Chapter 11 Nikki
Nikki
With our hair now marinading in black dye, James and I sit together, watching the TV, eating our homemade spaghetti, the one amazing dish I can make.
I love cooking. I’m just not great at it. Years of having all meals prepared by a private chef will do that to you.
“Oh, look. It’s Dad!” James blurts, and my eyes snap to the TV that’s showing the nightly news.
“Turn it up.” I sit forward, my heart in my throat as James increases the volume.
“Titan Holdings, the US-based oil conglomerate, wrapped up its annual shareholder meeting earlier today, reporting strong financials and steady year-on-year growth. Company executives highlighted strategic expansions in shale operations and refining capabilities, attributing their performance to resilient market demand and cost efficiency. Investors reacted positively to the company’s long-term outlook, with Titan’s share price edging higher following the announcement.
“Owner and CEO Colin Titan described the fiscal year as 'a turning point' for Titan Holdings, signaling plans for increased investment in domestic infrastructure. Although his face is still solemn, as his personal life continues to weigh heavy on him. Missing now for over three months, there’s no news on his two children and their whereabouts. In what many are describing a serious turn of events, he’s also spearheaded a new department within Titan Holdings, one which reinvests into the environment, inspired by his daughter’s passion for sustainability.
It’s said that for every acre of land purchased for drilling, he’s also buying an acre of land for reforestation.
Thereby balancing his impact on the environment, aiming for net zero.
The move has caused a ripple through his competitors, further showcasing how he and Titan Energy are at the forefront and leaders in this space. ”
My breath hitches in disbelief. It was an idea I mentioned when he was pushing me to work with him.
I suggested offsetting the business footprint, knowing that he wasn’t ever going to stop drilling.
I can’t believe he’s put it in action. The recording shows Dad walking out of his New York high-rise office and getting into his waiting car, moving past the cameras quickly, head down, focused.
He looks older than I remember, with dark circles around his eyes, thinner than before, and my heart hurts for him.
I miss him, but I’m scared to go home. James and I both sit in silence, glued to the screen, as a reporter chases my dad from his building to his waiting car.
“Mr. Titan, any update for shareholders on new oil drills?”
My dad stops, and I still. He never stops. He never takes questions like this. He looks at the reporter and then looks straight at the camera.
“Kids, if you see this, please come home. I miss you.”
As he stares at us unknowingly through the TV, my eyes are glued to his, emotion rising to the surface.
“Should we call him?” James whispers, the two of us unmoving.
“I don’t know… Maribel warned us,” I remind him, and his shoulders slump.
Maribel and my dad had a secret wedding in Vegas, a month after meeting. It is the most reckless thing he’s ever done. James and I knew nothing about her until we saw it all play out in the media. Afterward, I laughed, thinking it was a joke.
Turns out, it wasn’t. That’s when things really started going downhill.
“I miss him. The old him.” My brother looks at me, sadness in his gaze reflecting mine.
“Me too.” Looking back at the TV, I search for anything more of my father. Of the man who used to laugh and joke and smile. The one who used to bring me peanut butter cups every Friday after work. That all stopped when Mom died and got worse when Maribel arrived on the scene.
Maribel wanted our father to hate us. Blaming us for anything and everything, and it worked. I thought it was jealousy. Some women are just insecure; they want their man to focus solely on them, one hundred percent of the time. I’m sure us kids were an inconvenience.
But it was more than that. She wanted his money, and the longer she was around, the more I came to see it. A lot of our family money is tied up in the business, in trusts, in banks. But mostly, in inheritance, left to James and me. And she knew that.
So she wanted us gone. Out of the picture. Wanted Dad and his money all to herself. Well, she got her wish.
“Do we need to move again?” James looks torn as he asks the dreaded question.
We both love it here. We’re literally in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by kind people who allow us to just be.
James gets to continue his education, and I can work a cash job and bring in some money, all the while spending time on little side projects that I love.
I have no endgame; I’m just taking it day by day.
“No. We’re safe. No one is looking for us here.”
He nods as I feel my heart break. My younger brother with black dye in his hair, living life like no ten-year-old should.
But he’s safe from the hands of Maribel, and that’s all that matters.
With the cottage quiet, my brother sound asleep, and the smell of hair dye still faint in my nose, I sit in the darkness of my room, my phone heavy in my hands. I’ve been sitting here, rolling it in my palm since I came to bed. The vision of Dad hasn’t left my mind since the news came on earlier.
I miss him. We both do. Seeing him not look himself, his shoulders slumped, dark circles under his eyes—broken—it shattered something inside me that I’ve been trying to hold together.
Hearing that he’s started an environmental team gives me hope.
Hope that he can change his views, that maybe, just maybe, I was the catalyst for it.
I swallow roughly, and with my heart pounding, I dial his number. The ringing in my ear is thunderously loud as I wait for him to pick up. I feel like I’m about to break out of my skin.
“Hello?” I hear a voice and end the call immediately. I’m breathless, even though I haven’t moved.
“Stupid,” I hiss at myself, then look at the time. Almost midnight. I thought it was late enough. I thought it was safe. It wasn’t. The voice at the other end wasn’t my father’s. It was Maribel’s.
“Straight home?” James asks as we grab our bikes where they’re parked at the library.
We spent some time here, researching for his project, and I scoured the non-fiction area to read up on apple trees.
I’ve decided to propagate the lonely apple tree in our yard.
I’ve never grafted a tree before, and while it will take a while to grow, what a great way to sustainably harvest our own food right on our doorstep.
