Nick shoves his hands in his pockets. His eyes don’t leave mine, but his brow furrows ever so slightly. “I’m just glad my mom was able to help.”
“She did. I feel a lot better. She gave me some great tips and some things to think about.”
“Good.” He winks at me and grabs the container of comics. “Well kid, you heard the slave driver. We better get these loaded up.”
“Okay,” Jesse says and he and I file down the stairs behind Nick. “Go say goodbye to Mrs. Turner,” I tell him, and Jesse hurries into the kitchen, with more pep than usual. Although I know he’s had fun today with Nick, I’m sure the plate of cookies waiting inside has something to do with it.
“Nick,” I say, resting my hand on his arm. “I’m sorry for assuming you were an asshole.”
He looks at me with a cocky grin. “Are we talking about high school again?”
“No—yes. The past ten years, actually. I think a part of me wanted you to be a jerk, so I jumped to conclusions.”
His eyes shift from my eyes to my mouth and back again. “Why would you want me to be a jerk, Bethany?” The confusion in his eyes hurts my heart.
“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “Maybe I was scared to let you in again.”
He sets the bin down, never taking his eyes off of me. “And how do you feel about that now?”
“It’s not as scary as I remember,” I admit.
“Good.”
Mrs. Turner and Jesse laugh in the kitchen, and Nick takes a step closer. “I was wondering something,” he says. “Jesse mentioned he wanted to take an equine class but your parents won’t let him.”
“Oh, the equine therapy? Yeah, they’ve sort of been putting it off.” I fudge the truth a little. My dad said no, but my mom is thinking about it.
“I know I’m not a therapist”—he laughs at the thought—“but let me take you guys to the ranch Saturday. He’ll love it out there.”
I know Jesse will love it—he’d be ecstatic—but that’s a bit more intrusion in Sam’s life than I’m sure I’m comfortable with.
“Don’t overthink it,” he urges. “Just say yes.”
In that moment, I know my heart is in the most danger it’s ever been in. I suddenly can’t say no to him. “Okay. Sure. What about shopping for Sam’s décor?”
“Darn, I guess we’ll just have to reschedule.”
Twenty-Eight
Nick
After Bethany and Jesse take off, I decide it’s time to talk to my dad. It’s Thursday afternoon, and I know he’s working, so I head to his office. I turn into the Turner and Tillman Design and Development parking lot and pull up next to my dad’s Tundra. The distance between us has happened so gradually and quickly at the same time, I’m not sure I noticed it until recently. First, blowing off my final project, then missing dinners and our breakfast . . . it’s like he doesn’t want me to be an architect anymore, or maybe he doesn’t want to be an architect. I’m not sure if he’s planning on selling the company, or if maybe he’s rethinking life decisions and doesn’t want me to walk down the same path, but it’s time to find out.
I step out of the Explorer and head toward the entrance. The fact of the matter is, I need my dad right now. I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do once I graduate, now that my plan to work with him is all but dust in the wind.
As soon as I step inside, I see a few familiar faces, and the sound of ringing phones and muffled conversations fill my ears. It’s more nostalgic than I’d expected. I used to walk here after school on the days I didn’t have baseball practice. Sometimes Reilly would come with me and we’d hang out while I waited for my dad to finish up. My dad’s enthusiasm and passion for his work seemed almost superhuman and inspiring. Now, he feels more like a stranger.
“Hey, Nick!” Thomas, my dad’s right-hand man, waves me over to him as he packs up his briefcase.
“Hey, Tom.” I shake his hand. “It’s been awhile.”
“Yeah, it has. You look great, kid. You been eating your Wheaties?”
Laughing, I nod and hope I haven’t been eating too many of them. “Something like that.”
With a pat on my back, Tom nods to my dad’s office. “He’s just finishing up a meeting.”
“Hey, thanks.”
“Catch you later, Nick.”
