“This way…” Blythe led him through the walkway from the garage past the park fountain. “Oh my God!”
Calvin sat slumped at the foot of the Parc Putnam stage, his shirt torn open and his face a mess of black and red. Nate froze as he tried to make sense of what he saw. As he looked closer, the black stains on Calvin’s skin morphed into words. Words of hate.
Fag. Freak. Perv.
Blythe’s brother hadn’t been in a fight. He’d been beaten. Bruising around his left eye already matched the color and fullness of a red plum. His bottom lip was split, spilling blood down his chin, staining the front of his tattered shirt. Calvin hunched over himself, cradling his ribs, which Nate somehow knew bore the toe marks of boots.
“Oh Calvin…” Blythe sunk down to her knees and cupped her brother’s face in her hands. “We have to get you to a hospital!”
Calvin jerked his head back and forth.
“No. No, we don’t.” His words came out through clenched teeth. “I’ll be okay.”
“Cal, you are definitely not okay. You need X-rays and maybe even a cat scan.” Blythe lifted a thumb to the impossible bulge that should have been an eyebrow. Calvin sucked in his breath and pulled away. “And we should call the police—”
“No! No hospital. No police. We’ve got to deal with this ourselves. Please, Blythe… I need you to help me.” He pleaded with his sister. “No one can know.”
Blythe’s eyes bugged.
“No one can know?! Calvin, you can’t hide this!” At her words, Calvin’s eyes tilted up, and he seemed to take in Nate for the first time. The look they held made Nate feel like an intruder.
“Why is he here, Blythe? He can’t tell anyone.” Panic edged his voice, and he hit Nate with accusation in his eyes. “You can’t tell anyone!”
Nate was already shaking his head, but Blythe spoke before he could.
“He’s here to help you, just like I am,” she defended. “How do you think I got here so fast without a car?” But Calvin hadn’t taken his eyes off Nate.
“You can’t tell anyone,” he repeated.
Nate stepped closer.
“I won’t tell anyone,” he vowed. Calvin blinked up at him, still suspicious.
“Nate’s a friend, Cal,” Blythe reassured softly. Her claiming of him sent a thrill down the front of his chest, but he pushed the sensation aside. This was hardly the time. Nate reached a hand down to Blythe’s brother.
“Can you walk?”
Calvin made a face and tried to get to his feet on his own, but a wince and a hiss of breath made Blythe shoot forward and grab his elbow. Nate took him by the other, and they both helped Calvin to stand.
Blythe’s eyes found his.
“Can we take him to your house? I’m sorry for asking, but I don’t even have a box of Band-Aids at—”
“Of course.” Of course, they could go to his house. Nate wanted them to go to his house. He didn’t want Calvin to be hurt — in fact, he wanted to pummel whoever had done this — but he was glad to be the one to help Blythe and her brother.
Calvin didn’t agree.
“Seriously?” Calvin looked at his sister in disgust, and Nate was surprised when he saw Blythe’s eyes harden.
“We could always take you home. Mom and Dad have a great first aid kit.” Calvin’s disgust quickly changed to horror.
“No. No. I’m sorry. Thank you, Nate,” he stammered.
“I’m glad to do it. C’mon. Let’s get you to my truck.”
The walk to the truck was slow, but getting Calvin into the back seat was even slower. The kid had to have at least one broken rib. A deep-seated anger began to simmer within Nate.
“Jesus, Cal, who did this to you?” The question was out before he could stop it, and he knew he shouldn’t have asked the moment it left his lips. Calvin immediately shut down, his eyes snapping to the floor of the truck, his body curling back into a huddle.
“I don’t know,” he said flatly.
Nate’s gaze swung to Blythe, and he caught the tight shake of her head. Whatever had happened, she knew more about it than he did. He let the subject drop, stepping back from the cab where Blythe fussed over her brother. Nate climbed into the front seat and started the engine. When he looked back in the rear view mirror, Calvin had his head on his sister’s shoulder, and she was whispering into his ear.
