25. Dex
Chapter 25
With sorrow and disbelief running through me, I stare at the space Nate had occupied not ten seconds ago. Where had it had all gone so terribly wrong? I don’t think for one moment Callum had meant for his words to cut as deeply as they had, but Nate’s over-the-top reaction speaks volumes. I saw his face when Ciaran tried to stop him—a mixture of rage, disappointment, hurt… and presumption. He’d expected this to go badly, so it had. Almost as if he’d willed it, because believing his brothers would ostracize him as soon as they found out the truth validated his own misguided beliefs.
Nathan O’Reilly: outsider, loner, good for nothing.
Pain tears through my chest. I scramble to my feet but am pulled up short when Callum stops me.
“I’ll go. It’s my screw-up. Mine to fix.”
“No,” Declan says. “Leave him. He’s hurting and needs some space to himself. When he comes back, we’ll sit together as a family and have a proper discussion.” He turns to me. “Do you know the full story?”
“I know as much as you do. I’m the one who persuaded him to tell you. That shit has been eating him up for years, and I hoped by releasing it, he could begin to heal the pain he’s carried alone for all these years.” I give a despairing snort and sweep a hand down my face. “What a mess. Did you have to react like that?” The last comment is aimed at Callum, who grimaces and tugs on his collar as if it’s choking him.
I’d like to choke him right this second.
“Shoot first, think later,” he says apologetically. “Yep, I pretty much hate myself right now.”
“Does he know who his father was?” Declan asks.
I shake my head. “I’m not sure. He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.”
Ciaran rises from his chair and paces in front of the couch. “I can’t believe Mom had an affair.” He rakes both hands through his hair, leaving them there as his face twists with pain. This can’t be easy for any of them. “And worse than that, I can’t believe Nate thought, for all those years, that it would change one damn thing about the way we feel about him. I couldn’t give a flying fuck who his sperm donor was. He’s my brother, and I love the fucking bones of him.”
I catch Ciaran’s eye. “When he gets back, can you please tell him that? Right away. Let those be the first words out of your mouth, because that’s exactly what he needs to hear.”
Ciaran nods while Callum recovers his composure and says, “We’ll all tell him that. It happens to be the truth.”
“Thank you,” I say, my voice husky and raw as I fight to contain the emotion swirling through me. “I love him, too, you see.”
Three pairs of emerald eyes turn on me, so very different to Nate’s ice-blue, but despite the differences between him and his brothers, there are also similarities. The strong, firm jawlines. The straight, perfectly formed noses. The fact they are all insanely good-looking, which either means both their fathers were handsome sons of bitches, or they all got their looks from their mother.
“Thank you.” Declan is the first to speak up. “For persuading him to tell us. It was the right call. I can’t believe he discovered such a devastating secret and kept it to himself all this time.”
“He didn’t want to ruin your memory of your mom, so he decided he’d be the one to suffer.”
Declan rubs his face, hard, and blows out a heavy breath tinged with exhaustion. “There’s nothing we can do until he returns. I’ll call everyone as soon as he comes home. Dex, you’re welcome to hang out, or leave your number and I’ll call you, too, if you’d rather get some fresh air.”
I shake my head. “I’m not leaving until he’s back.”
Declan nods. “Fair enough.”
The day passes with no sign of Nate returning. The brothers all gather back at Declan’s home in the evening, trying to decide what to do. Ciaran had called a few of his ex-NYPD buddies to keep a lookout, but as Nate is a grown man with the freedom to come and go as he pleases, there isn’t a lot they can do.
“Do you think he’d just fly back to LA?” Declan asks after we’ve exhausted all other possibilities.
A shot of ice water rushes through my veins. Surely he wouldn’t be so cruel. To leave me here with virtual strangers as a punishment for the way I’d pushed him into revealing a secret he’d successfully hidden until I came along.
“No,” Ciaran says. “He’s hurting, but he’s not a total fucker.” He squeezes my hand. “He wouldn’t leave you here, sweetheart.”
“How can you be sure?” My voice betrays me, wavering.
“I’m sure. I know my brother.”
Declan begins to pace. “If he hasn’t gone back to California, where the hell could he be? He doesn’t have any friends here, so it’s not like he’ll be hanging out with them.”
While we all try to second-guess Nate’s whereabouts without any real clue as to where he could have gone to lick his wounds, an idea pricks at me.
Could that be where he is?
I get to my feet and grab my purse. “I think I know where he might be.”
“Where?” Callum asks, but I don’t listen. I shoot for the exit.
“I’m coming with you.” Declan snatches up his phone and wallet. “You guys stay here in case he comes back, and call me the second he does.”
