he’s giving me.

  My freedom.

  And I don’t even need to tell him that it wasn’t his to give me in the first place. That he knows shines from his eyes, which are also clouded over with tears.

  He takes a deep breath and slaps a hand on his knee. “Maybe you needed to hear that from me. Maybe I needed to stop holding you back and stop trying to get you to stay. Because I know your heart, which is probably why I begged in the first place. But I won’t anymore.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “It’s not that I don’t want to, because god knows I became the luckiest man alive when you said yes to me, let alone when you stuck by me. Know that I’m not giving you up easily.”

  “I’d never dream of it after these past few months,” I say with a touch of humor in my voice as I wipe my eyes.

  He gives me a sad, watery smile, which I’m glad we can both share for a moment.

  Then I dive in deeper. I need to let it all out now so the real story is on the table and we regret nothing. “Yes, I’m going back to where Aidan lives. But, no, I’m not running to him.” I run my finger around the rim of my mug and stare at the dark liquid to gather my thoughts. “I need to see if there’s anything there, but I have to wait until I’m ready. I’m definitely not right now. I need to heal, be a whole person on my own, before I even consider another relationship again. That’s how I will know I’m ready to move on. So I’m not leaving you for Aidan. I don’t even know if he—”

  Mason raises a hand in the air, a mirthless smile tipping his lips up. “I’ll stop you right there. We both know how Aidan feels about you.”

  If he hadn’t said what he said in the hotel bathroom, I probably wouldn’t believe Mason. And it’s not like Aidan came out and said he still loves me, but he made something along those lines pretty clear. Still, if he did yesterday, he probably did three months ago when I needed him more than ever. So why didn’t he do anything after that text?

  “But if this is what you need,” Mason says, drawing me back to the present, “I feel like I have to support you. I’ve done everything I can to convince you to stay, and even though I had no right to ask, you did. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think this would happen by taking you to see Aidan.”

  That makes me shoot my head up to look at him. “What does that mean?”

  He draws in a deep breath. “It means I knew what would happen. I went into this knowing I’d probably lose you for good, but I’d lost you already. Maybe a part of me hoped you’d see how Aidan turned out and you’d realize I was always the right choice. But the least I could do after what I did was try to see if you could finally be as happy as you used to be, before Aidan left.” Then he shrugs, his lips curving up despite the sadness in his eyes. “And I got a shiny, new business venture out of it. It’ll keep me busy once you’re gone.”

  At that, I have to smile a little. A tiny laugh escapes my throat as I shake my head. “And here I was, thinking I was being strong and making this decision on my own.”

  “Oh, don’t doubt that for a second, either.” He gazes up at the ceiling, filling his lungs. “I may have given you a push or two, but we both know that you would have stayed until you’d had enough.” After lifting one shoulder and then dropping it, he sighs. “You’ve had enough. So you’re deciding to do something for yourself. I just knew this was coming is all. And, if it means you’ll be happy, then I’m happy for you.”

  A tear finally drips from my eye, contradicting the words coming out of his mouth. The whole image will stick with me as I figure out whatever the hell I’m going to do from here.

  Mason hastily brushes his cheek. “So where are you going to live? What are you going to do there?”

  As I shrug, a smile unexpectedly curves my mouth. “I have no damn clue,” I admit. Which makes me think of my father. “Especially when it comes to my dad.”

  After a sip of his coffee, Mason waves a dismissive hand in my direction. “Let me t
ake care of that.”

  “No,” I immediately tell him. “I can’t let you do that.”

  “You aren’t. I’m insisting. I think he’ll take it better if he hears it from me.”

  When I think about that for a moment, I realize he’s probably right. And, if I’m honest, it feels like the least he could do. I would have done this years ago already if he hadn’t asked me out. Of course, I should have just said no, but I can’t change the past. I can only carve out my future. Which is exactly what I plan on doing.

  I set my mug on the coffee table and scoot over to Mason. “I’m sorry,” I say before hugging him. “This all spiraled so far out of control.”

  He’s tentative as he slips his arms around me too. The way he holds me demonstrates how much he realizes this could be the last time he has the privilege of doing so. “I’m sorry too.”

  When I pull back, I look him in the eyes and stay strong. “So this is it.”

  One corner of his mouth pulls up in a sad half smile. “Yeah. This is it.”

  My heart aches over how much this is hurting him. And for how much he did to push me in the right direction. But that ache is soothed a bit by how right it all feels. And I thank my lucky stars that Mason understands. Though, even if he hadn’t, I’d still go. It’d feel worse, but I’d still leave.

  The pull to Aidan now is just that strong.

  Chapter 11

  Aidan

  Like clockwork, my phone rings at six p.m. on Thursday. I reach for it, knowing it’s my mother. But a part of me still hopes it’s Nic so she can explain why she and my brother seem to have disappeared off the face of the Earth. When they didn’t answer the door of their hotel room, I assumed they were out. But my phone calls to my brother have gone unanswered, and I have no idea what that means.

  Even though my mom won’t shed any light on the situation, I answer.

  “Hey, Mom.” I lean back in my kitchen chair, one arm resting on the table.