Chapter 17 Nikki
Nikki
Grease slides down my hand, and I internally cringe.
This feels odd. It’s been years since I ate pizza, and I’ve never done it with my hands.
Somewhere between the side salad and grilled fish I ate every night and the times I was locked in my room without any dinner when Maribel first arrived, I didn’t get the masterclass on how to eat pizza like a normal person.
“This is amazing…” James is doing little to hide his enthusiasm, taking large bites and being messier than usual. But I smile. He’s in heaven. He loves pizza; it’s his favorite.
“Pretty good, huh?” Sutton speaks with a mouthful of food, and I pause, my body so attuned to the discipline we had at home, I’m almost waiting for my stepmother to slam her hand down on the table. I wait, and when nothing happens, I look at James, him already watching me with wide eyes.
“What? What did I say?” Sutton stops mid-bite.
“Nothing.” I gloss over it, like I do most things as he looks at me like he’s searching my soul.
His eyes burn into mine, and my thoughts go to our kiss.
It was scorching. I have no idea what came over me.
I nearly climbed him like a monkey up a tree.
It was like I’ve never been kissed before.
But to be honest, I’ve never been kissed like that before.
When his lips touched mine, I paused for the briefest of seconds before I kissed him back so feverishly that I think I almost blacked out.
“You keep staring at me like that, Tinker Bell, and we might have a problem,” he says quietly, so only I can hear him, before I blink, coming back to myself.
I pick up a second piece of pizza, pushing my thoughts aside.
He’s a movie star, here hiding just like I am, but with plans to go back and be in the spotlight again. Me? I want to burrow further down.
It was stupid. Shouldn’t have happened. I can’t kiss a movie star.
I can’t get close to anyone, and I certainly can’t catch feelings.
But it felt good. So good. It was so nice to be in someone's arms, to be held so tight like he never wanted to let me go. I dated the quarterback in college for a time. He was a nice guy, and our fathers were friends. His hugs were big and full like Sutton’s.
Until his hugs became suffocating, and just like everyone else in my life, he used me just to get to my father.
Dating, men, flirting, none of it was genuine. None of it was because they wanted me. Liked me. Loved me. It was all because they wanted to be the son-in-law of one of the richest men on the planet.
“Is there anything she can’t cook?” Sutton leans back, clearly happy with Rochelle’s pizza.
“She makes me cupcakes. They are ahhh-mazing.” James licks his fingers clean. After he snarfed down three slices, dare I say he’s now feeling full.
Sutton grins at my brother. “Cupcakes, mmm. I need to try those.”
“Nikki, remember those cookies that Mom used to—” James stops and looks at me, horrified.
“Don’t tell me your mom’s a good cook too?” Sutton watches us both as the blood drains from James’ face from saying too much.
“Sorry,” he whispers to me, and I give him a small grin.
“It’s okay.” I feel bad. He’s young. He has memories he wants to share, and now he’s forced to keep them inside. It isn’t healthy. I look at Sutton, who’s watching me intently, confusion pulling at his brow. My insides swirl, but I know in my gut, I can trust him.
“Our mom used to make these chocolate chip cookies that would melt in your mouth.” I smile at the memories, and James smiles too.
“Used to?” he asks.
“She died,” is all I say as my eyes sting. Sutton heaves in a breath.
“Remember when she used to dunk them in milk and make chocolate milk chasers?” James smiles. I’m surprised he remembers so much. Mom died a few years ago now, just when I graduated high school and when James was about five or six.
Suddenly, a realization hits me. Sutton doesn’t seem surprised that James isn’t my son.
Seemingly reading my mind, James admits, “I told him earlier.”
This is why he needs to sit at the counter. To remain quiet, not to talk. But I see Sutton wink at James, giving him a little support in what’s now a heavier conversation than was planned. Only, I’m surprisingly okay with it.
“I’m going to go read a book. Thanks again for the pizzas, Sutton.” James stands, getting himself out of this situation. He and Sutton fist-bump, and I watch him go off to his bedroom.
