Master Debater

31. Nate

“So, do you live here now too, or what?”

At the glare I shot Rylee, who’d moved back in with Mom as she reevaluated which direction to take her life next, she…continued to do exactly what she’d been doing before. She pulled a can out of the fridge, strolled over, and sat on the stool next to me, where I had my laptop out on the counter.

The hiss of her soda filled the air as she popped the top. “You look like the pictures they show during my alcohol and drug awareness course, when they discuss the dangerous effects on your body and health. Scruff is in, but bedraggled chic is not a thing.”

When she tugged on my overgrown whiskers, I smacked her hand away. “I’m not taking fashion advice from you, of all people.”

“Right back at you, big brother.” After taking a glug from the can I’d originally thought was Coke but turned out to be strawberry sparkling water, she plunked her elbow on the counter and her fist on her chin. And just studied me way too closely, as though I were a painting in a museum and not a human being.

Since she had no trouble invading my personal space, I invaded hers in return, snatching away her can and taking a swig. I stuck out my tongue, gagging at the fizzy liquid that tasted more like a reminder of a drink instead of an actual drink. “Gross. That tastes like strawberry juice that’s passed through a fairy’s ass.”

Rylee snorted a laugh and reclaimed the can. “It’s obviously too high class for you.”

“Says the felon.”

“Ah!” She slugged me in the shoulder. “I might’ve pled guilty on the advice of my lawyer, but my record is going to stay clean.”

“Your lawyer will appreciate that, considering you think he works pro bono.” I gave her a playful shove, and suddenly we were kids again, smacking and reciprocating, seeing how much we could get away with before Mom caught us.

We both burst into laughter as the legs of our stools scraped the floor, and it was the first time I’d felt anything but misery for a solid week.

Naturally calling attention to that fact plunged me back into the wretched lonely depths again. When was this awful ache in my chest going to go away? I didn’t have time for it; didn’t have time to be anything less than at the top of my game.

“So,” Rylee said, “you never answered my question. It’s almost like you’re avoiding someone.”

“I needed to take care of a few things here last night, and since I was doing this thing that real adults call ‘working’ until late, I crashed out in my old room. Then Jameson and Kat insisted we go to dinner tonight, and since the restaurant is in this neighborhood, it didn’t seem worth it to drive home or to my office, just to drive back during rush hour.”

Rylee lifted her can of sad static water and tipped it in my direction. “Nice try, but you love driving your car. Normally, you won’t shut up about it.”

Now that my sister had verged into the territory I was doing my damnedest to avoid, there’d be no more happiness. What was wrong with me that I had to bite my tongue to prevent myself from telling her I liked it better when she’d been a self-involved princess?

What’s wrong with you is that you put yourself out there, only to get the reminder of why you shouldn’t. That didn’t ring precisely true, and yet I clung to my denial as hard as I clung to my indignance. Same went for denying there was any avoiding going on.

No, it was more like fucking fleeing.

My penthouse now held too many reminders of Willa, the absence of her all I could see, everywhere I looked. The other night, I’d stepped out onto the balcony to get fresh air, only for the recollection of descending to her bedroom and inviting myself inside to punch me in the face.

My grand piano used to be my place of solace. Now it’d transformed into a physical reminder of the first time I’d heard Willa sing; of the night I’d played her body along with the keys.

I used to love my space and my giant bed, and now I rolled over at nights, searching and seeking, only for my arms to come up empty.

I rubbed at the ache in the center of my chest. While it grew stronger instead of weaker, my memories of Willa were like the sparkly water, filtered through static and so fucking bittersweet they robbed me of breath. Hell, even my office managed to remind me of her showing up, of the night everything had slowly begun to crumble.

If I’d known what would happen, would I change it? Could I have slapped on some spackle and held it in place? At least for a little longer.

It doesn’t matter. It’s done.

It wasn’t like more time would’ve made the goodbye and inevitable end any easier. And while I might’ve made some missteps, I maintained I’d been upfront from the beginning about the demands of my career. With so much on the line, there was no way I could say no to the Doxon case, just like saying yes to my uncles—whose intentions were much clearer to me than Willa—would undo everything I’d worked for.

Part of me wishes the spark wasn’t still there. Her voice rose, unbidden, the words she’d spoken that night etching a raw trail into my very bones. That I didn’t know, without a doubt, that it’ll always be there whenever I think of you.

Lead filled my lungs and although I could vaguely feel the keyboard of my laptop under my fingers, nothing felt real or substantial anymore.

