21. 21 Mae
21: Mae
“ T hanks again, Mae!” Sheila from the Missarali City Animal Shelter says as she takes Radish’s leash from my hand. He’s worn out from our hour-long walk across the fields, ensuring we stayed away from the farmer and his crops this time.
I missed him too much to never come back, so I’ve offered to volunteer twice a week for as long as I’m in the city.
Radish has had a few potential adopters turn their noses up at him. Even though he’s a boisterous character, he doesn’t show much interest in anyone who comes to meet him.
I told the centre that it’s his way of letting them know they weren’t suitable adopters for him.
I give Radish a gentle boop on his damp nose as a farewell before leaving the shelter—the rental place repaired my car free of charge. The crackly radio plays a song from one of our cheerleading routines, and I mentally run through the moves, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment that Sophia’s now back from her honeymoon, which means I don’t need to take her place any longer.
She bought me a big box of chocolates to show her gratitude for stepping up while she was gone, and I invited Flo over to my place to indulge in them over a hefty glass of wine.
My mother adores Sophia. I think she sees her as the daughter she never had, which stings when I’m right here in front of her. But comparing myself to others doesn’t help me when my mom does it enough for both of us.
Sophia is Sophia.
And I’m me.
I’m perfectly fine with that.
As I step into the house, my mom’s floral perfume hits me. She stands in the kitchen with her hands on her hips, the setting sun rays streaming through the window behind her.
“I’ve been watching back the last two performances without Sophia,” she says as she prepares herself a green tea—the kind I think tastes like swamp water. But she enjoys its health benefits.
“Okay.”
“You were out of time for the final eight counts.”
I roll my eyes. Trust Renee Bexley to flip something I’ve done that I’m proud of and turn it into something negative. But she’s not the glass-is-half-full kind of woman.
“I don’t think I was half bad for a rookie who only agreed to do this last minute because she lost her job.”
My mother stirs her tea. “That’s what Sophia said.”
“Wait, what?”
She cocks her head, but her eyes linger on me with faux surprise. “Sophia. She agreed that you—”
“No, no.” I hold my hands up to stop her. “I heard what you said. Did you just tell me that you told Sophia I lost my job?”
My mother feigns innocence. “Yes? Is that a problem?”
Betrayal rockets through me. I hadn’t asked much from my mother, but the one thing I’d requested was to keep the fact that I’d been let go from my job to herself, and she’d agreed. I thought we had come to a mutual understanding that we wouldn’t reveal that information to anyone.
“Why?”
I rarely feel embarrassed, but knowing the cheerleading squad know that, at the age of twenty-five, I had to depend on Mommy to rescue me from a tough spot makes me want the ground to swallow me whole.
No doubt the word has spread.
If Poppy knows, then it won’t be long until Nathan finds out, too.
He’s going to think I’m a mess.
“What’s your problem?” I bite, snatching my bag from the table and pulling my coat on. “I’m here, helping your squad. Why do you continue to try and make things difficult for me?”
My mother sets her mug down a little too harshly, the green liquid sloshing over the side onto the granite countertop. “Mae, please, not everything is about you. Don’t be so self-centred.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend you haven’t been trying to hurt me. You continuously treat me like crap, and I’ve been nothing but nice to you.” I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry you lost Dad, okay? I’m fucking sorry, but I did too. And it’s neither one of our faults. But I don’t know why you’re trying to torment me as if this is some kind of punishment. I’m your fucking daughter.”
My mother releases a small scoff. She’s shocked at my outburst, and I swear I see the tiniest glimmer of guilt flash in her eyes before she covers it up. “Sometimes I really don’t understand how you think, Mae. What do you want me to say, hmm? That I’m sorry? That I want us to build bridges and work this out?” She pauses, a blank look masking her face. “Well, I’m not going to.”
My chest is tight, and I feel physically sick. My bottom lip is wobbling, and I drop my eyes in disbelief.
My mother is a master gaslighter, and I don’t understand how my father tolerated her for so long. They’re nothing alike.
“Nothing?” I ask her, shaking my head in disbelief. “You feel nothing?” My hands shake, and a chill wracks my spine. I don’t want to be here. I feel like I can’t breathe.
My mother stares at me, blinking and turning her back to me.
Like she always does.
Before I cry in front of her, I leave the house. I don’t know where I’m going, but I need to get far away from her.
Does she really hold that much resentment towards me just because I couldn’t give her the carbon copy of herself as a daughter? Just because I had a better relationship with my father than with her? Just because I couldn’t be her version of successful?
I know she still loves Dad deep down. I know she’s hurt, but we all are.
And she has the nerve to call me self-centred.
Tears leak from my eyes as I drive, and I wipe at my nose, cursing myself for allowing myself to crumble. But I’ve been bottling it up for so long it’s taking over. Consuming me. Bleeding into every cell in my body. It feels impossible to think about anything else.
I stare at my white knuckles as my hands clutch the steering wheel tighter, the metal groaning under the weight. What’s this car made of? Tissue paper?
