Legal Bindings

31. Nick

Sydney hadn’t saida word since getting into the car for the drive to the funeral. Nick hadn’t forced her to. What good would it do? She was grieving in her own way, and meddlesome adults who tried to make small talk wouldn’t help. So he put on the radio and drove, with an occasional glance at her as they wound their way through the streets toward the funeral home where the small service was to be held.

They were five minutes out when Nick’s phone began to ring through the car’s speakers. Olivia—his new boss—was calling, and he felt obligated to answer, despite the tinge of annoyance at being interrupted on his day off.

“Sorry, Syd,” he said. “Hello?”

“Nick? Where the hell are you?”

Caught off guard, Nick blinked and looked at Sydney, whose eyes had widened at Olivia’s tone. “Uh. I’m… off today?”

“You don’t have PTO accrued yet.”

It seemed Olivia had misplaced her memories. “I sent you an email on Monday letting you know I’d need to take the day and bank it against future time. You replied.”

“No, I didn’t.” That was followed by the clacking of a keyboard and a soft harrumphing noise when she found the email in question. “Ah. Well. Regardless, I need you here. We’re behind on the Johnson depositions and—”

“That’s not going to be possible,” he said, cutting her off with as much professionalism as he could muster, mindful of his passenger. “I’m going to a funeral.”

Olivia paused briefly. “Well, how long can that possibly take?”

Nick didn’t miss the way Sydney winced, and if he could have reached through the phone to strangle Olivia, he would have. “It’s family,” he said through gritted teeth. “So it’ll take a while. I’ll see about coming in over the weekend to make up some time.”

Olivia sighed a heavy sigh. “Fine. Tomorrow, then.”

“Right. I’ll talk to you soon.”

The console screen went blank. Nick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose while Sydney picked at a loose thread on her dark-gray dress.

“You’re in trouble?” she asked after a second.

“No. She just forgot I was supposed to be off.”

“What was all that stuff about building up time?”

“It’s a stupid work thing—you only get a certain number of days off a year, and you can’t use them until you’ve earned them.”

“Oh.” The thread unraveled further. If she wasn’t careful, she’d ruin the hem. “She didn’t even say sorry.”

“Why would she apologize?”

“Because of the funeral,” she said, looking at him as if he’d grown three heads.

That hadn’t even struck him as odd. Olivia wasn’t a warm and fuzzy person, so he didn’t expect her to acknowledge something awful when it didn’t serve her immediate needs. Still, now that Sydney had pointed it out, he saw her point.

“You’re right. She should have.”

“Yeah.” Sydney fell silent as they turned into the parking lot of the funeral home, which was almost full. Perhaps there was a second service taking place at the same time. “Hey, there’s Sam!”

“Syd, hey, let me park the—”

It was no use. She’d used his momentary pause to open the door and bound out, beelining to her brother with the dogged intensity of a kid with an anvil of emotions weighing down her heart.

Nick swung into a parking spot then got out of the car, where he was surprised to find his neighbors—Evan’s friends Kim and Brianne, or Kate and Brin, or whatever—emerging from a vehicle two doors down. They acknowledged him with a wave then headed for the doorway, where Evan was standing beside a redheaded woman who was holding a stack of programs.

Confused, Nick headed toward them, and Sydney met him halfway with Sam and his foster family in tow. She lit up when she saw Evan, who pulled her into a hug then introduced her to the redhead—Minette, an old friend of his, apparently. After that, Evan ushered them inside, where the vestibule was full to bursting with people, most of whom Nick didn’t recognize.

“Evan,” he said under his breath, catching his arm. “This is… who are…?”

“I made a couple of calls. Activated the official queer phone tree.” He reached over to give Nick’s bicep a squeeze. “God knows this community gets what it’s like to be on the outside looking in. They were happy to come.”

Nick was rendered speechless as he looked around the small chapel. Most of the faces he didn’t know, but a few—people from Evan’s show or the club—were familiar. A sea of strangers had turned out to support a kid they didn’t even know, simply because someone in their community had asked for a favor.

“You…” Nick began, not knowing how to express the dual waves of gratitude and confusion that washed over him.