“Nate.” Rylee placed her hand on my arm, and the concern in her features made me think it wasn’t the first time she’d tried to gain my attention. “If you miss her that badly, call her up, apologize, and make it right.”

The only thing worse than being acutely self-aware of the hangover that wouldn’t go away was the mention of Willa, even if not by name. “What did she tell you? Because I tried to make it work, Ry. I really did. But she asked me to give on too much. Even if Bobby had cancer, that doesn’t mean?—”

“Bobby has cancer?” Rylee’s voice came out shrill, the worry in her eyes so palpable it coated the air between us. She scooted to the edge of her stool. “Is it bad? Do they know how long he has?”

Well, I stepped in it now. “He’s fine now. I’m not convinced that he was ever sick. I think the lung cancer tale was just something Gil cooked up to try to take away my new client.”

“How couldn’t you tell me?” Rylee pushed away from the counter, so roughly the stool rocked for a noisy eternity, underscoring the betrayal in her features. “How long have you known?”

“You haven’t talked to Willa?”

Rylee hugged her arms around herself, slowly backing away as though I was someone who’d hurt her. “No, but I’ll call her right now if I have to. I’ll ask her to come over and tell me what the hell’s going on, since my brother never does.” She sucked in a ragged breath, unable to stifle her sob. She’d told me before that she missed our uncles, but I didn’t realize how much until now.

Part of me had thought she was only using it to jab at me and get under my skin.

“It would be nice to talk to someone who understands what a self-centered jackass you can be!” Rylee shouted, our momentary peace and happiness so long gone it almost felt as though it never happened. “It hurt me to ignore their calls, but I did it for you. You always throw Dad in the mix, but during those hours on the boat, he talked about how much he loved Gil and Bobby and how much they’d been through. I’m not saying what they did was right, but Dad would’ve at least heard them out. But no, you had to make it about you and about your firm.”

I reached for my sister. “Rylee?—”

“Not everything’s about you, Nate.” The words echoed through the kitchen and slammed me with such force I braced a hand on the counter to ensure I didn’t topple backward off my stool.

My first instinct was to deny it. If it wasn’t the second time I’d been confronted with a crying female in a week—three, if I counted the other day when I’d made Christine cry at the office—I would’ve too.

I’d been so sure I was right. I was always so sure I was right.

The urge to dredge up the countless occasions Rylee had acted without a thought to anybody but herself beckoned, but I had several years on her. The synapses in her brain hadn’t even fully formed yet, and she’d lost her dad during one of the most vulnerable times in her life. So, what was my excuse?

“I’m…” My throat tightened, literally resisting finishing the sentence. Throwing out a sorry here and there for tiny inconveniences or interruptions I didn’t mind taking responsibility for didn’t seem like too big a deal. But an actual heartfelt apology was a whole different beast.

It left the ball in someone else’s court. If I didn’t lob it their way, there wasn’t a chance they’d reject it or hold on to it to later hang over my head. I’m not sure what caused me to feel that way about apologizing or admitting I was wrong. Only that, up until this very moment, after having two of the people I cared most about in my life point it out, I hadn’t realized how strongly it’d been engrained in my personality.

Rylee shook her head at me, took up her red aluminum can, and pivoted on her heel, a step into a dramatic storm-outs.

Not again. I can’t lose her too. I lunged forward, caught her elbow, and spun her to face me.

At first, the sticky splatter didn’t make sense, my brain struggling to process why I was wet, and then whether Rylee had thrown her drink at me. But I’d been the one who grabbed her arm without paying attention, and the force had resulted in a spray of liquid that hit me and the floor.

She pressed her lips together, doing her best not to laugh or cry, or perhaps both.

A snorted laugh burst from me first, and then she joined in. I took the can from her, set it aside, and pulled her into my arms for a hug. “I’m so sorry, Ry. You’re right. I got so caught up in my own stuff and throwing a grandstanding pity-party for myself over having to constantly fix everything for everyone. I’m starting to think that I ended up doing more damage than anything.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t really get to be sad when Dad died. Mom and I were falling apart, and you held us together and made sure we, along with everything else, was taken care of. We both appreciate that. Even if it made you even bossier than you’d been before, and you were just about unbearable as it was.”

I pulled away enough to shoot her a look that made her give me a wide, unabashed grin. “I feel like you’ve had that one locked and loaded for a while.”