Poppy’s with her mother tonight, Flo’s seeing a movie with her work colleagues and Cam’s on a date, so I either drive around aimlessly all night or see if Nathan’s busy.
My mind is whirling a mile a minute, and I drive to his house before I can talk myself out of it.
Sitting with my thoughts momentarily, I gaze out into the darkness towards his gated residence. I grab my things and buzz, swallowing my shame.
There’s no response, though, and I rest my forehead against the white brick for a few seconds before I shake my head.
Coming to Nathan’s house was a stupid idea.
But then I hear the click of the speaker, and Nathan says, “If you’re another cold caller, I swear to God—”
“Um, sorry, I just…” My voice trails off.
“Mae?”
The black iron gate immediately begins to swing open. My shoes click against the rocky path as I walk towards his front door, eyes wide as Nathan opens it with a downturned mouth and a worrisome crease between his eyebrows.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him as I stand on his porch, my voice wavering. “I—I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” I don’t know what I look like, but I have no doubt my cheeks are flushed, and my eyes are glassy.
“Come here.” He opens his arms for me, and I hurry into them, burying my face into his chest.
I shouldn’t be here—crying into Nathan Slater’s chest. But I can’t find a cell in my body that cares about the contract right now. My world is disintegrating around me, and the only thing stopping it is having Nathan’s arms around me.
“Tell me what happened. Seeing you cry is killing me.” His finger tilts my chin up, his frown emphasising when he gets a better look at my tear-streaked face. I fucking hate crying in front of people, and I feel like an idiot right now.
He leads me away from the chill of the open door.
“I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing,” I sniffle.
“Never apologise for having feelings, Mae.” Nathan crouches in front of me as I sit on his couch. “Now, there’s got to be a good reason you came to me, of all people.” He chuckles.
Him of all people? Does he not realise what he does to me?
“My mom—she hates me.” I attempt to calm my racing heart. I’m unsure if Nathan already knows, but I don’t want him to hear this through the grapevine. I want it to come from me. “The reason I came to Missarali was because I lost my job.”
His face is blank, and he just nods, not an ounce of judgment staining his features.
“The company couldn’t afford to keep me any longer, which meant I couldn’t afford to stay in Colorado, so I had to move back here. But my mom only agreed to have me if I joined the cheerleading squad for the season. We agreed to keep it between us, but she told Sophia, and now I’m really fucking embarrassed.”
Nathan is silent for a few seconds before he says, “Well, it’s no surprise that your mom wanted something in return for having you stay with her.”
“I don’t get it. I understand I’m not the daughter she wants, but why would that make her hate me? I thought love for a child was unconditional.”
“Some people just aren’t supposed to be parents.”
It’s true. My mother’s never been overly maternal. But she got worse when my father left. I often think that he was the one who pushed to have children.
“It’s not a reflection of you, though. You need to remember that, okay?” Nathan cocks his head at me, waiting for an answer, and I nod doubtfully. “Just because you love the ocean doesn’t mean you have to drown in it, Mae.”
My heart throbs at the comment, realising how true it is. I love my mother. She’s my flesh and blood, but she makes it hard to breathe, and I deserve to respire painlessly.
I know when it’s time to let someone go, but it still kills me inside.
“I’m a big believer in choosing your family,” he continues. “Just because she was born your mom doesn’t mean she has to stay.”
It’s logic I haven’t had the strength to try to process yet.
“Everyone on the cheerleading squad probably knows now.”
Nathan shrugs. “And who cares? So, your previous company failed to see your potential? That’s their loss. I’ve seen the way you are around animals, Mae. You love them. Unconditionally. You want to help them because it makes you feel good. That’s the kind of person you are. You’re selfless.” He pushes a strand of hair away from my face. “Never lose that. It’s your gift.”
More tears fall from my eyes as I smile, realising how close we are. My eyes flick down to his lips, and I stare at them. I’m feeling vulnerable right now, and I don’t give a fuck if Nathan knows I want him.
“I can’t, princess,” he says, sighing, his eyes trained on me. Intense and strained. “Not when you’re like this. I want you to have a clear head if it happens again.”
If. I don’t like that word.
I swallow and nod. I fully understand why he doesn’t want to kiss me right now. Emotions are high.
He huffs, grinding his teeth together in frustration as he cups my cheeks. A torn groan slips past his lips as he drops his forehead down onto my thigh. “Trust me, I want to kiss you, Mae. But I want you to focus on processing your emotions right now. Not distracting yourself from them.”
“No, I get that. Thank you.”
“If you still want to kiss me after that, though, I’d happily oblige.”
I smile, hand running through his hair, gently tugging at the strands. Nathan sighs in contentment. “Just as I thought,” I say.
He lifts his head. “What?”
“Your hair. It’s soft. Just as I thought.”
A nervous, perplexed laugh rumbles from his chest as he shakes his head. “You’re a little weirdo.”