Sydney turned to Evan, her eyes brimming with tears. “These people came for my mom?” she asked, her chin trembling.

“They came for you, Siddo,” Evan said, and she started to cry.

Nick, moved by a paternal instinct he’d only recently recognized as such, put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her close. With a deep, shuddering breath, she looked up at him and wiped her eyes.

“I want to go and see her,” she said.

The closed wicker casket was at the front of the room. Nick walked with her, stiff shouldered and slow, and stood as she ran her fingers over the coffin, saying nothing. Sydney wasn’t the sort of person to howl her sorrow at the ceiling in front of strangers. She would feel it later in quiet moments then take that anguish and pour it onto a canvas. Just like Evan.

“Okay,” she said after a few minutes, blowing out a shallow breath. “I saw. We can… okay, we can sit down.”

“You sure?” Nick asked, rubbing her arm. “We can stay as long as you need to.”

Sydney shrugged, rubbing her red-rimmed eyes. “It’s all right. She’s not really there.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” he said, drawing her away and over to the chairs reserved for family. “I remember my grandma’s funeral. I didn’t look, but I wish I had.”

“How did she die?” Sydney clung to his arm, her eyes fixed on her mother’s casket.

“Dementia and all its attendant awfulness. She should have been in a home long before they ever took me out of her care, but I worked really hard to keep things respectable from the outside so people wouldn’t see how bad she’d gotten.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, that’s…” Nick swallowed around his heartbeat, which was picking up at the memory of that awful day. “I had to go to school. That was the one place I couldn’t watch her. And it was fine at first—she was better during the days than at night. But one day, she got my grandfather’s old service revolver from this secret drawer in his desk—I didn’t even know she had a gun in the house—and went walking down the street in her nightgown, waving it around.”

“Oh my God,” Sydney said, her eyes wide.

“Yeah. She started banging on the neighbors’ doors, going on about a man who’d broken into the house. Which I guess was something that really happened when she was younger, but she mixed it up. One of the neighbors called the cops, and… they took care of her, but by the time I got home, there was a social worker waiting for me.” He took in a deep breath then counted to three and let it out. “We both went into other people’s care. She died a couple years after that.”

“And you didn’t have other family?”

“I had…” He swallowed, tears pricking his eyes as he unburdened himself of things long buried. “From what little I understood, my grandfather wasn’t a very nice guy, either to his wife or to his children. My mom was the baby by about ten years—a surprise. So she wasn’t close to her siblings, and then she ran away and got into drugs and ended up pregnant, and, ah… you don’t want to hear this, Sydney.”

“Yes, I do.” Her fingers dug into his arm, and she looked up at him with solemn eyes. “It’s important.”

“There’s not much more to it,” he said, closing his eyes and seeing the dark wood lacquer of his grandmother’s casket and the empty pews arrayed in front of her body. “None of the kids were living in Iowa by the time my grandma passed, and I hardly even knew them or my cousins. They had lives and families of their own, and I was just… a reminder, I guess. Of their father or their childhood or their screwed-up little sister. Only one of them came to the funeral, and none of them wanted me.”

Sydney sniffled, and when Nick opened his eyes, he found tears on her cheeks. Guilt rushed through him, and he shook his head. It was his story, yes, but he was still the grown-up.

So he pulled her into a rough hug and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You aren’t going to have to worry about that, Siddo. I know you’ve been alone for a while, but I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not giving up on you. And I mean, look at everyone around us, right? People make families in all sorts of weird ways.”

Pulling back, Sydney wiped her eyes and gave him a watery smile. “Thanks. And, um, thanks for doing all of this.”

“You should thank Evan too.” He twisted in his seat to see what Evan was doing. To his surprise, Evan was talking to Max, who was the last person he had expected to see at the service. Or at all.

Nick had no idea why Max was there, but he didn’t have time to think much of it as people took their seats and the small, simple service began. There was no eulogy, and a minister spoke some words that felt generic rather than specific but were kind all the same. It was a dignified end to a sad life, if nothing else, and Nick could feel Sydney sniffling quietly at his side, her hand gripping Sam’s.

