by Law, Kim
“I swear, if that’s you again, Nate Wilde . . .”
“You’ll do what?” came the voice from the dark.
Irritation and giddiness slid into relief, and she wanted to tell him that she was glad he was there.
She didn’t, though.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said.
And she wouldn’t answer his question. Instead, she found herself suddenly unsure of what to do. Why was he there? And could she be trusted to behave if she got close to him again?
She turned her head to block the light from being in her eyes, and she remained silent.
“I heard you were seen out on a date with someone last week,” Nate said, and then the creak of the rocking chair started up.
Seriously? He was there to pester her about dating again? “Which night?” she tossed back, and he let out a rough chuckle.
“Friday, I suppose. Arsula mentioned it to me at the house last Saturday.”
At the news of Arsula discussing her dating status, Megan recalled her quickly fabricated explanation while standing in the middle of the road the day of the mimosas. Arsula had overheard Brooke mention Nate and had immediately zeroed in on the possibility of there being more to the story, at which time Megan explained that Brooke had only been talking about a supposed disagreement in their discussion of cabin plans. She’d sworn to the other woman there wasn’t a thing more going on between them, and she’d thought she’d convinced Arsula she’d been telling the truth. But if that were the case, then why would Arsula have mentioned seeing her out on a date to Nate?
“So you’re big friends with Arsula these days?” she prodded. Nate and Arsula had had a rough start due to him being an initial nonbeliever in the power of her gift.
“She’s going to be my sister-in-law,” he explained. “No need having discourse where there doesn’t need to be any.”
It seemed like a made-up excuse to her. “And in the name of civility, you two talk about me?”
The light in her face turned off, and she saw nothing but black spots.
He didn’t say anything else for a moment, and once her vision cleared, she could make out the silhouette of his body sitting in her chair.
“What did you mean about earning points if you took that job in Chicago?” he asked, and she couldn’t have been more surprised at the question.
“Where did that question come from?”
“It’s what I should have asked instead of kissing you the last time I was here. So, I’m asking it now. What did you mean?”
“I didn’t mean anything.”
Her heart rate picked up, and she looked at her front door and considered going inside, leaving him out there alone to do as he pleased. She suspected he might try to follow, though. And she certainly didn’t want him in her place again.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then will you sit down out here and talk to me?”
She had another chair on the porch, and she could sit down. And it shouldn’t matter if she did.
But her flight-or-fight response had kicked in, and she didn’t know if it would be safe to stay.
“Was that your father on the phone at the house that day?”
At his pushing of all her buttons, she let out an unladylike snort. She dropped into the other seat. “Fine. You win,” she grumbled. “I’ll sit. But I don’t want to talk about my family.”
“Why not?”
“Because I just don’t want to. I never talk about them.”
“You did the other night. You told me that your father rarely visits, that your mother and next oldest sister live in Boston, and that—”
“Your point is made, Wilde. I rarely talk about them. And I shouldn’t have the other night.”
“When did your parents divorce?”
“Why are you doing this? And for that matter, why are you even here? I assume you parked down the street again.” She smirked.
He leaned forward, coming partially up out of the chair, only to lift the rocker by the arms and put it down again once he’d turned it so he could face her. “I’m doing this because I’m your friend.”
Of course that was all he wanted from her.
“And I’m here because I might want to be more.”
At that, she considered turning on her own pen light just so she could see his face. “What did you say?”
“Maybe,” he cautioned. “But I would like to talk about the possibility.”
He wanted to talk about the possibility of them being more?
How much more?
* * *
Nate watched Megan from his position in his chair, and though her face remained partially in the dark, light from up the street cast enough of a glow into her yard that he could see the shell-shocked look on her face. He’d caught her off guard.
“Is that something you’d be willing to talk about?” he asked. The last time he’d been here, she’d said that she was okay with what had happened between them. That she’d be okay with more. And that had gotten him to thinking.
“It depends,” she responded.
“Okay. What does it depend on?”
“Are we talking about a one-night stand?”
The mere idea of talking about more terrified him. He didn’t know what he could possibly do with more. But a one-night stand wasn’t why he was here. He was here because he’d watched his father and Gloria all week. And he’d watched his siblings with his dad. And his siblings with their spouses. And with their kids. He’d really watched . . . and he’d admitted that he wanted for himself the kind of love they all shared.
He had zero reason to believe he could pull it off. And even less chance of thinking that he deserved it. But he wanted it, all the same.
And he wanted to consider giving it a shot with Megan.
There was still the issue that she was Jaden’s ex, but he couldn’t get the woman out of his mind. And the more she ignored him—and he ignored her—the more he wanted her. So, what he had to figure out first was if he wanted her only because he couldn’t have her.
If that was the case, then the deal was off. He would never do that to her or to Jaden.
