Chapter 24
ALLIE
I’m just stepping out of the shower when I hear a knock on the door. Quickly toweling off my wet hair, I throw on a pair of boy shorts and a Rancid T-shirt.
When I get to the front door, I look through the peephole. Gray eyes stare back at me. I unlock the deadbolt and the bottom lock before opening the door to a grumpy-looking Nate. Or maybe that’s just his normal face. It’s hard to tell with him.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” I drawl.
He looks me up and down, his hard eyes landing on my bare thighs before he quickly looks back up and sighs. “Allie, we’ve talked about you answering your door naked.”
“I’m not naked.” All the important parts are covered. Including the areas where Ashton left marks, thankfully. I definitely don’t want to have that conversation.
Nate mumbles something under his breath, but I can’t make it out.
“What was that?”
“You’re never gonna listen.”
“Nope. It’s a good thing I don’t have to listen to you.” I pretend to look at my nails. “Or anyone.”
Nate shakes his head and gestures to the entryway. “Can I come in?”
I open the door wider. Nate has been to my house maybe a hundred times, and he still waits to be invited in every single time.
“Could you put some clothes on?” he asks as he makes his way into the living room.
“I have clothes on.”
“You are such a brat,” he mutters, to which I smile and head into the kitchen.
“Coffee?” I call out.
“No, thank you. I’ve had four espressos already.”
It’s a pretty well-known fact that Nate Caldwell doesn’t drink or do drugs of any kind, except for caffeine. He drinks coffee like it’s water. I’m pretty sure the man doesn’t sleep.
I pour myself a cup, splashing some vanilla creamer in. I love watching the white swirl melt into the dark brown liquid. I add a scoop of chocolate powder and stir it before taking a sip, the warmth sliding down my throat.
“How was last night?” Nate asks as I walk around the kitchen island. I’m not sure if he’s referring to my birthday or Declan’s party. He knows it was my birthday, but like Emory, he also knows not to bring it up.
“Fine,” I say noncommittally.
“Just fine?” He arches a brow. I swear to God if Emory told him about me and Ashton, she’s going to get an earful. Not that he doesn’t already know something is up after our confrontation in his gym.
I step into the living room, setting my coffee mug on the table by the couch. “Why don’t you just say whatever it is you came here to say and stop playing games, Nathan?”
Nate clenches his jaw, his boot tapping on the hardwood floor. He hates being called by his full name almost as much as I do.
“Okay,” he says, folding his arms across his chest. “What’s going on with you and Ashton?”
“Why? Jealous?” I tease.
Nate uncrosses his arms and drops his head into his hands. “Why do I even bother?”
“Because you love me,” I say, plopping down next to Nate and taking another large gulp of my coffee.
“I thought Emory gave me headaches.”
“Do you have a point you’re going to arrive at any time soon or…”
“Em said you took off with Ash last night at the party, and she hasn’t heard from you since.”
I look down into my mug, the tan liquid rippling as I adjust my legs on the couch.
I definitely should have texted Emory that I was leaving to take Ashton home, but she would have had so many questions.
And then I got distracted. When I got home last night, the first thing I did was find my stash of xannies and flush them.
I haven’t needed them in weeks anyway. Then I crashed without even taking my makeup off, all of the emotional exhaustion of the day finally hitting me.
“Allie?” Nate prompts again.
“We’re hooking up,” I admit. “Or we were. I don’t know now. We sort of had a fight.”
Nate immediately stands, balling his fists like he’s about to kick someone’s ass.
“Calm down, caveman. It was nothing.”
“Did he hurt you?” His voice is calm but demanding.
“No.” I mean, he did, but it’s complicated, and I doubt Nate would understand. We’ve both hurt each other.
“I’ve already warned him what would happen if he hurt you.”
I narrow my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Nate, I can take care of—”
“Yourself,” he finishes for me. “I know.”
“Then stop threatening people.” I grab a throw blanket from the side of the couch and drape it over myself. “Emory was right. You need a woman.”
“I get plenty of women,” he scoffs.
“No, I mean like a girlfriend. Someone to…focus your attention on, so it’s not always on us.”
Nate’s eyes soften. There’s no longer irritation there.
It almost looks like sadness now. Nate had a girlfriend in college, but he never talks about her.
He kept her hidden from his family when they were dating.
Emory never even met her. Then one day, Nate came home even more hardened than usual.