After the service, Sydney and Sam disappeared, promising to “be right back” and needing “to talk.” Nick knew they couldn’t get far, so he let them go then went in search of Evan. He was waylaid by Donna, who approached him in the lobby with a smile on her face.

“A little bird told me the home inspection went well,” she said.

“The ceiling didn’t cave in, so that’s good.” Thanks to Evan’s industrious cleaning, the inspector had seemed impressed.

Donna’s smile widened, and she leaned in. “I have it on good authority that your case is getting pushed forward at lighting speed on account of Sydney losing her mother.”

“Gotta love the tears of grief grinding the gears of bureaucracy,” he said with a wry smile, which made Donna snort. “What’s left?”

“Not much—but, speaking of, did Evan send in his paperwork yet?”

Nick hadn’t known about Evan’s paperwork, so he covered quickly. “No, I, ah—he’s been really busy with his show and stuff. Plus, planning all of this.”

“Don’t let that become a hurdle, all right? You’ve checked almost all the boxes.” She gave his arm a squeeze. “Congratulations, Nick.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled as she walked away.

If Evan hadn’t mentioned being contacted, that meant he was nervous about the background check. And if he was nervous, that meant he cared and wanted to stay with them, despite all his nonchalance about how easy it would be to leave. The thought was a comfort, as Nick didn’t want Evan going anywhere. In fact, he was fairly sure he wanted more from Evan than a friendship. He just had to figure out how to tell him so.

He was jolted from his thoughts by someone bumping into him, and he spluttered, “Excuse me” before realizing his accidental assailant was Max. “Oh shit.”

“Hi,” Max said, his crooked mouth turned down at the corners. “Sorry, I—uh, yeah.”

“What are you doing here?” he said, trying not to sound like an accusatory asshole.

“Evan called me. He said he was trying to help out a friend, and when he told me what it was about, I figured, um, it would give me the chance to talk to you.”

Nick didn’t like the sound of that. “You… want to talk? Why?”

Max crossed his arms, studying a point somewhere to the left of Nick’s head. “Because with Evan in common, we’re probably going to run into each other again, so I wanted to clear the air.”

“Clear the…”

“I don’t like you very much, but Evan seems to believe you’re not a total asshole, and I happen to think he’s a good judge of character. So I don’t know what to think, except that I’m in love with Ben, and you… I saw how messed up he was because of you.” Max blinked, his eyes blazing. “You made him think he wasn’t worth anything, and he’s worth… he’s the best person I’ve ever known. So, you know, I think you deserve to feel bad about that. And I wanted to say it.”

“I do. Feel bad about it, that is,” Nick said softly. He wouldn’t have been able to admit that to himself a few months earlier, but the guilt he felt about Ben had been buried deep for years. “When things got bad, I made them worse, and I took advantage of his good nature. But I…” He cleared his throat then swiped a hand across his eyes, close to tears for the second time that day. “I regret how things ended, and I regret fucking him up so badly.”

“He doesn’t need your pity,” Max said warily, as if Nick’s tears might be a ruse. “Or your sympathy. He’s fine.”

“I’m happy for him,” he said and meant it. For all that he and Ben had been terrible for each other, he didn’t begrudge Ben his happy ending. “I never wanted… I didn’t like who I was with him. The things I did.”

Max’s frown deepened, and he shook his head. “I don’t get you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes you act like the world’s biggest jerk—and I mean, most of the time you are. But then Evan tells me that you’re funny. And that you’re trying to adopt a kid. And you’re defending her in court. And you’re…” He sighed. “You’re a fucking human being, I guess. Which makes it harder to hate you than when I thought you were just this monstrous dick.”

Nick searched for the right words and found the only two that fit. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you ought to apologize to,” Max said quietly. “But for what it’s worth, thanks. And I’m sorry about your kid’s mom.”

With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the dwindling crowd.

* * *

It took another half hour for everyone to disperse, after which they took the kids out for a late lunch, splitting the bill between Sam’s foster parents and Nick. Everyone was subdued, and when Nick dropped Sydney off at the group home later, he decided to offer her a glimpse of her future.

“Donna says things are moving along with my application,” he said before she could open the door.

