SWORN TO PROTECT: An Everyday Heroes World Novel

by Readnour, Kimberly

  I grab the blue plastic bowl I always use and start measuring the flour.

  “You want blueberries in your waffles?”

  All three guys respond with a yes.

  “Okay then.”

  “I’ll get them for you.” Nate strides over to the refrigerator.

  “Can you grab the milk too?”

  “Sure.” He sets the ingredients on the counter. “Where’s the colander? I’ll wash the blueberries.”

  “In the bottom right cabinet by the stove.”

  “Liam, did you have fun last night with Grandma?”

  “Yeah, we played a really old game with dice. Grandma said you used to play it. That’s how old it is.”

  Nate laughs. “It must be ancient.”

  “Hey!” I take my wooden spoon and swat his ass. But the joke is on me because it ricochets off that firm ass of his and lands back on me. The kids laugh.

  “Well, now that I injured myself, I have to know what game?” Although I’m fairly sure I know. Yahtzee used to be a staple in our household growing up.

  “Yahzoo,” Nick says, his lips puckering during the long O.

  “No, it’s Yahtzee. I told you this a million times last night.”

  “But I like saying zoo. It’s fun. Plus, I want to go see the penguins.”

  “We’ll have to remedy that once Liam’s leg heals.” Nate chuckles as I mix the batter.

  “Yay! I finally get to go see them!”

  Our eyes catch. It’s moments like this—the normalcy of him interacting with the kids—that causes those warm tingly sensations. It also makes me fall deeper in love with him and confuses the hell out of me simultaneously. What he suggests are things to be done in the future. As if we have a future. But if that’s true, what he needs to talk about can’t be him leaving. Could it have something to do with the nightmare he had? Or, maybe, it’s about him growing up in San Diego. Why hadn’t I thought about that? Of course. That makes perfect sense. I’ll mention what my brother found after breakfast. That way, he can get whatever is eating at him off his chest, and we can move forward.

  “Is the waffle iron ready?”

  “Good to go.”

  “Let’s get these made.” The sooner we get through breakfast, the sooner we can talk.

  * * *

  “Are the kids settled?” Nate asks.

  “Yeah. Nick’s in there keeping him company.” I shake my head. “I have a feeling that Liam will get tired of having his little brother glued to his side.”

  Nate pats the seat beside him on the couch. “Oh, I don’t know. I never tire of their mom by my side.”

  I blush. I can feel the warmth spread to my cheeks as I snuggle next to him.

  “Last night, you kept trying to tell me we needed to talk, but I deterred you.”

  His eyebrow quirks. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

  “I did have a goal last night.”

  “Not gonna lie. I like an ambitious woman.” He laughs as I slap his chest. Then he clears his throat. “I do have something I need to tell you, though. It’s something I should’ve said from the beginning.”

  “I already know.”

  His body stiffens. “You know?”

  “Yeah, and you don’t have to explain if you’re not ready. I understand.”

  “I’m not sure you know what I want to—”

  “Stop,” I interrupt him. “The reasoning doesn’t matter. But I wonder if this contributes to your nightmares.”

  He puffs out a long breath. “There seems to be a central theme to my nightmares, yes. I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

  “There’s no need to apologize. Do you want to talk about it?”

  Nate’s jaw clenches. He remains quiet for so long I don’t think he’s going to answer. Then he turns to face me with so much pain reflecting in his eyes, my heart squeezes. “You’ll never know how sorry I am.”

  I have to put a stop to his pain. I can’t stand it. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s not a big deal. I’ve known for a while.”

  The pain in his eyes turns to confusion as he studies me. “You have?”

  “Yeah. When my brother showed up last week, he told me that you lied about being from San Francisco. He said you’re actually from San Diego.”

  His lips part momentarily, and then he shakes his head as if I’ve stunned him. But he had to have seen this coming.

  “Was he right?” I press.

  “Uh, yeah. I grew up in San Diego.”

  “Why did you tell me you were from San Francisco?”

  “Honestly, I have no clue other than the fact I hate talking about my past. I studied at Cessna University in Los Angeles, but my national guard unit was based in San Francisco. Maybe that’s where I drew the connection.”

  “You don’t have to tell me the story if it bothers you that much.”

  “After witnessing one of my nightmares, I think I should.” He rubs his palms along his thighs. “I already told you how I lost my mom, but I held back the details for a reason.” He closes his eyes, taking a few calming breaths. When they reopen, he isn’t looking at me. He stares straight ahead, his expressionless mask firmly in place.

  Hello, Mr. Mysterious. I see you’re back.

  “What I’m about to tell you, I haven’t told anyone except for the police and the shrink children services had provided.”

  A pang in my chest squeezes tight. My mouth dries. I’m not sure I want to hear this story, after all.

  He lets out a humorless laugh and gives his head a little shake. “I was up in my bedroom, working on my history project. We had to recreate a World War II battle scene, and I had the idea of constructing one from Legos. Anyway, I heard what sounded like glass shattering. Mom had always been a bit clumsy.” A small smile crosses his lips from the remembrance, but it falls as quickly as it came. “I didn’t check it out, thinking she had broken another glass or dish. It wasn’t until I heard her scream that I knew something was awry.”