We don’t wait to see if the twins agree before we jump into the elevator. The minute we get outside, I set off down the street as fast as my too-fucking-short legs will carry me. Declan easily keeps up with me at a slow lope, whereas I’m almost running.
“Where is it you think he’s gone?” Declan asks.
“Your parents’ house,” I pant, my chest tight. “He took me there the other day.”
Declan’s eyes widen. “He did?”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck. I would never have thought of it. He’s never once mentioned a desire to go back there. I know I moved them too fast at the time, but that was sixteen years ago.”
Twenty minutes later, we turn into the tree-lined street with me half-expecting to see Nate sitting on the front steps, much like we both had when he’d shown me his family home, but apart from a few kids playing an ill-advised game of baseball in the street, no one else is about.
“Shit,” I say, glancing up and down the rows of houses as if Nate will magically appear if I will it hard enough.
“He’s not here,” Declan says, stating the obvious. “He wouldn’t have knocked, would he? Asked to go inside, take a look around, maybe?”
“Only one way to find out.” I jog up the front steps and rap on the front door, which is exquisitely painted in a deep, navy-blue, with polished chrome fittings so clean I bet I could see my face in them.
A few minutes later, an elderly lady answers the door, balancing on a walking stick.
“Can I help you?” she asks, her face open and friendly.
“I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am,” I say. “But we’re looking for our friend. He used to live here a long time ago and, well, we’re wondering if he came back for a visit.”
“Oh, you mean Nate,” she says, her bright grin sending a flood of relief rushing through me. The moment of hope disappears with her next words. “He was here, but he left about fifteen minutes ago. Lovely young man. He asked if I minded him taking a look around, which, of course, I didn’t at all. Then he stayed for tea and chatted with a lonely old lady for a while. What a lovely boy.” She winks at me. “If only I were a few years younger.”
Despite the weight of disappointment, a chuckle makes its way up my throat. “Would you mind if I left my number, in case he comes back?”
“Not at all, my dear.”
I scrawl mine and Declan’s numbers on a scrap of paper the old lady finds. Bidding her goodbye, Declan and I trudge back onto the street.
“Where now?” he asks, his shoulders hunched forward. I’m not surprised he feels defeated. I feel the same.
Raising my hands in the air, I say, “I’m all out.”
Just at that moment, Declan’s phone rings. He answers it, and after two seconds barks, “Don’t let him leave. We’re on our way back.” He turns to me. “He’s at my place, and he’s packing.”
“Shit.”
We sprint back to Declan’s apartment. He keeps having to stop and wait for me to catch up, and by the time we get there, I’m seriously out of breath, whereas Declan has barely broken a sweat. As we step into the elevator, I graze his elbow.
“Let me talk to him first, okay?”
I expect Declan to argue, and I have my speech all ready if he does. Instead, he nods. With my heart pounding from both the sprint—a runner I am not—and trepidation for my upcoming conversation with Nate, both of us ride the elevator up to his apartment in silence. When we arrive, Ciaran is pacing, and Callum is nowhere to be seen.
“Where is he?” I ask Ciaran.
He shoots his thumb toward the guest bedrooms. “Callum’s attempting to talk to him.”
I burst inside without knocking. Callum glances over his shoulder and shakes his head, his lips set into a grim line. Nate, on the other hand, doesn’t even acknowledge my presence as he shoves the last of his things into his suitcase.
“Can you leave us, please, Callum?”
“Sure.” He pauses by my side and touches me briefly on the arm, whispering, “Go easy. He’s raw.”
I wait for him to leave, then saunter across the room and peer out the window. After a few seconds of me saying nothing, the flurry of activity comes to a halt.
“Aren’t you going to try and stop me?” Nate bites out. “Tell me it’ll all be okay, that they love me and accept me, even though it’s all bullshit.”
I pivot slowly. “What’s the point? You’ve already made up your mind.”
“Yes, I have.” He plants his hands on his hips, with his legs splayed wide in an act of defiance.
I yawn. “Then, why are we even having this conversation?”
Strolling past him, hoping he can’t hear the thunderous roar of my heart, I enter the bathroom. I’m taking a risk, but it’s a calculated one. During our mad dash back to Declan’s, I’d drummed over the right way to play the situation. Instinct tells me that if I beg Nate to stay, if I plead with him to listen to his brothers, all he’ll do is dig in his heels and do the complete opposite. Whereas if I let him think he’s gotten his own way, my attitude will confuse him, and he’ll want to understand why.
An attempt at reverse psychology. It’s worth a shot at least.
I wash my hands and splash cool water my face. When I open the door to the bedroom, Nate’s suitcase still lays open on the bed with him standing frozen beside it. Ignoring him, I go over to the dresser and take out a fresh T-shirt. After pulling my sweaty one over my head, I toss it behind me and slip into the new one. The burn from his angry stare almost takes the skin off the back of my neck, but I keep my cool, giving off an air of indifference. Maybe I’m not all that bad at this acting thing after all.
