by Addison Fox
“At twelve, I would have agreed with you. But my mom dragged us here on the weekends we didn’t have other activities. Claimed it was her reward for sitting through ball games, school events, and the go-cart races Fender lived for.”
“Her quiet in the storm,” Emma murmured.
“Pretty much. It was a surprise when I realized I actually enjoyed it.”
“You enjoyed the time with her.”
“Quiet has its benefits. So does routine.”
“I suspect the calm and security does, too.”
She expected him to say something—to dodge, or deflect, or just change the subject—so it was a surprise when he reached for her hand. “I don’t talk about it. Or not easily.”
“You don’t have to.” She squeezed his hand. “But know you can tell me.”
They stood there, the quiet expanding between them into a comfortable silence. Whether it was the gentleness of their surroundings or the significance of what they’d shared the night before, she didn’t know. But with his gaze on the horizon, drifting over a small pond that made up one of the garden’s centerpieces, Nick began to talk.
“My mom, the biological one, disappeared when I was a kid. I don’t remember her well, but my father always blamed me for her leaving. Told me I was bad, or she didn’t want to be a mother, or whatever.”
“Nick—”
He squeezed her hand and shifted his gaze to her. He said nothing, but she sensed all he didn’t say—namely, that she needed to let him get through the telling.
“My father was good at mood swings. And blaming his behavior on them. Only the more alcohol and drugs you do, the more wild the swings.”
Emma held her silence, even as pain erupted through her for the small boy who was the recipient of those moods. He was hard to see now, in Nick’s large physicality, but that small boy was there, definitely present, when she stared into his eyes.
Do we ever escape our childhoods?
There was a time she’d believed adulthood was the trap, but like her personal unwillingness to commune with nature, that was her experience, her frame of reference.
Nick’s was vastly different.
“I put up with it, even though it seemed to get worse as I got bigger. It sounds cliché, but there was a nice lady who lived across the hall who was sort of this grandmother figure. She did what she could to shield me and keep me away from him, especially when he went on a bender. She ended up being a key witness in the hearings when Ma wanted to adopt me.”
“And your own family? Grandparents? Aunts or uncles?”
“Not really. My father had done his damage a long time ago, screwing up most of his own relationships, and no one wanted to take us on.” He shrugged. “It just was, you know? I didn’t think about a support system or extended family as even out there somewhere. And old Mrs. Crowder did what she could.”
“But it wasn’t enough?”
“It just was.” Nick squeezed her hand before dropping it. His posture was stiff, his shoulders hunched as his gaze drifted over the expanse of trees before them. “I know that sounds like a cop-out, but I was a kid. I had no voice. No power. And all I focused on was getting through it. He didn’t interfere in my going to school, and that became a sort of escape. And when he cleaned himself up out of a bender, he was okay. He never hit me sober.”
“What was his addiction?”
A hard laugh escaped at that, the discordant notes at odds with the bright, vivid day. “My father is a whatever-I-can-get-my-hands-on sort of addict. He’s not too precious about what he drinks or snorts, but as far as I know, he was never much one for needles.”
Emma wasn’t sure she’d call that much of a victory, but she did suspect it kept Nick’s father away from the death sentence that was heroin.
“When he was clean, he was a good guy. Decent. He’d make sure he went to work, and would pick up odd jobs for extra money. It never lasted, but his promises made me think it would. Each and every time.”
And perhaps that was the worst.
How would a child deal with that? Or an adult, for that matter. How do you look at the world as a series of broken promises and not begin to believe it would never change? Never get better?
“And sports?”
“I was good at them. I was a big kid, and everyone wanted me on the team. The athletic association took pity on me and gave me a scholarship to play peewee football and soccer.”
He turned back to her, his smile gentle even if his gaze was a few decades away. “I took it because I liked sports, and it was another way to stay out of the house and around other people. It was also where I met Landon and Fender. Someone had shoved them both in an after-school soccer program along with me, and we bonded.”
“Brothers from the first.”
A brighter laugh accompanied his smile. Emma saw both and relaxed a fraction.
“Not at first. We were eight, and Fender and I were full of enough piss and vinegar we went a few rounds. Nothing too physical, because neither of us wanted to get kicked out, but we didn’t like each other. We’d battle over the ball, shoving and pushing each other for possession.”
“And Landon?”
“Neither of us paid much attention to the skinny kid who kept to himself.”
The picture he painted was vivid in her mind, three small boys trying so hard to grow up. “How did you all become friends?”
“Turns out the skinny, scrawny kid could run. We were practicing after school one afternoon, and Fender and I were doing one of our push-and-shove battles over the ball. Landon squeezed right in and stole the ball, and took it all the way downfield.”
“Crafty.”
“Bastard always has been. He’s far smoother than those size thirteen feet suggest. But there was something in the way he sat on the bench after practice, all by himself.” Nick shrugged. “I don’t know why, but I went over to him. Talked to him, and we were inseparable from that moment.”