  I hold still, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him.

  “I sprang from the floor and ran down the stairs, but by the time I got there, they had already stabbed her multiple times.” His jaw ticks. His voice deep and even, emotionless. Almost as if he placed a shield around his emotions and melted the only key.

  “Blood was everywhere. All over the kitchen floor. Splattered on the walls. The refrigerator. I stood at the doorway, motionless.” His voice cracks. “I was useless.”

  “You were just a kid.”

  “Yeah, but I should’ve done something. Anything but stand there.”

  “You would’ve been killed.”

  “I’ll never erase that scene from my mind. Or the words that followed.”

  I gulp, desperate for him to stop talking, but knowing he needs to finish the story.

  “As I stood motionless, the murderer turned those coal-black eyes to me and smirked. The son of a bitch just stabbed my mom, and he smirked.” Nate runs his hand through his hair and huffs. “His words were cold and calculating. He said, ‘Tell your dad to pay his debts, or you’ll be next.’”

  I shudder. “Did they catch him?”

  “Eventually. It took some time since dear ole Dad had screwed multiple people out of their money in some type of laundering scheme. His fucking greed ended with my mom dead and him in jail.”

  “What about you?”

  “Me.” He scoffs. “Let me tell you what I did. Mom still had a pulse after the guy left, but I couldn’t get the bleeding under control. It took years, but I finally got a hold of her file. She suffered multiple lacerations, but it was the three to her spleen that were fatal.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “I didn’t want anything to do with my dad. My official last name is hyphenated. Some hippie-dippy shit my mother insisted on. I hated it growing up, but it worked to my advantage when I dropped his name and distanced myself from him.”

  That explains so much.

  “I made my dad sign the waiver s
o I could join the army earlier. I became a surgeon to save lives. I found my purpose. It helped until recently.”

  He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “That’s enough confession time today.”

  “But there’s more. I need to tell you the rest.”

  “You don’t have to. Believe me, I may not fully understand your pain, but you’re mad at yourself for not doing anything. But you were a kid. Look what I did with Liam.” When his eyebrows furrow, I explain, “When we came upon that scene, I froze. I couldn’t even look at his mangled leg. If it wasn’t for you stopping the bleeding, I”—a cold shudder races down my spine at the thought of him losing his leg—“would’ve let him bleed out.”

  “You wouldn’t have. I just stepped in right away.”

  “Yeah, but what kind of nurse am I going to be if I can’t assess the patient?”

  “That was your son lying there. You were a mother first.”

  “And you were a son first.”

  Something shifts in his eyes. Appreciation and understanding maybe? I don’t know, but his phone pings with a text, interrupting whatever he was going to say.

  “You may as well check that. Like I said, I don’t think my heart can take much more today.”

  He smiles softly at me. “You are incredible.”

  “Just remember that when I turn my crazed bitch side on you.”

  “You’re too hard on yourself.” He glances down at his phone and stands. “Can I borrow your computer?”

  “Oh, sure. It’s over on the desk.”

  “I need to look something up. I’ll only be a minute.”

  “The password is Kitten2Purrfect. The K and P are capitalized.” I laugh at Nate’s incredulous expression. “Don’t judge. It’s been my password since I was a teen. It’s easy to remember.”

  “No judgment here.”

  “You want any more coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  I gather our mugs and head to the kitchen. By the time I arrive back with the steaming cups of joe, Nate has his shoes on and is standing by the door.

  “Sorry, but I have to go.”

  “Okay, I guess I’ll see you later tonight?” I set the mugs down on the coffee table and stand by him.

  He hesitates. “I may have to drive into the city later. I’m not sure how long it’ll take, but I doubt I’ll be back tonight. I’ll let you know.” He wraps his hands around my waist and leans his forehead to mine. “I hate leaving you.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “Aw, I wish I didn’t have to.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  I watch him leave, trying to process everything he told me. One thing I know for sure. I’m totally in love with this man.

  Complications and all.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Mackenzie

  Well, that was a shitshow.

  There was a time when I visited Mom and Stan and enjoyed our time together. I call it the pre-Jordan era. Like everything else he touches, those peaceful days are ruined.

  “Mom, can I stay up a little and play a game?” Liam asks.

  “Do you have your homework done?” Seven o’clock on a Sunday night is still plenty of time before the kids go to bed. But our rule has always been no gaming on school nights. Even though Liam isn’t attending school, he still has virtual learning, which works out nicely.

  “Yeah, I finished it yesterday.” He pivots on his crutch and then stops. Twisting his back to face me, he gets an almost solemn expression. I brace myself for whatever he’s going to toss my way. “Uncle Jordan is kind of a jerk, isn’t he?”

  “He can be.” There’s no use sugarcoating it. More than likely, Liam heard every word spewed from Jordan’s mouth. What makes it worse is Nate wasn’t there to defend himself. He didn’t get back in time from the city to have dinner with us. I told him just to wait until we got home before coming over. He should be here soon.

  “What did he mean when he told you to watch out for Mr. Dixon? Does he think he’s after your money? If so, I think Uncle Jordan is wrong. Mr. Dixon pays for our ice cream with his own money.”