“Pack, Dex,” he orders. “Flight leaves first thing tomorrow. We can stay at an airport hotel tonight.”
Pivoting, I lean against the dresser for support. My stance is casual, a contradiction to the inner turmoil churning in my stomach. If this goes wrong, I’m not sure what my next move will be.
“My flight doesn’t leave until Tuesday, and so, until then, I plan to stay right here in New York and tick off the rest of my itinerary. With my precarious financial situation, it will be years before I can afford to return, and I refuse to let you ruin this for me. If Declan doesn’t want me to stay here after you’ve gone, I’ll book into the YMCA. You, on the other hand, can continue to run away from your problems if it makes you happy. Just don’t drag me into it.”
His eyes widen in surprise, and his mouth actually falls open. If the situation wasn’t so serious, I’d laugh at the comedy of it. As it is, I stare him down, refusing to budge a single inch.
His back becomes a ramrod, and he stares at me so coldly I almost lose my nerve.
“Get. Fucking. Packed.”
I grit my teeth. It occurs to me that the two of us are similar people. We both react badly to orders. The difference is I’ve figured that out when it comes to him. Nate, on the other hand, hasn’t figured me out yet. He soon will, though.
“Screw. You.”
His nostrils flare, and his stance widens. “Don’t push me, Dex.”
Two steps bring me flush to his body, and I poke him in the chest. “Don’t you push me.”
Shifting my weight, I make a move past him, and as my shoulder levels with his, he catches my wrist. I yank it out of his grasp and march to the door. I get it halfway open before both his hands smash against the wood and the door slams shut.
His body soon covers mine. Gripping my wrists, he shoves my hands above my head and grinds his hips into me while his tongue traces the nape of my neck.
“You’re so goddamn sexy when you’re angry.”
“Let me go, Nate.”
“Never. I’ll never fucking let you go.”
He spins me around, and his mouth crashes down on mine. As angry as I am with him, my nipples pucker, and the low-lying muscles in my stomach contract. But I refuse to let him off the hook—to let him use sex as a distraction and a tool to get his own way.
I bite down hard on his lower lip, and he releases me with a curse, dabbing his finger to his lips. He pulls his hand away, frowning at the sight of blood.
“You feisty little witch.”
“You’d better believe it, asshole.”
I wait for his next move, but as is often the case with Nate, he surprises the hell out of me by throwing back his head with laughter. “What am I going to do with you?”
The electrified atmosphere scatters, and I break out a grin. “Listen for once in your goddamn life.”
I half expect him to argue, but instead, he takes a big breath and sits on the edge of the bed. His eyes drift to his suitcase, then to me.
“You won’t come back with me?”
I sit beside him. “Sure I will. On Tuesday.”
His lips twitch, and he presses his forehead to mine. Silence stretches between us, and it isn’t uncomfortable so much as necessary for us both to take a breath.
I break first. “Why did go to your parents’ house?”
His fingers entwine through a stray lock of my hair, and he brings it to his nose. The tenderness of his touch makes my heart clench. “How do you know me so well after such a short period of time?”
I hitch my right shoulder.
He sighs softly. “I guess after telling my brothers the secret I’d kept hidden for seven years, I yearned for the memories of when things were simpler. When I was still one of four.”
Releasing a protracted exhale, I say, “You’re still one of four. Don’t you see that?”
He stares at the wall opposite, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “Maybe.”
“Did Ciaran talk to you before?”
“I didn’t give him a chance. Just stormed in here and began packing. Callum tried to apologize for his knee-jerk reaction, but I didn’t want to listen.”
Color me shocked.
“Are you ready to listen now? Because I think you should hear what they have to say before you run away like a spoiled brat who hasn’t gotten their own way.”
He cocks an eyebrow in warning, but I barrel on regardless.
“I understand where Callum was coming from, even if it came out wrong. It must be a hell of a shock to all of them. But come on, Nate, you’re not the only one affected by this. For God’s sake, don’t let something that happened twenty-eight years ago ruin your relationship with your brothers, or fuck up the memories of your mom. You’re better than that.”
His gaze drops to his feet. “Am I?”
I crawl onto his lap and nudge a finger under his chin until he gives me his eyes. “I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”
He captures one of my hands and presses a kiss to the inside of my wrist. “Okay, Titch. We’ll do this your way. Let’s go face the music.”
Nate’s brothers aren’t alone when we emerge into the living room, but as soon as Indie, Millie, and Laurella spot us, they all get to their feet.
“We’ll leave you to it,” Indie says.