I wave a goodbye, and Tom heads for the door. As I continue toward my dad’s office, I admire his firm. I take in the large, square building, single story with exposed beams in vaulted ceilings. Drafting tables are spread about, milling bodies scattered around. It’s rejuvenating, in a way, and awe-inspiring. The older I get, the more I appreciate the work my dad has put into this place, a new, modern building, nothing like the old historical brick and stone structures in town he remodels for a living.
I smile politely at the employees I’ve never seen before, introducing myself as Hutch’s son, Nick. Some of the staff are busy, others are closing up for the day, and for the first, time I get a sense of how large the company’s grown and it makes sense how busy he’s been. I had no idea. This was his vision. Now it’s his company and responsibility. He built it and made it all happen and I feel hopeful that I might still be a part of that.
My dad’s secretary isn’t at her desk when I get there, so I bypass it. With a quick knock, I open the door to his office, and my heart stops beating. “What the fuck?”
A red-headed woman scrambles to smooth out her clothes, and my dad straightens, but not quick enough. I saw her mouth on his and her fingers wrapped around his tie—his goddamn hand was on her ass.
My stomach curdles, and I clench my hands to fists.
“N—Nick . . .” My dad fumbles out my name and pushes the woman away from him, nearly knocking her over.
She glares at him. “Hey—”
“What the fuck are you doing?” I shout.
“Watch your mouth,” he orders, but I don’t give a shit what he’s saying.
“You’re screwing your secretary?”
“I’m a partner in the firm,” she corrects and tugs down the hem of her shirt again for good measure.
“I don’t care who the hell you are.” I glare at my father. “Is this why you’ve been blowing me off? You didn’t want me to find out?” The guilt slackening his features tells me all I need to know. “I can’t believe this.” I turn for the door.
“Your mother already knows, Nicholas,” he calls after me, as if that makes any difference to me whatsoever, and I stalk through the building. Everyone and everything around me is a blur, and I head straight for my car. My blood is boiling. My heart is hurting. And I have no idea what I’m going to do next.
“Nick!” I can hear my dad behind me, but I don’t stop for him. I fucking hate him. “Nick, stop for a minute.”
“No,” I bite out. Each step against the asphalt is punishing and not nearly quick enough.
“You don’t understand—”
I whirl around to face him. “Are you kidding me right now? You’re fucking around on your wife—on my mother. You are still married, right? Or, is that bullshit too, just like all your late nights, working on big projects, while Mom’s at home, waiting for you.” I’m disgusted even looking at him. “I can’t believe you. You, of all people.” There’s an anger inside of me I’ve never felt before and it burns in my muscles, a searing pain so raw I want to haul off and punch him in his slack-jaw face.
“Nick, things haven’t been right with me and your mother for a long time.”
“Then get a goddamn divorce!”
His eyes light up, like I’ve given him permission to be a decent person. “You’re right, Nick. We should’ve gotten a divorce a while ago.”
“No shit.” I turn and hurry to the Explorer.
“You need to hear the whole story before you do something rash. Nick—we did this for you, don’t you see that?”
I laugh and fling open my car door. “Seriously? I’m not a ten-year-old kid. Don’t put any of this on me.”
“I’m
not trying to, Nick. I’m just telling you the truth. None of this is easy.”
“Yeah, it looked real hard on you a few moments ago.” I climb into my car, barely slamming the driver’s side door shut, before I throw the Explorer into reverse and get the fuck out of here.
I see the woman rush over to my dad in the rearview mirror, her red hair bouncing.
Yeah, life’s been really fucking hard for him.
Twenty-Nine
Bethany
After the last customer leaves the salon, I lock the door and hurry through the night-end, cleaning routine. I toss a load of towels in the washing machine and sterilize all the beds. Anna Marie already set up the spray tanning booth for tomorrow, so all that’s left is a quick register closeout and I’m home free. For the first time in a very long time, I’m actually eager to get home for a reason other than Jesse.