“Totally. I just needed you to keep me out of prison before I used it. But now it’s too late for you to take back my plea bargain. Sucker.” She wrapped her arms around me again, and as I hugged her back, my brain kept on spinning. “If you do enough groveling and sincere apologizing, it might not be too late for you to win back your addiction. Usually, it’s recommended you quit those sorts of things, but you’re far worse without Willa than you are with her. Jameson and Kat will agree with me…won’t you, guys?”

My arms automatically dropped, as though having my buddy see me hug my sister was an embarrassing show of emotion. If he dared to make fun of me for being mushy right now, I’d assure him it was completely normal. And then use all the dirt I’d gathered on him for the past two decades, along with how soft he was whenever it came to Kat.

Great. My mom was with them too, peeking her head around Jameson and looking on with intense curiosity.

“In the name of transparency,” Jameson said, “it’s the real reason Kat and I insisted he come to dinner with us tonight. I offered to drive so we could ply him with liquor, in hopes that’d help him see sense, but we weren’t going to let him leave without forcing him to admit how miserable he is without Willa in his life.”

Mom thew a hand to the center of her chest. “Oh, phew. I thought Rashida and I were going to have to set up some elaborate scheme, as he’s too afraid to even go home where he might see Willa right no?—”

“Mom.” I widened my eyes at her, begging her not to mortify me like I was some teenager who was too cool for school. “I’m not afraid. I’ve been busy.”

Great. Now I had four skeptical expressions aimed in my direction.

I heard the door swing open, and while I was beginning to open myself to the idea of at least sitting down with Gil and Bobby, if they were part of this ambush, heads were going to roll.

Ben and Christiano strolled into the room, hand in hand. They glanced from person to person, and then Ben lifted his wrist to check the time. “Are we late? I’m looking at this new fancy watch from my smokin’ hot boyfriend, and I swear we’re right on time. Wasn’t the intervention supposed to happen at dinner?”

Kat glanced over her shoulder at Ben. “Evidently, Rylee started it early, without even knowing we’d planned on asking her to come along and help.”

My sister nodded, as happy as a dog with two tails over the part she’d played.

“If it pleases the court,” I said, nice and loud. My ragtag group of meddlesome family and friends seemed to forget I was accustomed to pressure-filled situations and being up against a box of dubious jurors. “All of this is hearsay.”

“You forget that we can see you.” Once again, Rylee tugged on my beard. Then she flipped the collar of my shirt, which was a bit crumpled after two days of wear. “You look awful.”

“Miserable,” Ben added, and Kat, Christiano, and Mom added their agreement.

Jameson stepped forward and clapped me on the shoulder. “You look like shit, man.” He glanced at my mom. “Pardon my language, Mrs. Fox.”

Mom gave me a consoling smile with way too much pity in the curve. “If we’re aiming for the truth, there’s not a better way to put it.”

“Gee thanks, Mom. Seriously, if you guys help much more, I’m going to have to scrape my self-esteem off the floor.”

“That’d be one big-ass shoe,” Kat muttered, not even bothering to ask to be pardoned. Everyone just chuckled, and it was definitely at, not with, me. They’d all be in contempt in a real court, but they had a point.

Being sure of myself served me well when it came to my job. But for all my cockiness when it came to handling the pressure that came along with trials, shakiness set in as the full extent of the damage I’d caused became evident.

I’d fucked up. Bad. Worse than I’d ever botched any case, any testimony, any cross-examination, any anything.

Once again, Willa’s voice filled my head. It’s about me, and what happens when I give myself over to someone I care about.

I’d been so fixated on what she told me about Bobby and Gil that I missed the other things she said during that conversation.

A song I poured my heart and soul into, and heavily features you. I’d let her leave without giving on a single point—treating her, her song, and her dreams like they didn’t matter. After all those times I’d scolded her for putting herself down and not seeing how amazing and beautiful she was, I failed to do so when it mattered most.

She’d confessed her feelings to me, and I hadn’t even realized it through the haze of my own unrighteous anger.

So much evidence pointed to me being guilty, it seemed pointless to even plead my case.

But I couldn’t not try. Not when my entire happiness was at stake. That was another part of being free I didn’t want to go the rest of my life without.

In order to have a shot in hell of getting Willa back, I was going to have to prepare the biggest closing argument I ever had in my life. I didn’t have time to do that, not without taking time I didn’t have away from the Doxon case.

Which meant I needed to make two phone calls that involved swallowing my pride before I even made it in front of the sexiest, wittiest, and most gorgeous judge I’d ever laid eyes on.