Nathan and I spend the next hour watching TV in silence, his arm wrapped around me and my head on his chest. My previously tense muscles relax, much like my mind.
I’ve never felt so comfortable in someone’s presence before—as if they just fully get me. Want the best for me. No matter what.
The silence isn’t awkward. It’s just what I need. It gives me time to sift through my emotions and gather my thoughts without being clouded with my need for Nathan. Having him beside me is enough right now.
But guilt floods me when I realise the time. I straighten myself. “Oh, shit. I didn’t know it was so late. You’re probably tired. I should go.”
“You’re going back to her?” Nathan scows. “No. Not when you’re in this state of mind. Absolutely not. I don’t want you around that.”
Without another word, he grips my hand and leads me to his simplistic, blue bedroom, the scent of musk and lemon whirling around me. It looks precisely how I imagined it would—because I’ve imagined it many times—and he pulls a jersey from his chest of drawers.
I take it from him, my fingers skating over the soft red and white fabric, arching my eyebrow when I read the name Slater embroidered on the back.
“Would you prefer something else?”
I chuckle. But I know the humour doesn’t reach my eyes because of the look Nathan gives me. It’s full of compassion and worry.
Entering the bathroom, I change, using his spare toothbrush.
Logic is long gone from my mind. But there’s something satisfying about staying here with Nathan. It’s almost a little fuck you to my mother because I know she’d probably sprout a second head if she knew I was here with her most-hated football player right now. Wearing his jersey. About to sleep in his bed. Fantasising about him making me feel good.
Would he push me away if I were to roll closer to him right now? Touch him?
There are so many people who are hot in this world. But Nathan Slater is on another level, and not just because of his looks. The way he cares for me makes my stomach twist. The area between my legs throb. I’ve never felt this out of control around someone before.
All I can hear is my heartbeat as we lay next to each other, our legs inches apart. My throat is dry, and even though I attempt to swallow, I can’t. Our breathing syncs up, and I can tell Nathan wants to say something by how his eyebrows pinch together and his lips part, fingers tapping against his shirtless chest.
“My mother died. Suicide.” I look at him with surprise as he shuts his eyes tightly, then opens them a few moments later, his chest rising as he takes a breath. “She struggled with an alcohol addiction.”
I can tell he’s extremely uncomfortable. His jaw is so tight it looks like the bone is going to burst through the flesh.
“Nathan, what are you doing?” I ask him as I sit up, my head shaking slightly. The last thing I want him to do is open up to me if it’s excruciating for him.
“Helping you not to feel so alone,” is his response before he hushes me. “It’s why I don’t drink. I can’t stand the stuff. I also know that children who grew up with a parent who had an addiction are more likely to develop one themselves, and I don’t want to take that risk. I was thirteen when I stormed into Emmanuel’s store to demand he stop selling my mother alcohol. We’d just moved here. He agreed immediately, even though it would hurt his business, and we've been close ever since.”
Nathan has never mentioned his mother, but I always wondered if she was in the picture. It hits me hard—the pain he’s carried since childhood. The grief he must feel every day.
He hides it all so well.
“I should have done more. But I was always training, leaving my mother to turn to alcohol because she was lonely. My father claimed she wanted this for me, though. She wanted to see her son succeed. It’s why I can’t quit—not until the team wins. My mother’s death can’t be for nothing.” He clears his throat but doesn’t take his eyes off me, and I place my hand on his chest.
“It’s not your fault, Nathan.”
He does nothing but hum, unconvinced. “It got to a point that all she’d talk about was alcohol. Her favourite wines. Her not-so-favourite. The cheap stuff. The expensive stuff. I know more about wine than anyone who doesn’t drink would ever need to.”
My heart stutters inside my chest.
“I still remember the day I came home from training to see police everywhere. The house was taped off. I was seventeen. It should have discouraged me. It should have made me realise I’d wasted so much time playing football instead of spending time with her, but it lit a fire under my ass instead. I’d been considering talking to her and asking what she’d think of me if I gave up football competitively, but I never got the chance.”
I’ve never seen Nathan look so broken. So lost. He’s usually a composed man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to speak his mind. But the man before me is a far cry from him.
“Listen to me, Nathan. It’s not your fault. Your mom was sick, and you were a child. She decided to take her life, and that wasn’t because of you. You can’t blame yourself. I know no one else does.” I whisper the final part, and Nathan dips his head in a nod. He studies every inch of my face, tongue skating across the front of his teeth. His nostrils flare, and he leans forward to kiss my forehead softly, making my stomach backflip.
“I’ve never told anyone other than Poppy, Bennett and Evan that before.” He runs a finger along my collarbone and down my shoulder, his eyes following the movement. “Thank you for not judging me.”
I smile at him. “I would never judge you.”
“How are you feeling?”
I contemplate for a few seconds before saying, “Better. I just needed… a cry. Thank you for letting me stay over.”
We glance at each other once more before letting our heads hit the pillows, and I feel his hand grip mine and squeeze it before he pulls the comforter up to tuck me in.
“Anytime, princess.”