Since talking with Mrs. Turner earlier, all I can think about is the possibility that I might have a learning disability. For some people, it might not be something to get excited about, but for me, it means there’s hope it can get a little easier. It means that I’m not crazy and perhaps I have been studying the best I can. Maybe my dad won’t be so disappointed in me, or maybe it will only solidify how broken he thinks I am.
I’ve thought about it fleetingly over the years—that something could be wrong with me, that is—but so many people struggle with school and on their exams, I never thought about it much more than that. Everything Mrs. Turner said, though, makes so much sense, and now I want to know more. A cup of tea, pajamas, and my laptop sounds like the perfect night to end a really good day.
My phone rings as I shut all the lights off and step out the door. I pray it’s not my parents with some sort of emergency, so I’m pleasantly surprised to see that it’s Anna Marie.
Juggling my purse, my phone, and my clanking keychain, I answer. “Hey, I’m just closing up.” I pause with the key in the lock. “Did you need me to do something before I leave?”
“Hi. No, but you should come down to Lick’s.”
“Uh—I kind of need to get home to do some homework,” I say, fidgeting with the door.
“Trust me, Bethany, you need to get down here . . . Nick is here.”
“Okay, so?” Manhandling my things, I make it to the Rover and toss them all inside.
“He’s not working, Bethany. He’s literally at the bar, drunk, like the drunkest I’ve ever seen him before.”
I start the engine and sit there for a breath. “That seems weird. Is he alone?”
“Yes, he’s alone, and I know it’s weird, that’s why I’m calling you.”
“No Reilly or Mac—no one’s there with him?”
“No, something’s clearly wrong. I thought since you guys are all buddy-buddy now, you should know.”
An unexpected panic takes hold of me. “Yeah. Thanks. I’m on my way.” In all the years I’ve seen Nick at the bar, he’s never been wasted, and I’ve never see him drinking, alone.
As soon as I get to Lick’s, Anna’s outside on her phone. She hangs up when she sees me and smiles. “He’s still in there. I think he’s even flirting with the guys at this point.”
“What?” I know she’s probably joking, but I head straight for the door. “How long has he been here?” I ask over my shoulder.
“I have no idea. I got here an hour ago. Sorry.”
Nodding, I head into the bar. It’s relatively dead, but it’s a Thursday night so I’m not really surprised.
Nick’s at the bar with a water glass in front of him, which is a relief, but when Brady looks at me, his eyes are pinched with worry. Nick’s resting his elbows on the bar, spinning a coaster around and around on the countertop.
“Hey,” I say and sidle up beside him.
When Nick looks at me, his eyes widen. “Hey! Fancy meeting you here.”
I can’t help but smile. “Yeah, I know. What a coincidence.” His eyes are veiled with drink, and I think sadness. His words are a little slurred, and I can tell his happy-go-lucky Nick-ness is forced tonight. “Where’s the crew at?” I ask.
He shrugs and looks back at the Anchor Steam coaster he continues to spin. “Home, I guess. Hey, do you want a shot? All shots are on me tonight.”
Brady gives me the look, as if he even needs to. “No, I’m okay, thanks. I was just heading home. Do you want me to drop you off at your place on my way?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m not ready to go home yet, even though Brady cut me off.” He chuckles to himself. “He’s such an asshole sometimes, but I love ‘em.” He raises his palm. “High-five, dude, for being cool.”
I stifle a laugh as Brady gives Nick a high-five. “Thanks, brother.”
Pulling out the stool, I slide in beside Nick. “You want to tell me what happened?” I ask quietly.
A shit-eating grin parts his lips. “Life,” he says. “But it was my turn anyway.”
“What do you mean? Did something happen after I left your mom’s?”
When I look at Brady, he shrugs and gives us some space. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Ha!” Nick takes a sip of water, his eyes only half open. “Not exactly.” His smile disappears as his thoughts drift, and I want more than anything to say something that might make him feel better, but I know he’s beyond that now.