Now the late morning is warmer, and I don’t want to go straight home.
I look at my brother, knowing what I’m about to say might surprise him.
“Should we go watch the school baseball team?”
His face lights up immediately. It’s unusual for us. We keep a low profile, don’t go out much, but he needs to cement his friendships. Seeing the kids outside of school is one of the ways in which he can do that.
“Are you sure?” His voice is high with anticipation. He’s never done it before. Here in Whispers or back at home.
Smiling, I shrug. “Sure, we’ll ride around the back, park the bikes, and watch for a little bit. Then we can cut through the forest and ride home.”
“Yes. Let’s do it.” He almost jumps in excitement.
It’s a nice ride in the sun and takes us no time to get to the school grounds, where we pull up and park our bikes before walking down toward the pitch.
“We’re batting!” he says eagerly, and I look around.
There’s a small group of parents huddled together, watching the game, and then a playground where other kids are playing.
Something catches my eye as I’m turning back to the game.
I see a man standing back away from the crowd, underneath some tall pines, his stature familiar.
“Is that Sutton?” James asks, and as we get closer, I spot the familiar hat.
“Why don’t you go hang in the playground and watch, and I’ll go say hi,” I suggest, knowing he needs a bit of freedom, and without needing any more encouragement, he races off.
I walk down to where Sutton is standing, head lowered and hands in the pockets of his jacket, obviously trying to remain inconspicuous as he watches one of his nephews play baseball.
“Hey, you,” I say softly.
He looks up, startled, then his mouth curves into a wide grin, the surprise and happiness at seeing me instant, making me feel warm all over.
“Hey. Where’d you come from?”
“James and I just finished at the library. It was too nice of a morning just to go home. I know he needs more friends and closer connections, so I thought coming here for a bit might help.”
At that, we both look over at the playground and see James running around with a few other kids.
Smiling, he nods. “Looks like it was the right call.”
Seeing James laugh and play, my shoulders lower.
“Your eye is looking better.” His gaze moves over me, like he’s checking for any other injuries.
“Yep, I’m brand new.”
“Your hair’s darker?” he observes, and I run my hand over my long hair.
“Yeah. It needed to be freshened up.” I hide any sadness I have from making my blond tresses darker with a fake grin. “Got to hide those grays,” I lie through my teeth. Noticing James running around, I take the opportunity to change the subject.
“Odd, he usually only runs that fast when Rochelle’s cupcakes are up for grabs.”
“Food must be a universal motivator. My nephew, Kevin, demanded pancakes before the game, half a stack minimum.”
I laugh lightly, loving seeing this casual side of Sutton.
“Sounds like he knows where to find the good stuff. Let me guess… you’re the indulgent uncle with questionable boundaries?” I raise an eyebrow in jest, but my grin is genuine.
Sutton makes an act of clutching pearls at his neck. “Ouch. I prefer ‘supportive with flair.’ Though I think James just tried a backflip in the playground, so you might be the one raising a daredevil.”
“Daredevils we are not.” I shake my head, looking down at the playground again, wondering how I feel so at ease with the man next to me.
“Oh, Kevin is up.”
My head whips to the field as Sutton stands taller, looking intently at the game. I can tell he wants to cheer, but he can’t, not wanting to draw attention to himself.
“He looks confident,” I say, hoping that one day James can maybe join a team like that.
“He’s a great little player. Sawyer is part owner of The Mets, so he’s had a few clinics with the pros and learned a few things.”
“I haven’t been to a game since my dad had season tickets right behind home plate.
The ones with the valet and the private sushi chef.
Spoiled me for stadium peanuts forever.” As soon as the last word leaves my lips, I slap my hand over my mouth.
Sutton looks at me quickly; meanwhile, we both miss Kevin’s hit as the ball flies over the field and he gets a home run.
The only way we can tell is from all the shouts of excitement we can hear from the crowd.
“Season tickets, eh?” he says with lifted eyebrows. My heart is pounding so hard I feel sick. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anybody.” Even when Sutton winks at me, I’m still frozen, shock taking over me as my hands start to shake.
“Hey, hey.” Shaking his head, he speaks with a gentle tone, his brow now furrowed.
“I mean it. Your secrets are not mine to share.” He reaches for my hand, removing it from my face.
Bringing it down to my side, he holds it in his, not letting me go.
My shortness of breath is now not just due to shock, but also the heat that travels through my body at the feeling of his touch.
“Sorry.” I clear my throat, wondering what the hell is wrong with me. I should’ve cycled straight home. Of course the one time I deviate from our usual plan, things get messy.
Sutton still doesn’t let go of my hand. Not yet. His thumb brushes the inside of my wrist once, his touch barely there, and I melt a little. It feels nice. Too nice. The kind of feeling you get when you want more. It’s been a long time since I felt the touch of a man like this.
A whistle blows from the field, and we both turn, grateful for the distraction. Kevin’s coach is waving him over, while James has collapsed into a giggling pile of dirt with two other boys.
“You know, if you ever want a fresh start that isn’t just a new hair color… I’m good at disappearing. Could give you a few tips.”
I raise my eyebrow. “Disappearing’s easy. It’s the reappearing that’s hard.”
“Maybe the trick isn’t hiding. Maybe it’s finding the right person to show up for.”
I think about that statement long after the game ends. Feeling them to my core as a flutter builds in my chest. When Sutton finally lets go of my hand, I don’t just miss his touch, but the unspoken support I felt in his grip.