She turned, a glimmer of a smile on her tired face. “Really? How long?”

“Sooner than we’d hoped, I think. So… start thinking about what color you want to paint your bedroom.” Her bedroom was the former guest room with the sagging floor, but Nick’s very first paycheck from the new firm had gone into shoring up that foundation.

Sydney’s smile turned into a grin. “Black. Chalkboard black so I can draw all over the walls.”

The conformist part of Nick raised a protest, which his better self promptly squashed. “That sounds like a plan. Text me later and let me know how you’re doing. And hey, I’m not good at saying this stuff, but I’m trying to get better. So, here goes. I, ah… I love you, Syd.”

Something brief and hopeful flashed across her face, and she folded herself into his arms for a hug. “I love you too.”

She fled the car in short order, and Nick watched her head inside, smiling as his fingers flexed on the steering wheel. It felt wrong to be so happy on the day of a funeral, but he couldn’t help it. Sydney was coming home.

As he pulled away from the curb, the reality of what that meant struck him in the chest. Sydney was coming to live with him—them—meaning that all the tiny details that he’d been putting off, lest they karmically jeopardize the situation, needed to be completed—stocking the fridge with food she would like, making sure he had her school situation worked out, seeing that she had what she needed in terms of clothing and supplies. And then there was the matter of fostering Sam too. He’d talked about it with Donna, who thought it might be possible, but she’d need to check before he could he tell Sydney.

Stop, said the voice in his head that sounded a lot like Evan’s. Yes, there was a lot to do, but Nick was capable of handling a lot. And what he couldn’t handle, Evan could help with because Evan was skilled at keeping himself above water no matter how rough the storm.

Provided Evan passed his background check. With that thought in mind, Nick turned toward home, where he found Evan in the kitchen, a phone pressed to his ear.

“Hi,” Evan mouthed as Nick came in, pointing at the phone.

“Hi,” Nick mouthed in return. He opened the fridge, eavesdropping as he scrounged for leftovers.

“I just don’t see how I could before the beginning of the—” Evan gave a series of “mm-hmm” and “yeah, definitely” responses.

Nick, meanwhile, nuked two slices of pizza to soothe his grumbling stomach then sat at the table and loosened his tie. Evan kept talking—something about booking a flight—and when he hung up, his expression was somewhere between annoyed and elated.

“Planning a trip?” Nick asked oh so casually, taking a bite like he wasn’t worried.

“Ah, sort of.” He put his phone on the table then pulled out the chair opposite Nick’s. “That was the agent I told you about. The one I’m going to meet with tomorrow?”

The pepperoni was burning the roof of Nick’s mouth as he nodded. Evan’s upcoming trip to New York had hovered at the edges of his mind as something to be aware of but not of particular importance. Yet, it struck him as odd that Evan would tell him about his travel but not about the background check coming due.

“Uh-huh,” he said.

“She wants me to extend the trip and meet with some gallery owners, go to a couple of events.”

Nick relaxed. An extended business trip was manageable—hell, Evan would probably be home again before anything moved forward with Sydney. “That’s cool. Do you think you’ll—”

“She wants me to look at an apartment too,” he blurted, tapping his fingers against the table. “A friend of hers is subletting their place for six months while she’s in Europe. Which is the most bougie shit I’ve ever heard, by the way. But she thinks if I wanted to try out the city, it’d be a good time for me to find my feet, you know? Look for something permanent if I want.”

Nick had started panicking somewhere around “six months,” but he picked up the word permanent and felt his soul leave his body. “Wait, what?”

“I was thinking, I mean, with Sydney moving in and everything, maybe it’s for the best. That way, you don’t have to worry about my history.”

“Is this about them sending you the stuff for the background check?” Nick asked, still reeling from the idea that Evan—his Evan—wanted to move to New York. As in, across the country from Nick and Sydney and the life Nick had stupidly been picturing when he imagined telling Evan how he felt for him.

But this was nothing new, really. Evan had talked about leaving since the first day he’d moved in, and Nick had been a fool to believe he would stay.