She looked so calm. So capable of handling this nightmare. It wasn’t the first time he’d recognized that she was good in a crisis. He thought about her life over the last several months. It had been nothing but one crisis after another. And she’d adapted. She’d done exactly what she needed to do to survive. To recoup. To move on.
I was so wrong about her.
The thought wasn’t free of bitterness. Nate knew that he’d once underestimated what Blythe could sustain. What she would put up with. What she would choose. Six years ago, he thought she couldn’t have meant it when she said that she could accept a long distance relationship for the long term. That she could accept being saddled with him and his problems. Looking at her now, he understood that Blythe probably was better at handling hardship than anyone he knew.
She was certainly better at it than he was.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?” BLYTHE WHISPERED, examining the abrasions around his left eye that had almost swollen shut. Nate had left them in his bathroom to find Calvin some clean clothes, and she knew this was her only chance to get the facts.
“It’s my fault,” Calvin said, looking ashamed and disgusted. “I have a Tumblr account.” He said it as if the admission cleared up everything.
“And?”
Calvin’s eyes searched hers, and she knew he was afraid she’d scold him.
“I just want to know, Cal. I just want to understand.”
Calvin sighed.
“I have an account — with an anonymous handle — where I can… explore who I am.”
Blythe got that. It made sense that he would search for an outlet. A place where he could be open. That didn’t explain why he now stood before her beaten almost beyond recognition.
“And?” she prompted again.
“And I thought I’d met someone… like me… who lived in town. She said her name was Cameryn. We talked for a while, and I thought she was someone who understood me.” Calvin’s eyes filled with tears. “We were going to meet tonight at Parc San Souci. I told her what I’d be wearing. What I looked like… And I went and waited… I waited for like an hour.”
His voice became angry then, and the look in his eyes held a hatred she’d never seen.
“I’d noticed the three guys hanging out across the fountain, but none of them matched her description, so I ignored them. When I gave up and walked away, they followed me.” He clenched his teeth, and Blythe could see that the anger was all he had to soothe the heartbreak. “It was them the whole time. Cameryn never existed. They played me. They played me to do this.”
He gestured to his face, covered in bruises, blood, and ugly words.
“Oh, Calvin.” When he broke down and sagged against her, Blythe caught him and tried to steady his shaking frame. But he wasn’t her baby brother anymore. She had to brace herself to keep them from toppling over, and still he wept in her arms like a child. It killed her.
“I’ll be alone forever, Blythe,” he sobbed into her hair. “I can’t trust anyone after this.”
“Shh. That’s not true,” she promised, stroking a hand lightly down his back, hoping she wouldn’t graze one of his many wounds. Hoping she was telling him the truth. “I know it seems that way now, but that’s not true. These people were criminals, Calvin. Criminals. What they did is a hate crime. It’s awful, and it’s wrong, but you are stronger than they are.”
“No, I’m not,” he cried. “I hate this. I hate what I am. I don’t see how this will ever get better.”
She pulled back to look him in the eye. His words terrified her.
“Don’t you dare talk like that, Calvi
n,” she warned. “It will get better. But if you don’t stick around to find out, I swear, I will never forgive you!”
Calvin swiped his wrist across his good eye and sniffed.
“I don’t mean that, Blythe. I’m not thinking about offing myself or anything.”
“Good. You’d better not be.” Her own voice broke at the thought, and she swallowed the emotion and tried to find a way out of the moment. “You can’t leave me alone with Seth. The Barnes Family doesn’t make sense without you.”
Calvin gave a weak laugh.
“I guess you’re right.”
Blythe looked over her shoulder, expecting Nate back any second, but he wasn’t hovering in the doorway. Instead, he’d set a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt on the floor outside the bathroom. He must have come back, seen them, and wanted to give them room. With a sigh of gratitude, Blythe scooped up the bundle of clothes and set them on the bathroom counter.
