Chapter 37 Maya
MAYA
Kelly’s backyard had been transformed into something aggressively festive. Streamers draped between the pergola and the fence, a folding table buckled under the weight of plates of snacks and juice boxes, and a dinosaur pinata hung from the oak tree.
“Uncle Nate! Maya!”
Jasper broke from a pack of kids and crossed the yard at a dead sprint, hitting Nate at full speed. Nate caught him without breaking stride, swinging him up and flipping him upside down while Jasper shrieked with laughter.
“Hey, buddy. Happy birthday.” Nate turned him back upright and settled him on his feet.
“I’m four now.” Jasper held up his hand, fingers splayed wide, as if four was the most important number ever. He latched onto my hand, tugging me toward the cake table. “Maya, come see my cake. The dinosaur has a hat.”
Kelly met us halfway, a streak of frosting on her cheek she clearly didn’t know about. She pulled Nate into a quick hug, then turned to me with a warmth that felt genuine and easy.
“Thank you for coming. Seriously.” She tipped her head toward Jasper, who was now pointing at the cake with both hands. “He wouldn’t stop asking. It was Maya this, Maya that, is Maya coming to my party. You’d think you invented birthdays.”
I laughed. “Well, that’s just too cute for words. I wouldn’t have missed it.”
Scott was parked in a recliner on the deck, a cushion wedged behind his lower back, his mom hovering close by. He looked like a man who’d been told to sit and stay. He raised his cup in greeting, and we waved back.
An older couple stood near the fence. The woman was perched on the edge of a lawn chair, her handbag still on her shoulder like she was ready to bolt at any second. The man stood beside her with a beer in his hand, entirely separate from the fun.
The realization hit me a second later.
I nudged Nate. “Your mom and dad, right?”
He glanced in their direction and nodded briefly, his jaw tightening as his hand landed on the small of my back. “Come on. I should go say hello.”
We crossed the grass together. Marcia spotted us first, straightening in her chair and offering a thin smile. Thornton met my gaze, and um, wow. There was no life in those eyes whatsoever.
“You remember Maya Brookes?” Nate said.
I put my hand out. “Good to see you again.”
Marcia shook it. “Of course. The Brookes girl.” Her grip was light and brief, a handshake that was already letting go before it started. “How are your parents?”
“They’re great, thanks.”
Thornton took my hand next. A firm squeeze, a single pump, and he was done with me. His eyes were already drifting back to the yard.
My stomach tightened, and I couldn’t have said why.
Nate’s hand pressed a little firmer against my back. “Right. We’re going to grab a drink.”
He steered us away, and I didn’t look back.
We fetched drinks from the cooler and fell into the easy rhythm of the party. Nate got roped into a game that involved him being tackled by a rotating cast of four-year-olds while Kelly shouted instructions nobody followed. I helped Scott’s mom set out food and chatted with a couple other parents.
It was good. Warm and loud and messy in all the ways a kid’s birthday party should be.
At some point I looked over and found Nate across the yard, mid-conversation with Scott’s dad, a kid hanging off each arm. He caught my eye and his gaze softened. A look that lasted maybe two seconds before one of the kids yanked his sleeve and he turned back.
Two seconds. That was all it took to make my pulse leap.
Get it together.
I pivoted toward the patio and scooped up a stray platter of fruit skewers from the cooler.
Making myself useful seemed like a safe bet. I carried the tray over to the main food table, giving Thornton a wide berth as I passed him. He was still lurking near the fence like a storm cloud in a polo shirt.
I was setting the platter down on the table when it happened.
Jasper and two of his friends came tearing past in a blur of party hats and sugar-fueled screaming, weaving between chairs and adults and each other with the sort of reckless speed that only small children can sustain.
One of them zagged when he should have zigged and Jasper stumbled sideways, crashing straight into Thornton’s legs.
Before I fully grasped the chaos, Thornton grabbed Jasper’s arm and yanked him upright. Hard. Hard enough that Jasper’s feet left the ground for a second, his whole body jerking like a rag doll. His little face crumpled with shock and pain and he let out a strangled cry.
Then, “What are you, fucking stupid?”
Oh. Oh my god. The look of cold fury on Thornton’s face, the nastiness, the… hatred.
He shook Jasper’s arm again.
Something inside me detonated.
“Hey!” I was across the space before I knew I was moving. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Shock flashed across his face as he dropped Jasper’s arm, right before I put my hands square on his chest and shoved.
He stumbled back a step. His eyes snapped to mine and the rage in them seared me.
His hand came up. Open-palmed, pulled back, and every cell in my body braced for impact.
A blur at the edge of my vision. The sound of footsteps, fast and heavy.
Nate’s fist connected with Thornton’s jaw.
The crack of it split the air. Thornton’s head snapped sideways. He staggered sideways before his legs gave out and he fell to the ground. Nate was already between us, his back to me, his shoulders heaving.
There was blood on Thornton’s lip and murder in his gaze as he scrabbled at the fence, trying to drag himself up.
“Stay down.”
Two words. Quiet and steady and absolutely lethal.
The music was still playing. Some bright, tinny pop song that clashed horribly with the violence of the moment. My hands shook. My breath came in short, ragged pulls. The yard had gone so quiet that the song was obscenely loud.
Everyone was staring.
Kelly was right there, Jasper in her arms, his face buried in her neck. She was pale, one hand pressed to the back of his head, and the look of devastation in her eyes burned into my brain.
Nate stood perfectly still. He towered over his father, every muscle locked, his fists still clenched at his sides.
“Nate.” Kelly’s voice was soft. Careful.
He didn’t respond.