“And Fender?”
“We used Landon’s Borg techniques. The following practice, we sort of assumed him up as ours. When he protested, we just sort of made him join in. And that was all it took.”
“Brothers.” The thought struck her once more. Yes, Louisa Mills had made them a family, but the boys had already found family in each other. Had created their own sense of belonging and security. Louisa had formalized it. Cemented it. And made it something safe and protected.
But they’d begun the circle of family all on their own.
There was one question she’d carried since high school. Despite all Nick had shared, she wasn’t sure if she should ask. Yet it seemed unfair not to take the risk. “Why didn’t you change your last name? None of you did.”
“We made a pact.”
“Oh?”
“We were fosters first. A part of the process before Mom could adopt us all.”
It seemed wrong that something so right and good required such bureaucracy, but sadly it did. “Nothing like process and paperwork.”
“It does make the world go ’round.” When she only raised an eyebrow, he continued. “But it was a process, and it happened differently for each of us. We all still had parents, even if those relationships weren’t what they should be.”
“Yet Louisa took it on.”
“Every last bit of it. And neighborhood opinion, too. Most people agreed with her, but there were a few who thought a single woman didn’t have a right to the three of us. Our families fought it, too.”
There were a lot of things people thought single women shouldn’t do, Emma mused. Hadn’t her father been drumming that into her for the past few months? But she picked up on Nick’s last comment instead. “How’d Louisa end up with custody?”
“Social services had their eye on me for a long time, and my father finally took one swing too many. It came on the heels of two other publicly documented cases, and was enough to win the judge to Ma’s side.”
When he stopped abruptly, she sensed there was more to the st
ory, but opted to give him his privacy.
“She’s quite a woman.”
“That she is. She pushed and pushed and pushed until she got what she wanted. And refused to let us think that we didn’t deserve the next step, or the safety she could provide.” Nick took Emma’s hands, pulling her close. “Somewhere in the process, we had the chance to take her last name, but we all decided our names were the one thing we should keep.”
“A memorial?”
“A reminder of where we came from. A connection to our roots.” A light breeze ruffled his hair, tousling the short strands. “I don’t know, it just seemed important.”
Once again, the idea of Nick Kelley as fantasy shattered under the realities of his life. It was so easy to look at him now, an accomplished athlete, a business owner, and a virile, attractive man, and miss what had shaped him.
Miss where he’d come from.
But fantasies weren’t real life. They were the perceptions humans carried about one another that had no basis in reality. She was humbled that he’d shared his reality with her.
“I don’t remember you from grade school,” Nick said, interrupting her musings.
“I wasn’t there. My parents had me in private school until high school.”
“So you were one of the uniformed schoolgirls we used to point at from the soccer field.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“I bet you looked cute in a uniform.”
“I was geeky and awkward, with a mouth full of braces.”
Nick moved in closer and bent his head, his lips whispering across hers. “An investment that paid off.”
“Then I’ll consider myself grateful for three years of teeth-moving torture.”
Nick hovered there, his lips brushing hers, yet not quite taking the kiss. “I’m glad I told you about my dad.”
“I’m glad you told me, too.”
She closed that narrow gap and took his mouth with her own. Easy and slow, their tongues met, the kiss as warm and comforting as it was erotic. Nick’s arms came around her and she settled her hands at his hips, the moment more precious than she ever could have imagined.
The night before had been a dream, one she’d carry with her forever. But his willingness to share where he came from—to trust her with what he’d overcome—seemed even more monumental than the physical.
It felt like everything.
Chapter Sixteen
The End Zone rocked a Saturday night crowd. That was all Emma could think as she watched half the neighborhood filter in and out of the bar. Young and old were crowded in together, some at the bar, others at tables, and still others clustered around the pool tables in the back room.
The bar was full, the crowd happy, and it warmed her to know that Nick had created this.
It was also fascinating to see the other side of her profession. She had always understood the responsibility that came with producing alcoholic beverages. No matter how they managed their product—including access to it—there were those who abused liquor.
Nick bore the scars of that abuse. He’d survived a childhood with an addict, yet he was still able to provide a place of enjoyment, where others could let off steam, get to know one another, and further bond the relationships they already had.
She was proud of him.
One of his waitresses rang a thick bell over the bar and a round of shouts went up, people at tables adding their cheers to those from the three-deep crowd around the bar. Yep, there was no doubt about it—Nick Kelley had to be the most popular proprietor in Park Heights.
As she watched him work the bar, she understood why. There was something innately likeable about him, even as he gave the very real sense of being fully in control.
“You enjoying the quarterback show?”
A rush of heat filled her cheeks as Tommy’s voice drifted toward her. He and his wife, Olivia, had joined them for the evening, along with Landon and a few people from his office. Yet again, Landon’s comment about assuming her into their social group struck a chord. Only instead of considering resistance, she couldn’t hold back how nice it felt to spend some time with a group of people her own age.