“Take a shower. Wash off all those cuts and bruises, and we’ll see how much of the ink comes off,” she instructed. “Then when you’re clean, we’ll do what we can about the rest.”
Calvin shook his head.
“I’ll shower, but they used a Sharpie. I’m fucked.”
Blythe felt her jaw set. What she wouldn’t give for the names of the guys who did this — and a baseball bat.
“We’ll figure something out. Text mom and tell her that you’re crashing with me. We’ll come up with a story for tomorrow.”
She left him in the bathroom and went in search of Nate. She found him in his small den, arranging wood in the fireplace. Blythe stopped in her tracks to watch him for a moment. What would she have done without him tonight? The situation was bad enough, but it could have been a whole lot worse. Just having him by her side when they found Calvin in a bloody heap made her feel stronger — able, at least, to deal with the worst thing she’d ever seen.
Nate must have felt her watching, because he turned, still holding a log in his hands. “I thought a fire might be soothing,” he said with a shrug.
Blythe stepped down into the room and let herself sink into the couch that faced the fireplace.
“Thank you. You’re right. It will be.”
He turned back to his work, building a little teepee of logs, kindling, and newspaper shreds.
“How’s Calvin?” he asked quietly. Blythe breathed out a heavy sigh.
“He’s… traumatized. Understandably.”
Nate looked back at her, and she saw a coldness in his eyes she didn’t recognize.
“Did he tell you who did this?” The coldness penetrated his voice, too, and Blythe found herself taken aback. She had only ever seen him as gentle — impossibly gentle — but with his height and his breadth and that look in his eyes, he could be menacing.
“I don’t think he knows who they were,” she said honestly.
Nate gave a tight nod.
“That’s probably a good thing.” Anger was sharp in his voice. “They wouldn’t be safe if he did.”
To her surprise, Blythe believed him, and her belief made her smile.
“Well, I’m glad it won’t come to that, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
Nate worked his jaw, seeming to weigh his words. “I hate bullies,” he said bitterly. “And two against one is so chicken shit.”
“Calvin said there were three…”
“Mother fuckers!” Nate spat. Blythe watched as he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. It was only then that she remembered some of his stories from high school. Blythe got up from the couch and stood in front of him. She placed her hands over his and pulled them away from his eyes. He looked anguished and helpless, and she wanted to remind him that this time he hadn’t been the victim. He’d been the hero.
“Thank you. You saved us tonight. You saved him, and that means you saved me.” She held his hands between them, clasped against her heart, and she could see her words begin to have the desired effect. Nate’s eyes softened from pain to doubt.
“I didn’t do anything.”
Blythe reeled back in shock.
“The hell you didn’t. You drove me to get him. You helped me move him to the truck. You offered your home. We’re a lot better off than we would have been alone.”
Nate blinked, neither accepting nor denying her words.
“You’re both welcome to stay the night,” he offered. “Calvin can have the spare room. You can take my room, and I’ll sleep in here.”
Blythe wasn’t inclined to turn him down. Getting Calvin up the stairs to her apartment would have been enough of an obstacle. He’d be more comfortable here, and Blythe found that she didn’t particularly like the idea of leaving either.
“We’ll stay, but I’ll sleep out here.”
Nate’s eyebrows drew together in a frown and the anguished look was back. He squeezed her hands and looked into her eyes for a long moment.
“I’d do anything for you… Do you know that?”
His searching eyes seemed to beg for her to understand, and in that moment, she did. She understood that he would do anything for her. He already had. He’d rescued her from a thunderstorm. He’d moved her into her apartment. He’d helped her rush to Calvin’s aid.
Of course, she was a grown woman who could survive a storm, move into a new place, and get from point A to point B on her own — eventually — but the fact that Nate had wanted to be there for her made all the difference. It made life… good.
In the back of her mind, she knew there were reasons she shouldn’t be reaching up to his face and running her thumbs over the smooth-shaven plane of his cheeks. Or pulling him down until his eyes were even with hers. Or finding the heat of his mouth with her own, but those reasons got lost the moment Nate’s arms wrapped around her. He pulled her against him with such ardor her feet almost left the ground.