“Tell me about her.” Sutton’s voice is quieter, his gaze aimed right at me. The pizza now forgotten.
“She was my best friend. The best mom, beautiful. Friendly to everyone, not a bad bone in her body. We used to garden together. She loved bees.” Even as I tear up with her on my mind, I smile.
He leans closer. “Bees?”
“Yeah, she had a hive and would go and collect honey every day, even talked to them. Said bees were one of the most intelligent living things because they looked after each other. It was something she instilled in me. To always look after James.”
“I’m highly allergic. They scare me,” he shares, sounding a little unnerved at the thought of being near bees.
My eyebrows rise. “Really?”
“Yeah, my face blows up like a balloon.” He huffs, and I laugh, then snort.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. I just can’t imagine your face all swollen.”
A teasing glint shines in his eyes as he grins. “Yeah, well, it’s only happened a few times, but it isn’t pretty.”
“I love them. Makes me feel like the garden is healthy when there are bees around. I’m planning to plant some wildflowers around the apple tree outside.
I want to try to promote pollination to see if it increases fruit production.
You know, one-third of the world’s crops depend on bees for pollination.
Without them, we’d lose many fruits, vegetables, nuts, and seeds. Plus, they remind me of her.”
“Is that why you have a bee hair clip?”
I look at Sutton, a frown coming to my face. “How did you know?”
His shoulders lift slightly, like it’s obvious. “You wear it in your hair almost every day.”
“I used to.” That weight on my chest is back.
“What happened?”
“It broke when I was mugged. It was the one thing I had left of her, and now that’s gone too.”
Sutton’s jaw tics. I stand, moving to the drawer in the kitchen and pulling out the tissue, placing it on the table. Unwrapping it, I show him the beautiful jeweled clip now broken in about three places.
“I thought about getting some superglue, but I don’t think it’ll work.”
Sutton eyes the broken pieces before looking back at me.
“I’m sorry that happened to you.” His voice is low, tender, as he looks over the broken pieces.
“It’s fine. It’s just rhinestones. I mean, real black diamonds are expensive, but they’re also associated with strength, mystery, and boldness. In medieval Europe, they were believed to ward off evil. I probably could’ve used their help in this instance.” I try to lighten the mood a little.
A sympathetic look changes his expression. “How did she die?”
“Car accident. About five years ago.”
“And your dad?” My eyes meet his immediately, and his face hardens like my own.
“I think when she died, a little bit of him did too.” I leave it at that.
There’s nothing else to say. That I hate that when Mom died he gave up?
On life, on James, on me. That he married the first woman who threw herself at him and let her stay in the house ever since?
Mom held the family together; she was our queen bee, and when she died, so did our family.
“I never really knew my dad. I remember him a little, but I think the last time I saw him, I was probably about James’ age,” Sutton shares, and I wait, knowing there’s more.
“He wasn’t nice, not to Mom or Sawyer or me.
He tried to reach out to me a few years ago.
Obviously, he heard I was doing well for myself and wanted to reconcile. ”
“Did you?” Is forgiveness something you can give a parent when they left you when you needed them the most?
“No. That part of my life is over. It was over the minute he walked out on Mom and us boys. He left us broke, hungry, struggling. That’s not a man.
A man looks after his family. Protects them.
Loves them. Nothing else should matter but them.
” Sutton’s words hit home so fiercely, it’s like a gut punch.
Taking a deep breath, I work up the courage to ask, “Can I trust you, Sutton?” I feel that I can. I’ve shared more with him tonight than I have anyone else here in Whispers.
He reaches for my hand, nodding slowly with his eyes never straying from mine. “Can I trust you, Nikki?” My words come back to me, and that’s how I know I can. We both have things to lose in this.
Our hands stay intertwined among the pizza boxes and plates, the fire illuminating us both in a golden light, the quiet among the forest surrounding us.
“Your secrets are safe with me, Tinker Bell.” He lifts my hand to his mouth, kissing it gently, and little by little, my guard lowers and my walls come down.