  If I weren’t so upset, I’d laugh. Of all the things Jordan spewed, I wish the boys hadn’t overheard that part. Jordan won’t let up on his conspiracy theory. I broke down and told my brother about finally getting my deposit. Nate has known about it for over two weeks and nothing happened. That didn’t satisfy Jordan, though.

  “He doesn’t like Nate. So he questions his motives for being here.”

  “What’s so hard to understand that he’s here because he likes us?”

  I smile at the simplified analysis from an eleven-year-old. But I do agree. “I don’t know.”

  “And I like him too.”

  “So do I, bub. So do I.” A little too much, if I’m honest. I missed him last night and this morning. Funny, after spending a morning with him, I feel like that could be the norm. I’m so screwed if he decides to leave.

  “If I had a choice who to be with, I’d choose Mr. Dixon. He pays the most attention to us. He never complains about us being around, either.”

  Damn, if that doesn’t cause a pain in my chest. Oomph. I don’t dare ask if he includes Ethan in the mix. At this point, I’m not sure I want to know. But the truth speaks for itself. Nate outshines them all. He’s done more with these kids than Ethan or Jordan could ever dream. He listens to them. He gives them advice. He takes care of them. Maybe it’s the surgeon inside him. That innate need to help people that neither Ethan nor Jordan possesses. I’m not sure.

  I take in my son as he stares up at me, his face full of innocent honesty. His looks scream Ethan, but this kid’s attitude and sass are all me. My sweet boy.

  “You’re right. Nate’s pretty great. He likes both of you as well.”

  “I’m going to go play.” Liam hobbles down the hallway and calls for his brother. I lucked out with that kid.

  Mom’s words echo through my mind, the ones warning me to give Jordan another chance. “You only have one go around in life. There are no excuses for hanging onto grudges. They don’t do anyone any good.”

  Easier said than done.

  Maybe that’s why she forgave my father for how he treated us and for all his tricks and thieving that eventually landed him in jail. I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath and slowly let it escape. I should get back to my yoga routine I did before moving here. Before I became a widow. I could benefit from the breathing techniques about now. I seem to hold on to too many grudges. If I’m going to let some go, I know right where to start. And it’s not with my brother.

  I check on the boys first, their giggles making me smile. I trek my way to my bedroom and close the door. My gaze lands on the remaining boxes I have yet to sort through. Those can wait for another day. What I’m tackling will be more challenging. I lock the door and then face my demons straight on. I march over to my dresser and pick up the small box. My hands shake as I open the flaps. Taking a deep breath, I remove the letter that feels scorching hot in my hands—the weight of Ethan’s last words bearing down on me. My stomach churns as I unfold the paper and begin reading.

  Mackenzie,

  I bet you couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw this letter sitting in my box. Pretty messed up since I gave you so much shit over that movie you made me watch, huh? This may be bad juju, but I needed to tell you a few things before heading out on this mission. Some things I should’ve said a long time ago . . .

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Nate

  The wait is over.

  Tonight, no matter who interrupts, I’m telling Mackenzie that Ethan had sent me. I can’t keep this from her any longer.

  My stomach rolls while I climb the stairs to her house and knock. I rein in my nerves. Why the hell am I so nervous? She’ll understand.

  She has to.

  The door opens, but a little guy replaces the beautiful redhead who usually greets me. He stares at me, all bugged
and teary-eyed. My senses go on high alert.

  “What’s up, buddy?”

  “Mom’s crying.”

  “What? Is she hurt?” I push my way inside and look around the living room. Liam leans on his crutches outside Mackenzie’s bedroom down the hallway. It’s the concern in his expression that guts me.

  “She inside?” I ask, eyeing her closed door. What’s going on?

  “Yeah, but we heard her crying. She won’t let us in.”

  I give him a quick nod and bang on the door. “Mackenzie, are you okay?” I turn the door handle only to find it locked.

  Silence.

  “Mackenzie, you’re starting to worry me.” I pound on the door some more. It wouldn’t take anything for me to bust the lock, but this is a rental. I don’t think the landlord would appreciate the damage. But it may come to that. “Mackenzie, you’re scaring the kids.”

  That must get her attention. The shuffling of feet across her floor grows louder. Her door swings open, and I stumble back, more from shock than the pain stinging my cheek. Shit. I wasn’t expecting that slap. She goes to smack me again, but I catch her arm.

  “Apparently, I did something to you.”

  “You son of a bitch.”

  “What did I—” My gaze lands on a piece of paper on the floor. The same ecru linen stationery I’ve seen multiple times. My heart drops. There’s no need to see the penmanship to recognize the author. “Let me explain.”

  “Explain? I think my husband explained enough.”

  Fuck! I forgot he was going to tell her. I was supposed to be gone before she read his letter. Not stick around and fall in love with her.

  “How could you? You looked me in the eye every day and willingly lied.”

  “There were so many times I tried to tell you.” I clamp my jaw tight before I say something regretful. This lie isn’t anyone else’s fault but my own. I take full responsibility. “Look, I was going to tell you tonight.”