He never talked about what happened, and we never asked.
“Do you still think about her?” The sound of my voice breaks through the silence. Nate’s head snaps up, his eyes stormy. I think he’s going to lie to me or ignore my question altogether, but instead, he dips his head.
“Yes.”
That’s the first time we’ve ever openly spoken about the fact that there was a her.
I nod, shuffling my feet in the blanket. Nate’s chest rises and falls. His breathing is calm and even, but his expression is anything but.
“My dad left us when I was a baby,” I blurt out. Nate looks slightly confused by the subject change, but he doesn’t say anything.
“I guess that explains my trust issues.” I let out a humorless laugh. “Then my mom had a string of pretty fucked-up relationships.”
That’s putting it mildly.
Nate doesn’t look at me with pity or judgment. He just listens.
“Anyway, I’ve known some bad men in my life, and you’re not one of them. Whatever happened with her…it wasn’t your fault. You’re overprotective and annoying as fuck, but you also care deeply. You’re one of the good ones, Nate, and you deserve to find love. I just thought you should know that.”
When I finish speaking, he shifts in his seat and I realize his eyes are shining with unshed tears.
My heart breaks a little at the sight. I’ve never seen Nate cry.
I’m willing to bet most people think he’s an insensitive asshole.
He certainly likes to portray himself that way, but the truth is, he’s human just like the rest of us.
Just like me. I guess Nate and I are cut from the same cloth.
We both lost parents at a young age. We both took on too much responsibility too soon—grew up too quickly.
As a result, we lost our childhood innocence before we should have.
Nate blinks and clears his throat. “Thank you,” he whispers. “You know you do, too.”
I nod but don’t say anything. I don’t want to ruin the moment by admitting that I’m actually a giant hypocrite, and while I think he shouldn’t give up on love, I’ve already slammed the door shut on the possibility for myself.
Instead, we sit in comfortable silence for a few moments before he turns to me.
“Have you ever thought about finding him?”
“My dad?”
“Yes. I know it’s a completely different circumstance, but if there were any way I could talk to my mom one more time…”
Nate and Emory’s mother died when they were both pretty young. He’s right. It is completely different. She had no choice in leaving them. My father walked out on us of his own volition without so much as a note. Still…
“I think about finding him every day,” I answer his earlier question. “I wouldn’t know how to start or even if I would want to meet him. I have so many questions, but I’m not sure hearing the answers would change anything. You know?”
This isn’t the first time I’ve had this conversation.
The last time I did was so painful I ran.
“I understand,” Nate says. “But if you want help, let me know. I can have an address and phone number within an hour.”
I laugh at his dramatic delivery. Nate works at his father’s cybersecurity company and can get information on pretty much anyone. It’s not that I haven’t thought about asking him to find my dad. The truth is I’m scared. Maybe not knowing is better than having my heart broken all over again.
“Thanks,” I say. “I’ll let you know.”
Nate nods his head once and stands up just as there’s another knock on the door. He throws me a look, and I walk in front of him. “What? I’m a popular girl.”
Stepping into the entryway, I don’t bother looking through the peephole. If it’s a kidnapper, Nate will have him in a chokehold before I finish opening the door.
I run my eyes over the man standing before me.
His white shirt clings to his body, showing off the definition beneath.
He’s wearing dark jeans and a backward baseball cap, little bits of soft light brown hair spilling out of the front.
My eyes catch on his hands, his muscles flexing slightly as he holds two pints of mint chocolate chip ice cream.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi.”
That’s when Nate squeezes past me. He kisses my cheek and gives Ashton a curt nod. “Let me know if you change your mind,” he says to me as he walks to his car.
As soon as I hear his engine start, I turn back to Ashton, and it occurs to me what that could have looked like to him. It probably doesn’t help that I’m standing here in nothing but a T-shirt and underwear.
“It’s not—we didn’t—” I start.
“Can we talk?” he interrupts me.
I move away from the door, granting him access.
“I brought you apology ice cream,” he states, placing the containers down on the kitchen island before wiping the condensation off on his pants.
I eye the containers. Of course, he got the name-brand kind, not the one with the “chocolate-style” chips. Mom always got the name-brand kind for my birthday. Even though she usually had to work, she did try to make it special in her own little way.
“How did you know my favorite?” I ask, circling the top of the container with my finger, my eyes avoiding his.
“Emory,” we both say at the same time.