“Nick,” I say, reaching for him. I rest my hand on his arm and squeeze, hoping he’ll look at me. “Do you want me to call Sam?” Her number is the only one I have, and I know she’d be here in a heartbeat if Nick needed her.
“No. No, don’t call Sam,” he says, adamant, and he shakes his head. “She’s busy.”
“I doubt that. It’s almost eight. She’d love to come hang out with you.”
He shakes his head again. “No,” he repeats. “She’s had enough bullshit to deal with in her life. She doesn’t need mine too—they all have. This—” He peers around the bar. “It was bound to happen, sooner or later. Life’s not perfect, you know,” he tells me, then he laughs. “You already know that.” He stares at my hand on his arm. “Are you flirting with me, Bethany Fairchild? I thought we had a deal.”
“I just want to help, Nick,” I tell him. Whatever happened, he’s more than hurt, he seems to feel guilty, and I have no idea why. “Why don’t you let me take you home. It’s better than stewing in this stinky bar—no offense, Brady.”
He smiles and hands another patron a beer.
“You are flirting with me. Trying to get me in bed, huh?” He laughs at himself again and slides off his stool. “All right. I need to get back to Marilyn and Monroe anyway. I haven’t fed them today.”
I glance up at Brady. “What do I owe—”
“You’re good, don’t worry about it,” he says and waves my question away. He mouths a thank you, and I reach for Nick’s hand to steady him. Instead, he wraps his arm around me and we head out the door.
“You know, Bethany, you and me—we’re a good team. We’re killin’ it on our project. And look, you can even carry me.” He motions like he’s going to jump in my arms, and I nearly have a heart attack.
“Let’s not try that,” I say desperately, bracing my hand on him. “I think I’d hurt us both.”
He just laughs and we make our way out to my car.
Nick’s silent the entire ride home, and at one point I wonder if he’s sleeping. When I pull up to his apartment, though, I realize he’s just staring out the window. His eyelids are drooping, but he’s awake, lost somewhere in his mind.
“We’re home,” I say softly, and shut off the engine.
“I like the sound of that,” he says with a languid smile and opens the door to climb out. Hurrying around the car, I let Nick lean on me, praying for an eventless climb up the stairs. Thankfully, other than his added weight against me, we make our way effortlessly to the front door.
I help Nick with the lock, and the moment we’re inside his apartment, he sighs. It’s cold, like always. “Do you want a fire or do you want your bed
?”
“Is that a proposition?” He tries to waggle his eyebrows, but I can tell his heart isn’t in it anymore. It would seem the fun-loving Nick Turner can’t turn off the charm, even when he’s drunk as a skunk and miserable.
Taking his hand, I lead him into his bedroom. I’ve never been inside it before, but it’s much like I’d expected. An oversized queen bed, dresser, and side tables to match. Perfectly coordinated sheets, drapes, and an accent rug, but his clothes are scattered around the room. I imagine it might mirror whatever is going on in this life right now.
Pulling back the covers, I motion for him to get in. He looks at me, but I’m not sure he really sees me as he starts to undress.
“I’m—uh—gonna get you some water. I’ll be right back.” I head for the kitchen, searching his cabinets for a barf bowl, just in case. I grab some ibuprofen and fill a glass of water. When I’m certain I’ve given him plenty of time to climb into bed, I head back in.
Nick’s already between the sheets, lying on his side with his eyes open. It’s surreal to see him so still and quiet. “Are you thirsty?” I stop beside his bed.
He shakes his head, but I put the glass to his mouth anyway. “Just a few sips, at least.”
Nick doesn’t argue and shuts his eyes as he takes a gulp, then another. I’m not sure I’d be as obedient if I was as drunk as he is.
When he’s finished, he looks at me. “I didn’t feed the fish.”
I set the glass down on his side table. “I’ll feed them for you before I leave.” Smiling, I sit on the bed next to him. “Don’t worry, your guppies are in good hands.”
Told You So_A Saratoga Falls Love Story Page 17