But if he wanted her because he couldn’t stop thinking about her and dreaming about her and having the urge to beat to a pulp every single man who got the opportunity to ever spend any time with her, then he wanted to see what this was. Could it be something like so many of his family members had found?
Could it be something that didn’t hurt in the end?
“Not a one-night stand,” he clarified. “That isn’t an option.”
She slowly nodded. “Then I’m willing to talk about it.”
Relief rushed through him at her words, and he realized that he’d feared she would turn him away before he could even say that much. “Then my theory for figuring out if we should attempt to be more is to get to know each other a little better first.” He scooted the rocker even closer, so that their knees now bumped. “To share personal things with each other.”
“Personal things?” She stared back at him. “Like my family history?”
“Or mine?” he suggested, and she nodded at that.
“You go first,” she said, and at her request, he laughed. Not the nervous chuckle he’d squeaked out earlier when she’d implied she’d gone out on so many dates over the last two weeks that he needed to narrow them all down by the week, the night—and possibly the time. This laugh was filled with relief and joy and the first ever inkling to the possibility of a brighter future all rolled into one. And it felt good to feel all those things.
“Can I scoot my chair around to sit closer to you?” he asked before starting any deep conversation.
“You’re practically in my lap already,” she pointed out.
“Then maybe you should be in my lap,” he suggested, but before she could respond, he held up both hands. “Sorry. I retract that. We aren’t there yet, nor have we decided if we even want to go there.” He reach
ed over and grazed his knuckles over the back of her hand. “But I would really like to sit beside you while we talk . . . if that’s okay with you. Or maybe even go into the house?”
Her gaze darted to the home on the other side of the street, and he knew she was thinking similarly to him. Would Gabe and Erica happen to look out any windows and see them over here? Or step outside with the dog and hear them talking?
It was nearly midnight, so likely not. But it was also chilly outside. He didn’t want her getting too cold.
He’d do whatever she wanted, though. He didn’t want to push, and he didn’t want to be pushed away. So, he waited for her reply.
In the end, they stayed on the porch. But she did let him move his chair so that it sat directly beside hers, and she let him drape his coat over her lap. He smiled at the improvements that had already happened in their relationship and fought the urge to reach over and take her hand.
“My family history,” he started.
She shot him a sideways look. “I already know a lot of it, so skip the generic parts.”
God, he could fall for this woman. She wouldn’t allow him to get away with anything. “Got it. My family history,” he started again, “the ungeneric parts.”
She elbowed him in the arm.
He smiled again.
“How about mine and my mother’s relationship?” he asked, and when she nodded, her expression going solemn, he laid it out for her in the barest format. “It’s simple. I hated her.”
“Nate.” She half turned in her seat, and he was close enough now that he could make out each dip and curve of her features.
“It’s no biggie,” he told her. “She hated me, too.”
“I know she didn’t have the capacity to care like most mothers.”
“She was a selfish narcissistic witch whose sole purpose in this world was to make sure a light was always shined on her every minute of every day, and to see to it that everyone else’s life was complete misery. And she excelled at both of those things.”
“Okay,” she said, the word coming out slow. “That’s more blunt than my version, but I know all of that, too. I just hate that any child would feel that way toward a parent.”
“Me too. But my first memories of her are hate. And of that feeling going both ways.”
At that, she took his hand instead of him taking hers, and she laced their fingers together.
“And the funny thing is,” he went on, his heart now thumping erratically in his chest, “she always told Nick that she loved me more than him.”
Megan watched him in the dark.
“I heard her tell him that on more than one occasion. It didn’t make sense at the time, because I knew she didn’t love me. And there’s no way to love a person more when there was no love to begin with. But still . . . she was dead before I bothered to tell my own twin that she’d been lying to him all that time. That she’d hated me as much as I’d hated her.”
Her fingers squeezed around his. “What was your life with her like? Did you mostly avoid her?”
“As much as I could. But it didn’t matter if I was in her sights or not. Everything that went wrong in our family ended up being my fault. She would seek me out just to make sure I knew it. Her car didn’t start one morning . . . I’d ridden in it with Gabe the day before, and clearly, my bad aura messed it up. One summer’s worth of cherries she’d brought into the house got eaten by my dog, and that’s because I’d stayed at a friend’s house too long.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What were you doing at your friend’s house?”
“Not being around Mom mostly.” He shook his head, trying to slough off the sarcasm, and thought back to that day. “It had been a really good day,” he explained. “Nick and I both got invited. It was with a kid we went to school with, but since it was summertime, school was out. We’d just finished harvesting the cherries for the season, and we spent the entire day with our friend and his mother at a nearby water park. We ended up staying for dinner at their place before she brought us back home, and then the next morning, all the cherries in the house were gone.”
