16. 16 Nathan
16: Nathan
I t’s our final day volunteering at the Missarali City Animal Shelter.
I didn’t think I’d care about leaving when I first arrived, but after four visits, I’m actually going to miss Mr No Name—or Radish, as Mae’s now called him.
The workers loved it, and they even changed his name on file and created a little makeshift sign to tape to his kennel.
“She’s impressive,” Poppy remarks, nodding towards Mae, who is completing a five-point check-up on one of the dogs. The shelter is supposed to conduct these every few weeks, but they’ve fallen behind since the vets are busy on some training course.
“What do you mean?” I quietly question as I watch Mae peer into the dog’s ear, using the torch on her phone to light the dark abyss.
“With animals.”
I dip my chin in a nod.
I understand why Mae has a deep affection for animals. They embody a sense of innocence, untouched by the complexities of the world. They don’t judge based on wealth, height, weight or skill—they simply love.
She’s going to be a great veterinarian nurse. Any practice will be lucky to have someone with such passion join their team.
My smile drops from my face.
“Are you going to miss your little friend?” Bennett laughs as Radish bounces up to me.
“You know what?” I scratch the top of his head. “I will.”
I know Radish will go to a good home, though. He’s a loving and energetic dog that will make a great family pet. I’m sure when he gets his chance to shine, he’ll flourish.
“I’ll miss you, buddy.” Mae cups Radish’s face for the final time and presses a kiss to his wet nose, a bark escaping his mouth as he watches her grab her coat and bag.
I think I see her eyes coat with tears, but she keeps her head low as we exit the animal shelter for the final time.
It’s spitting with rain, and the clouds above are grey and gloomy, the air frigid.
“Looks like a storm is on its way,” Bennett groans.
“Scared of a little thunder, Quinn?” my sister teases, and Bennett glares at her.
“Who are you? Lightning McQueen?”
They head to their separate cars, leaving Mae and I alone.
I should say something.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” she responds. “I can’t allow myself to get attached to every animal I care for. Otherwise, I’ll end up wanting to bring them all home.”
I can tell she’s playing her feelings for Radish down, but if there’s something I’ve learned about Mae, it’s that she doesn’t enjoy being vulnerable. It’s not the norm for her. Discussing her anxiety about performing yesterday must have been hard, and yet she did. With me.
“Are you having a stroke? What are you looking at?” she volleys at me, her voice is light and airy.
I clear my throat, realising I’ve been staring. She’s wearing those damn jeans she was in when I first saw her in Emmanuel’s store, and fuck… it’s testing me. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the meeting,” I say before I embarrass myself.
She drops her brows and turns to her car, and I watch her—because it’s an excuse to stare at her ass—before starting my Audi and turning my heated seat on.
As I exit the parking lot, rain cascades heavily, splattering against my windscreen. Given the slick roads, I keep my speed well below the limit.
The wind is fierce, forcing me to grip the wheel tightly, worried I might be blown off the road, but when I glance in the rear-view mirror and see Mae stepping out of the parking lot in the heavy rain, I hit the brakes, almost skidding to a halt.
“What the hell is she doing?” I mutter to myself as I head back toward the shelter. I pull up alongside her and undo my window. She’s already drenched, her hair clinging to her forehead like dark ribbons, her knitted sweater hanging heavily with droplets dripping from the hem. Her arms are wrapped around her midsection as she walks, feet gliding through puddles with swift steps.
“Mae! What the fuck are you doing?” I call over the pounding rain, and she cocks her head.
She can barely hear me.
I immediately fling open my passenger door and hike my thumb towards it. “Get in.”
“I’ll get your seat all wet. It’s fine, I can walk,” is her response, and I curse under my breath.
If she thinks I’m going to let her walk home in this, then she’s dead wrong.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and step out of my car, the icy rain hitting my skin, the sensation feeling like pinpricks. It’s a sudden shock compared to the warmth of my car.