She shifted Jasper higher on her hip and stepped forward, her free hand reaching out to touch Nate’s arm.
He flinched. Then his eyes dragged to hers, slow and unfocused, like he was surfacing from somewhere deep.
“Kelly.” His voice cracked on it.
Her chin trembled, just once, before she steadied it. “Just go, Nate.”
* * *
The truck ate up the road in silence. Nate’s hands gripped the steering wheel so hard the tendons stood out white against his skin. His jaw was set, his eyes fixed straight ahead, and he hadn’t looked at me once since we left Kelly’s yard.
I twisted my hands in my lap, my heart in my throat. Every instinct I had was screaming at me to reach for him, to touch his arm, to say something, anything, that might loosen the terrible stillness in his body. But the rigid line of his shoulders told me that was a bad idea.
The asphalt blurred by in front of us and I let him have the silence, even though it was killing me.
He pulled into my driveway and just sat there, staring through the windshield. The quiet now was worse than the drive. Heavier. Full of all the things neither of us was saying.
I took a breath. “Nate...”
“Just get out of the truck.” His voice was raw. Stripped down to nothing. “Please.”
My mind reeled, desperate to find a way through this. But there was nothing. No words, no gesture, no version of this where I got to stay.
My body screaming in protest, I reached for the door handle, pushing it open with one last look at Nate. He was granite. I got out, closed the door gently, and stood in my driveway, watching him pull out, watching his truck disappear down the street.
I walked inside on rubbery legs. The quiet was stifling. I stood in the hallway with my keys in my hand, no clue what to do next.
My phone was in my hand before I’d made a conscious decision to reach for it. I scrolled past the group chat, past Emily, past Dan, and pressed call on Dad.
He picked up on the second ring. “Hey, sweetheart.”
And just like that, I burst into tears.
It all spilled out of me. How sweet and excited Jasper was, how weird and cold Thornton had been from the moment we arrived, and then everything that happened. The grab, the words, the shove, the hand coming up, Nate’s fist. Thornton’s eyes. Kelly’s face. The silent drive home. The please.
Dad listened the way he always did. Patient and steady, letting me get all of it out before he spoke.
“Where’s Nate now?”
“I don’t know.” I wiped my face with the back of my hand, but the tears kept coming. “He dropped me home and drove off. He wouldn’t even look at me, Dad.”
A long exhale on the other end of the line. “He’s going through it, sweetheart. I don’t think he’s mad at you or anything like that, if that’s worrying you. But how about you? Are you okay?”
“I think so.” Sure, my voice was trembling, but I was hanging on.
“Do you need me to come over?”
I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “No. Just... find Nate. Please.”
“Here’s what we’re going to do.” His voice was calm and sure, the same voice that had talked me through every crisis of my life, big and small.
“I’m betting he needs some space right now, so we’ll give him a few hours of that.
If he’s not back by nine, or if no one’s heard from him, we’ll go get him. ”
“Okay.” I let out a shaky breath. “Thank you, Dad. I love you.”
“Love you too, sweetheart. Call me if you need me.”
I hung up and moved to the couch, plonking down on the cushions, my phone in my lap.
The afternoon light moved across the floor. I made tea and didn’t drink it. Picked up a book and read the same paragraph four times before putting it down. Checked my phone. No messages. Checked it again. Still nothing.
Every car that passed on the street, pulled my attention to the window. None of them slowed. None of them stopped.
The sun dipped below the tree line. The shadows stretched long across the living room and the light turned golden, then amber, then grey. I turned on a lamp. Tapped the blank screen of my phone for the hundredth time.
Nothing.
At some point I moved to the porch and sat on the front step with my arms around my knees.
Inside again. I showered. Got into my pajamas. Dried my hair. Just for something to do.
The clock on the microwave read 8:47. Thirteen minutes. Thirteen minutes and I was calling my dad, and we were going to find Nate. Wherever he was, whatever state he was in.
I was staring at my phone when a low rumble rippled on the air.
An engine. Slowing. Turning into my street.
I was at the front door before the headlights swept across the living room wall. Through the peephole, his truck pulled into the driveway and the engine cut off. For a long moment, nothing happened. Just the headlights switching off and the shape of him behind the wheel, not moving.
Then the door opened. He got out. I had my front door open before he’d taken two steps. I could have cried at the sight of him.
He was wrecked. Hollowed out. His eyes were red and his knuckles were swollen.
I took his hand and pulled him inside and led him down the hallway to my room. His hand was limp in mine, his footsteps heavy behind me.
The bedside lamp was already on, casting the room in a warm, low glow. I turned to face him and his eyes met mine for the first time since Kelly’s yard. The rawness in them stole the air from my lungs.
I swallowed hard and reached for his shirt. He let me lift it over his head without a word, his arms rising when I guided them, and I folded it and set it on the chair. His belt was next, then his jeans, unbuttoned, unzipped, eased down his hips until he stepped out of them.
I pulled the covers back. “Get in.”
He got in.
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and typed a quick text to Dad.
He’s here. He’s okay.
Then I put it face down, climbed in beside him, and turned off the lamp. My head on his chest, my arm across his stomach, my leg hooked over his. Holding him together with everything I had.
His arm came around me. Slowly, as though it cost him something.
His breathing was ragged at first. Uneven.
I pressed my palm flat against his chest. His heart hammered beneath my skin, too fast, too hard.
Remaining perfectly still, I let my thumb trace a slow line back and forth across his chest, and I waited.
Gradually, so gradually, his heartbeat slowed. His breathing deepened. The rigid tension in his body softened, one muscle at a time, until his weight sank into the mattress and his cheek came to rest against the top of my head.
I held on tighter.