At once, he drove the kiss. Somewhere in the ecstasy of it, Blythe understood that he’d only needed — as he said — to know that she wanted it. And, God, she wanted it! It felt like all of heaven pressed against her mouth, along her chest, and down the front of her thighs. He felt so good tears came to her eyes.
Her mouth opened to his tongue, and she remembered the hungry, intimate joy of it as it danced with hers. She ran her fingers into his hair, and hums of pleasure and need and longing came from his throat. Blythe answered them with her own.
Her tongue wanted to venture into his mouth, to be welcomed back into him, and —
“Blythe? The ink didn’t come off!” Calvin shouted across the house, breaking the seal of their mouths.
Blythe would have pulled away, afraid of Calvin coming in, but Nate drew her closer and buried his face in her neck. An instant later, she realized he was laughing.
“Six years without you, and one of your brothers still interrupts.” His words and the tickle of his breath on her neck sent her into a fit of giggles.
“Mmmm.” He placed kisses along her neck, and the giggles dried up.
“I-I need to go take care of him…” Blythe pushed against his chest, and Nate released her at once. Too quickly, in fact. As if she’d scolded him.
“Sorry, I—”
“No,” she whispered, stepping into him again and touching his face. “It’s not like that…”
He put his hand over hers, drew it to his lips, and kissed it.
“Okay. Go. I’ll be right there to help.”
Blythe nodded and pulled herself away. Her face flamed, and she couldn’t feel the bottoms of her feet. But as she headed down the hall towards Calvin, it felt like everything in the world that was wrong could be made right.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CALVIN WAS STRETCHED OUT ON THE couch in front of the fireplace watching Saturday Night Live! He had one ice pack over his eye and another across his left ribs, and Nate thought his face looked raw from all the scrubbing.
Nate sat on the floor and held Blythe’s hand like she’d slip away forever if he didn’t. He’d offered her the only other piece
of furniture in the room, his recliner, but she’d refused to take it from him, sitting on the floor near the couch instead. So Nate had sunk down next to her, and when she’d reached for his hand, some of his anxiety drained away.
Returning to Blythe’s kiss had resurrected something inside him. It wasn’t just the reminder of how kissing her was like becoming one with joy. Or how when she kissed back, he felt honored. It was the return of possibility. The possibility that he could be wildly happy for the rest of his life.
That taste of happiness was such a contrast to what he’d lived for six years that it scared him. What if it all fell apart again? What if this possibility was only a tease? What if it wasn’t the same for her? These thoughts started hounding him the moment Blythe left his arms to take care of her brother.
Nate’s worries scattered when Calvin snickered at the “GoProbe” skit. That was something. He knew Calvin probably couldn’t go ten seconds without thinking about what he’d been through, but at least he could relax now. After Nate had made up the couch with blankets and pillows, he’d found Blythe and Calvin still in the bathroom, trying to erase the ink from his face.
Blythe had Googled remedies to remove Sharpie ink, first trying rubbing alcohol. Then sugar. Then olive oil. Calvin was willing to try the Tide with Bleach and steel wool, but Blythe refused. The words on his face had all but disappeared, leaving only a faint shadow of the lettering, but Blythe insisted that Calvin needed to take a break and ice his injuries.
She and Nate had both checked his pupils for concussion, and when Nate casually mentioned that he’d had his ass kicked twice in high school just because he wasn’t like everyone else at STM, Calvin seemed to perk up.
When Kenan Thompson opened the next skit, Blythe gave a spectacular yawn.
“You should go get in bed,” he whispered. “You’ve got to be exhausted.”
Sleepy-eyed, Blythe shook her head.
Nate responded by getting to his feet. “C’mon. He’s safe. You might as well get some rest.”
At this, Calvin cocked his head back and met his sister’s gaze. “Yeah, I’m good here. Y’all go to bed. I’ll call your cell if I need something.”
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