“Mae Bexley, get in the fucking car now, or I’ll make you get in.”
She gives me a look that could freeze the precipitation into ice.
Her ankle is still tender, and walking home will take her forever. I’ll drive alongside her the entire way just to make sure she gets home safely if she’s that adamant about not getting in the car with me.
I raise my eyebrows, my jaw set, and eventually, Mae releases her stubbornness and mutters, “Okay, fine,” before rushing around the front of my vehicle to clamber in.
“Why the hell are you walking in a storm? People can get hit by lightning, you know? It’s rare, but it happens,” I say as I buckle myself up, eyes trained on her.
Mae looks at me like I’m crazy. “My rental car is like a million years old. It won’t start.”
The precipitation drums against the car's roof, and it only worsens. I give Mae one last concerned look before I begin to drive.
She’s shivering, and I turn on her heated seat.
The car sways with each gust of wind. Thunder rumbles above us as a warning, and after a few seconds, a flash of lightning lights up the darkening sky. My windshield wipers are working on overdrive, and it surprises me they don’t snap off.
The road’s a blur in front of us and visibility is nearly zero as we creep along it—the street having turned into a treacherous river.
“It’s too dangerous with all this rain. I’m going to have to pull over.” I turn down a barely-used side road, putting the car into park.
“We’ll have to wait for the worst of it to pass.” I scrub a hand over my stubble.
This isn’t where I should be right now. Sitting just inches away from Coach Renee’s daughter, feeling like all I want to do is make her mine for the evening. Nobody would see. Nobody would know.
How is this woman torturing me without even knowing it?
The lightning outside illuminates her face, accentuating her white scar, and I can’t help but focus on it for a few seconds too long before I realise what I’m doing and stop.
Mae notices it clearly, swallowing before her finger subconsciously glides over the scar's surface. She appears ready to speak, evident by her softly parted lips and shallow breath.
But she doesn't.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask as rain beats down on the hood of my car, creating a rhythm that feels almost like a heartbeat, syncing with the pounding in my chest.
She shifts in her damp seat. “I just need to know… why did you pay for the wine for me that day in the store?”
My teeth snap together. I don’t want to explain this to her, mostly because I don’t fully understand why I did it myself—other than the fact that seeing her pretty face so troubled when the bottle broke made my insides strain.
I wanted to help her. And I don’t feel that way often.
Which is what fucking irks me.
“I don’t know.”
Mae scowls. “That’s not an answer, Nathan.”
My eyebrows collapse. “Why do you need an answer?”
“Well, because that guy didn’t know me, and not only did he pay for my mistake, but he falsely admitted to being the one to make it, too.” She raises her head high. “When I joined the squad, you could barely even look at me. You were considerably different to that guy. You’re only just starting to tolerate me now.”
The storm outside mirrors the whirlwind of emotions brewing inside me, and my chest expands as I breathe. “What do you want me to say, Mae?”
She shakes her head. “You put on this big boy act, but that person in the wine store that day—that was the real you. Helping someone struggling with no expectation for something in return. Paying and walking out without so much as an explanation because you wanted to help. It made you feel good. I saw it. You’re not as cold as you try to perceive yourself to be, Nathan.”
My eyes are hard as they refuse to break from her determined face.
She’s so incredibly bold and outgoing, and, at the same time, compassionate and sensitive. They’re the very qualities I admire in a person—traits I was never exposed to while growing up.
I clench my fists by my side as lightning strikes again, a streak of light flashing over her face. She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts. Too beautiful for her own good. For my own good. Because all I want to do is say fuck the contract and kiss her.
She sees me for who I am—or who I want to be—and even when I showed her nothing but disregard, she still gave me the benefit of the doubt.
But my contract with the Storks is all I have. The only thing that gives me purpose.
“Emmanuel, the owner, is a friend of mine,” I state.
“That doesn't explain taking the fall. You could have paid and left it at that, but instead, you claimed that you’d dropped the wine.”