“They sent me some stuff the other day,” Evan said, still radiating nervous energy. “I’ll probably be fine, but you never know with my financial history. I mean, what if they think it’s weird and start digging deeper or… you know. I sent them the permission to do it, but I just think New York is for the best, don’t you?”

Evan kept going, but all Nick could focus in on was “probably be fine.” As in, Evan would most likely pass a background check and was choosing to move across the country anyway. To call it a reality check was an understatement.

Nick placed both palms flat on the table and forced himself to steady his breathing. “Wow. Congratulations.”

“I know. It’s crazy, right?”

“It’s… fast,” Nick said, choosing his words carefully lest he pick the wrong one and reveal his mounting panic. If there was one thing he had perfected during his years in the system, it was keeping his outer self neutral and unbothered.

“Too fast, do you think? Because it might not even happen—I could go and hate it, or the apartment could fall through, or, like, a million other things.” Evan leaned forward, his eyes locked on Nick’s, and it was clear he was searching for Nick’s blessing.

“No, not too fast,” he said, shaking his head.

If he stopped being selfish and focusing on himself and his tender little bit of happiness, the move made sense for Evan. He’d always been bigger than Seattle—bigger than Nick—and Nick wasn’t the sort of naive idiot who believed in sappy love stories and soulmates. He knew better than that. As he thought about their time together, he found it increasingly simple to believe that his mushy-gushy desire for Evan had been brought about by hormones and endorphin rushes. Asking Evan to stay would be as selfish as what Nick had done to Ben—manipulation in the form of affection.

Nick was better than that now. He had to be if he was going to set a decent example for Sydney and Sam. So he plastered a smile onto his face, all the while digging his fingernails into his thigh beneath the table.

“Congratulations, Evan. I’m sure you’ll kill it in New York.” He shrugged, reaching for his napkin to wipe his mouth. “And I’ll be fine. The job’s going well—they seem to like me.” That was a lie, but Evan didn’t need to concern himself with Nick’s troubles. “And Sydney comes with a stipend, which will go a long way to covering her expenses.”

That wasn’t strictly true either. The state would be giving him money but not nearly enough. But he’d figure it out. He always did. And he didn’t need anyone’s help to do so.

“Right.” Evan frowned then reached across the table to touch the back of Nick’s hand. Nick pulled away without thinking, and though Evan looked stung, he recovered quickly. “I’ll only be gone a week this time, and it could be months before I’m out there permanently, if I go at all.”

“It would be good to know whether you’re going as soon as possible,” Nick said, his voice clipped and hollow. “So we can put the background check business behind us. Donna says that’s the only thing holding up my application.”

“Ah.” Evan looked down and nodded. “Right. Understood.”

Nick pushed his plate away and stood, his words coming unbidden as he fought to tamp down the flood of anger and confusion that threatened to burst forth. “There’s a reason we agreed on a month-to-month lease, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“We both knew this was temporary. And now, with Sydney, it just makes sense that you should be… on your way out.”

Evan studied him, his expression inscrutable. “Right. Got it. Thanks, Nick. I ought to go and pack for my trip.”

“Yes, you probably should.” For the third time that day, tears touched the corners of Nick’s eyes as his throat closed tight.

“Yeah.” Evan laughed, rubbing his forehead and blinking a couple of times before getting to his feet. “You know what? I’m tired of having this conversation. You’re right, Nick. I wasn’t looking for anything permanent. And now—well, I guess I know where you stand.”

“I don’t see why you’re getting upset,” he said, employing another defense mechanism—the angrier someone else appeared, the easier it became for him to retreat into the protective cocoon of indifference. Evan was the one who was choosing to leave.

“Well, you wouldn’t.” Evan reached for his phone. “I’ll figure out Sydney’s art lessons—find her someone else. That’s for her, not you, by the way. As for the rest of it…” He shook his head. “I’ll make sure to fill out the proper documentation to get my security deposit back.”

With that, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. Only when Nick heard his bedroom door slam did he allow himself a reaction. He dropped into his vacated chair with a sigh that could have been mistaken for a sob. But it wasn’t a sob. Nick didn’t cry over spilled milk, and he certainly didn’t cry over hard choices.