The hand in his tensed. “I don’t understand. Were you supposed to be taking care of the dog that morning or something? How was it your fault because you’d been with your friend the day before?”
Nate tried to sort it out in his head, but all he got was the same incomprehension echoed from Megan. “I don’t really know,” he finally said. “I’m probably leaving out something that I don’t remember. I’m sure it made sense at the time, though.”
“Manipulation like that often does.”
“Possibly.” He stared back at her. Had that been nothing more than manipulation on his mother’s part the whole time?
And then he wanted to kick himself. Of course it had. When had anything with her not been manipulation? And how had he never put that together with the cherry incident?
“I didn’t know you’d had a dog while growing up,” Megan said, bringing him back from the past. “I don’t remember Jaden ever mentioning one.”
“That’s probably because we only had him for about five months. The dog died not long after the cherry incident.”
She looked so sad for an animal she’d never known. “What happened to him?”
This one Nate did remember clearly. And this one had definitely been his fault. Because he should have never begged to get the dog to begin with.
“I won a spelling bee,” he explained as simply he could.
Megan sat up straight in her chair. “What?”
“Yeah.” He knew it was as ridiculous as it sounded. “After school started back up, I learned that there would be a district spelling bee in the fall. My mother constantly told me what a loser I was, so I worked hard on that one. So hard. Just to show her, but also because I wanted it. I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t a loser, you know?”
She nodded, her eyes never leaving his.
“I even beat out a kid a couple of years older than me,” he went on. “And then when we got home”—he shrugged, the pain of that day still raw inside him—“the dog was gone.”
“Gone?” Again, her eyes narrowed. “Not dead?”
He shook his head, but he didn’t look at her anymore. “Mom claimed she got a call later that night that a neighbor had found him. He’d been hit by a car.”
“And how did she explain this one being your fault?”
“She didn’t.” He turned back to her. “But she also didn’t have to. Bad things tend to happen to me right after anything good.”
“Nate . . .” She let go of his hand, and he immediately missed it. “What are you saying, exactly?” She shook her head in confusion. “Because that sounds crazy.”
“That’s my reality, Megan. It’s one of the reasons I don’t typically do relationships.”
She eyed him carefully before easing back into her chair. “And you don’t think that your mom may have just gotten rid of your dog to ‘punish’ you for doing something good?”
He knew she’d get it. “I very much think that’s what she did. I didn’t at the time, of course. But since learning about narcissism, I’ve seen that I was often in the role of scapegoat of the family. Good things happen, the narcissist often makes bad things be the consequence.” What he didn’t add was that being the scapegoat had often made him feel like an outsider. He’d always been the brother on the outside looking in at the rest of them.
“So then, you can’t make the kind of statement you just did. That isn’t your reality.”
“But it is.”
“But how? She’s gone. She’s been gone for years.”
He wished he could make her understand. Maybe then she’d push him away before he had a chance to do anything that couldn’t be undone. “Because maybe some of the things that happened hadn’t always been her fault,” he explained. “Maybe I screwed up too much. Still screw up too much.”
“But you just explained that you understand why she blamed you. Why she hurt you if yo
u started to get ahead in life.”
He closed his eyes, not wanting to see her need to believe in him. Because that belief, in itself, could be her downfall. “I also know that I’ve messed up plenty of times.” He reopened his eyes. “And my mistakes have caused other people to get hurt, Megan. Or they would get hurt if they knew about them.”
She studied him as if she could see the full truth of who he was, and when she spoke again, he wasn’t surprised to hear she’d hit the nail on the head. “Does that play into why you left so suddenly when you turned eighteen? Why you rarely come home?”
The conversation had taken a much deeper turn than he’d intended it to tonight. And he wasn’t sure he could go any further.
He wet his lips, suddenly wishing for a glass of water.
“I think that might be enough for tonight.” He made the statement almost as a question, not wanting to scare her off with any harshness that he knew remained inside him on the subject. But he also wasn’t ready to talk about anything more right now. “Will that be okay with you?”
Her hand slipped back into his. “That’s fine with me,” she said softly, and he covered their clasped hands with his other one.
“Thank you.” He almost leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips, but he stopped himself just in time. Instead, he just looked at her, a light smile on his mouth. He was glad he’d made the decision to come over tonight. And so glad she’d given him more than the quick brush-off he’d probably deserved. “And now for the important part,” he teased, giving her a quick wink. “Do we continue thinking about this—about us—beyond tonight? Do we spend a few days talking? Seeing if we want to push this thing further?”
She didn’t hesitate, and that warmed his heart. “Definitely,” she whispered.
He nodded. He liked her answer. “Then there’s something I have to know.” He swallowed before bringing up his next question, knowing she might not like it. But it was one he had to put out there. “While we’re deciding,” he began, then had to clear the croak out of his voice, “are you still going to be dating my friends?”