“No, stay,” Nate says. “This affects all of us.” He looks at each one of his brothers in turn. “I’m sorry for running out. Guess I still have some growing up to do, as Dex rather gleefully pointed out.”
“Someone had to,” I mutter, earning a round of laughter from the room, and a hard stare from Nate.
“Come and sit down,” Declan says, gesturing to the sofa.
Callum gets to his feet to make room for Nate and me.
“Bro.” He claps Nate on the back. “Again, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you’d found it easy when I said you’d had a chance to come to terms with it. I can’t imagine how awful it’s been for you to carry that around for so long. I feel like we’ve failed you.”
Nate drives out a hard sigh. “You haven’t failed me. I guess I built this moment up in my head for so long, I convinced myself I’d lose you. I overreacted. It’s me who should be the one apologizing to you.”
He takes a seat, tugging me down beside him to lace our fingers together, and he keeps brushing over my skin with his thumb, as if he craves the contact.
Ciaran perches on the coffee table and rests his forearms on his knees. “Nate, I’m only going to say one thing, on behalf of every one of us here, and then I’ll shut up and let you talk. You are our brother, our family. Nothing will ever change that. None of us give a flying fuck about genetics. We all love you so very much. All we need now is for you to let us.”
Aimee chooses that moment to let out a loud wail. Millie flashes an apologetic smile and gets to her feet. “Sorry, Nate.” She picks the baby out of the bassinet and rocks her.
“Can I hold her?” Nate asks.
I guess this must not be a normal request from him when the whole room falls silent. I glance around at a sea of shocked faces.
“Of course,” Millie says, the first to react.
She nestles the little girl in Nate’s arms, and he stares down at her, his face a mixture of surprise and wonderment. A warm feeling spreads through my chest. He looks so at peace.
After a couple minutes humming to the baby, she falls asleep.
“You’ve got the gift,” Millie says, grinning as Nate carefully places Aimee back into her mother’s arms. “I might call on you for babysitting duties.”
“I’d like that,” he says quietly.
Declan’s eyes sparkle with what I guess is joy. He confirms it when he says, “I’ve finally gotten my brother back.”
Nate rolls his eyes, his trademark cocky attitude making a comeback. “All right. No need to go all maudlin on me.”
Callum laughs. “There’s the dick we all know. I suppose this means we’ll be seeing your ugly mug around here more often now.”
“You might,” Nate says. “If only to piss you off.”
Callum laughs again. “Bring it.”
I sneak a glance at Nate. Happiness shines from every pore as he banters back and forth with Callum. I’d been right to push him to do this, even if it hadn’t gone as smoothly as I’d have liked.
“Feel up to talking now?” Declan asks.
Nate nods. “Sure.”
“Okay, maybe you can start at the beginning,” Declan says. “Do you still have the letter?”
“No. I put it back where I found it. It was in that old shoebox you kept at the house that was full of cards and pictures we drew for Mom when we were kids.”
“Damn,” Declan says, crestfallen. “I put that in storage a few years ago with the rest of Mom and Dad’s things when we moved into the hotel. Never mind. We’ll go to the lockup tomorrow.” He casts a look at Nate. “If you don’t mind me tagging along, that is?”
Nate shrugs. “Fine by me.”
“Do you know who your dad is?” Laurella asks.
I briefly wonder if she’d drawn the short straw on that particular question, but with her silky-smooth European accent, it somehow sounds better coming from her.
“Not a clue.” Nate’s lips thin. “And I don’t fucking want to know.”
“Don’t you?” I ask. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” he bites out.
“Even if you did, I’m not sure we’d know where to start,” Declan says. “Twenty-eight years is a long time.”
“Good thing I don’t give a shit, then.”
Callum chuckles. “You’re our brother, all right. Full of attitude.”
Nate flashes a quick grin, then the room falls silent, as if no one knows what else to say. Nate gives me a nudge and cocks his head toward his bedroom. “Two seconds, Titch.”
I frown as he takes my hand and leads me away from his family, then opens the door to the guestroom and motions for me to step inside.
“I’m sorry,” he says the second he shuts the door behind us.
My eyes widen. “For what?”
His chin drops to his chest, and he stuffs his hands deep into his pockets. “For yelling at you when you only had my best interests at heart. For storming out and leaving you here to deal with the fallout. For worrying you.” He blows out a slow breath, his head gradually lifting. When he meets my gaze, he reaches up to trace his fingertips over my cheek. “Do you forgive me?”
I catch his hand and press a kiss to his palm. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
His answering grin chases away the shadows beneath his eyes. “Then, let’s get out of here and go do something fun.”
Excited, I mirror his grin. “Dancing?”
He grazes his nose down mine. “Whatever my love wants.”