“I invited you into my car to get you out of the rain, not to quiz me on my past decisions, princess.” I’m deflecting, but I don’t know what to say.
Does she want me to admit that seeing her all flustered and frustrated in Emmanuel’s store that day bothered me?
That just her laugh had made me feel things that had been dormant for years?
That I all I want to do is bend her over in this car and fuck the questions right out of her?
“Fine.” Mae drags her bottom lip into her mouth, her finger picking at the skin as she remains quiet for a moment too long. “My father did it.”
“What?”
“My scar,” she says. “You look at it a lot.”
My heart skips a beat, heavy like lead in my chest. I’d thought I’d at least been subtle with it. But perhaps I’m not as slick as I think I am. “Your father?”
“He didn’t mean to.” Her face falters. “I mean, he did, but he also didn’t. He was in the military but was discharged after being diagnosed with PTSD. He would have blackouts where he’d freak out, and even though we’d try to calm him down, it never really worked. He threw a vase at my head, and it cut me. I had to get stitches.”
I blink a few times. “Where is he now?”
Mae shrugs. “Hurting me was the final straw for him. He left because he thought it wasn’t safe for us, but he promised to come back when he was better. Haven’t heard from him in years.”
Her voice doesn’t crack as she talks. It’s almost like she’s prepared herself for this moment. Prepared herself to be strong and stoic. But her eyes tell me something very different. The sadness in them… it’s not just in the past. It’s something that’s still haunting her, still living inside. My heart hurts for her.
“And you have no idea if he’s still in the country?”
“I have no idea if he’s even alive anymore.” Mae rubs at her nose, but she doesn’t cry.
Cam had mentioned she’d had a tough childhood, but at the time, I’d assumed it was linked to how her mother treated her. Then, when Poppy asked about her father that day in her apartment, and I saw the way Mae began to spiral mentally, I knew there was more to the story.
Mae’s expression suggests she’s not used to saying this aloud, so I ask, “Have you talked to your family about it?”
“No, not really. My mom blames him for joining the military in the first place, and Cam and I don’t discuss it often. I think he believes he’s dead, but I can’t give up like that.”
“Military men are tough. They don’t give up easily, especially when a family is waiting for them. I think it’s admirable you aren’t assuming the worst.”
Evan’s father was in the military. He died in action, but he always has incredible stories to tell about his father. There was nothing that he loved more than his family.
“It used to really bother me.” Mae points to the scar. “I know it’s not overly noticeable now, but I spent so much money on creams and ointments to try and fade it because of how ashamed I was when it first happened. I thought it was ugly.”
That’s like a slap in the face. “The word ugly and you don’t even belong in the same sentence, Mae.”
She rolls her eyes.
“No, don’t do that roll-your-eyes-thing you do whenever someone tries to compliment you,” I tell her, waiting until she’s looking at me. “I never want to hear you thinking of yourself that way. Because it’s not true.”
She twists her lip to the side before smiling, hazel eyes glistening as they dart all over my face, ending on my lips. But only for a second.
I clear my throat to cut the silence, breaking eye contact. “I’m sorry you went through all that. It’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t sometimes, but if it was fair all the time, I think it would be pretty damn boring.”
She’s trying to break the heaviness with humour, and I can’t blame her for it.
A small smile graces her lips, and I follow her action. “I appreciate you telling me that.”
I long to have the confidence she possesses as my mind flashes with memories from my own childhood.
The sheer amount of empty bottles filling the trash.
The slurred words.
The tape.
The police sirens.
The realisation that my efforts had failed.
I frown while looking through the car's windshield. The rain has eased up slightly, improving visibility, and after starting the car, I manoeuvre back onto the road.
“I don’t just tolerate you, by the way.”
Mae releases a small laugh, pressing her lips together to stifle her growing smile as she stares out the window.
I’m not just saying it to make her feel better, though.
Because I really am way past tolerating her.