She and Cole had been part of a nice-sized social circle in Chicago, but their friends had drifted after their separation, and the invitations to events had dried up.
“Quarterback show?” She took a sip of her water to cool the heat.
“It’s impressive, the way he manages that bar. Everyone knows he’s seen them, yet they wait their turn for their drinks.”
“Some people are gifted multitaskers.”
“There’s good and then there’s Nick. The man can read a room faster than a cop.”
“I’m sure that’s one of the many reasons this place is such a big success.” It might be polite conversation, but Emma meant every word. Nick’s work ethic was impressive, his focus on his goals even more so. It made the situation she found herself in that much more challenging.
She cared for him.
The past two days had been beyond her wildest dreams. While she didn’t expect love as a precursor to having sex, she knew herself well enough to know a basic and genuine affection was important to her. What she hadn’t expected to find were the various facets of Nick that weren’t readily apparent.
His story of his childhood still touched her, but other things—small moments—left as big an impact. He’d taken the time to sign autographs and talk to a group of teenage boys the day before at the botanical gardens. That morning, on a walk through the neighborhood, he’d purchased a cup of coffee for an older woman behind them in line at the coffee house. And she even saw it in the easy way he talked to his staff, asking about their families or their plans, sharing moments with them.
“You pleased with this week’s outcome?” Tommy snatched some fries from the plate in front of her.
Under normal circumstances, coming from Nick’s lawyer, the question could be seen as an enemy attack, but she’d known Tommy Santola far too long. He might have developed a killer reputation in real estate, but he still bore the marks of the most well-liked kid in her class. He also had the rare ability to separate business from life.
“Sure.” Her gaze drifted to Nick before snapping fully back to Tommy. “I mean, I’d like the time to prove to my father that I’m competent, so I’m grateful we’ve delayed the sale.”
“What if your father changes his mind? Goes in your favor no matter the outcome of the deal?” Tommy must have sensed her shock because he winked at her. “You don’t think this should go easy on Nick, do you?”
Since Tommy’s comments were practically a match to what Nick’s mother had said, Emma had to wonder why no one in Nick’s life was all that supportive. Yes, she wanted the Unity. Wanted to be able to convince her father that she’d earned her place in the family business. It was tempting to think he’d change his mind in her favor, keeping the brewery in their family because it was the right thing to do.
But she’d made a deal with Nick. In one week’s time she’d already seen his determination, and how hard he worked to learn and understand the business. Could she take that away? Go along with a new whim of her father’s that would be as painful to another person as his initial reaction had been to her? It stirred in her an odd sort of sympathy for Nick and his position. “Well, yeah. As his representative, I figured that would be your goal.”
“He’s also my friend, so I take his interests seriously. But I know this is important to you, and your father hasn’t done you any favors.”
“No, I guess not.”
“So enjoy the summer. For what it’s worth, the Unity is a great investment, no matter which way the chips fall.”
“Baby, enough with the work talk.” Olivia waved a hand at her husband. “We got lucky tonight and got my mom to babysit. Why spend it talking about return on investment and up-and-coming neighborhoods?”
“Job hazard?” Emma teased Tommy.
Olivia jumped out of her seat and kissed the top of To
mmy’s head before coming around to squeeze into the chair on Emma’s other side. “A Tommy hazard is more like it.”
“He’s good at what he does.”
“He is that.” Olivia shot her husband a fond look. “But let’s get to the good stuff. I want to know what’s going on with you and Nick.”
“Nothing, really,” Emma said, then she stopped herself. They might not have fully defined what they were doing together, but they weren’t exactly distant strangers, either. “Well, I mean, we’ve gone on a few dates.”
“That’s good. Because if you hadn’t, I’d tell you to hop to it like a bunny. The way that man keeps looking at you from the bar.” Olivia waved a hand in front of her face. “It’s hot.”
Emma looked despite herself, and got a broad grin and a hot, blue-eyed stare for her efforts. As warmth flooded her cheeks once more, Nick’s grin grew broader, and she could have sworn she felt his stare mark her with some sort of brand.
Where had this come from?
A little over a week ago she’d sat in this same bar, miserable with her life and her future prospects. Now she was sleeping with Nick, and joining a group of friends for the evening.
What a difference a day makes.
Her mother had used that phrase to support any number of situations. Sadly, Emma had too often equated it with something negative, but with Nick’s gaze still upon her, it was easier to see the hope in her mother’s comment.
Life changed every day.
And sometimes it changed for the better.
Nick dragged the last bag of trash out the back door while the crowd inside was still going strong. He’d promised Emma he wouldn’t work past eleven, but a big party had come in, and he couldn’t leave the team on their own. She’d waved at him from the table, acknowledging the crowd, and had gone back to whatever had her and Olivia giggling for the past hour.
Something about the moment had him grinning, the big smile on her face and the laughter he’d catch every so often from the bar warming his heart. She looked happy. Relaxed. And a part of something.