10. Nathan
NATHAN
“Fuck,” Nathan cursed when the selfie he had tried to send wouldn’t go through.
The team plane was dark, half the guys sleeping and the other half watching something.
Nathan had decided to finish his book, which turned out to be a mistake.
He’d fucking lost it, weeping like everything happening to the characters was actually happening to him.
At first he made attempts to hide himself, but eventually he just sat there openly crying. He tried to send Octavia a picture to prove he had not only finished, but it had destroyed him. She had said it was sad, she didn’t say it would absolutely ruin him.
When the captain announced their descent into Toronto, he felt a wave of relief.
Some of the guys loved long road trips. He had never been a fan.
He liked his own bed and his own shower.
Nathan preferred being in charge of his own food and above all, not being in a room next to the guy who liked to bring a different woman back to his room every night of the road trip.
He didn’t love knowing that Jakub Svoboda used Czech exclusively and very loudly while having sex.
Nathan was pretty sure he wasn’t finding women who spoke Czech in every city, but maybe he had some weird connection that hooked him up.
“You good man?” Nathan looked up as the rookie stopped at his seat.
“Yeah, why, do I not look good?” he asked, steely-eyed, daring the kid to point out his red eyes.
“Oh, yeah, no, for sure. You look great. Like always. You know everyone always says you’re the best lo–”
“Langdon, go sit down and do up your seatbelt,” he said dismissively, saving the guy from his rambling.
He packed up his stuff, sliding the book into his backpack next to his iPad.
He’d thought of suggesting that he and Octavia FaceTime after his next road game.
His iPad had a much larger view than his phone would offer.
Shaking his head, he reminded himself that he should be focused on getting her to meet up in person soon.
Their calls hadn’t done anything to ease the need to be with her.
If anything, that need had only intensified, and it wasn’t just about sex.
He wanted to see her, hold her, smell her fucking hair.
Nathan put his head back and closed his eyes as the plane began to descend. Three nights of phone sex, five facts about her revealed. He knew if he’d been with her in person that number would be higher. But for now, he was happy to have access to the puzzle pieces she’d offered him.
The next morning Nathan woke up to no new texts from Octavia. He hadn’t expected to, but he had hoped that maybe she’d ask him to meet up tonight. He spent the day cleaning and visiting Scottie at the rehab facility he’d been moved to.
Nathan had noticed over the course of the past couple of weeks that Scottie seemed to be fading in a different way. While his body began to heal, he was definitely struggling mentally.
He and Emma had asked one of his doctors about it and had been told that after a stroke, many survivors struggled with depression. Some dealt with anxiety about having another one. Scottie didn’t seem anxious, but he was definitely down.
“I don’t know how to bring it up,” Emma said as they walked back to Scottie’s room. “He’s always been such a big proponent of mental health initiatives, but he’s also not great with looking inward.”
“He’s also too fucking smart to trick into opening up. He’ll know what we’re doing immediately.”
“How annoying is that?” Emma laughed. “Guy has a catastrophic brain injury and is still smarter than both of us.”
Nathan stopped outside of Scottie’s room. “Then he should be smart enough to listen to us.” He sighed before leading the way into his room.
“I’ve already…made an…” They waited while their brother searched for the word. “Appointment,” he finished, sounding relieved.
Nathan almost clapped. The recall for words was coming faster each time he saw his brother. His overall demeanor was the only thing anyone was worried about now.
“Really?” Emma asked, sitting in the chair across from Scottie.
“You…know how im…portant mental health is to me,” he said, his lips shaking as he tried to smile.
Scottie wasn’t overly smiley to begin with, so he looked less like himself when he smiled regardless of the slight paralysis he was experiencing.
He said that his glasses did a good enough job disguising the slight droop to his eye, but there wasn’t much he could do to fix his smile, quickly anyway.
“How’s your arm?” Emma reached forward and took his hand. Nathan watched as his fingers slowly closed around her hand. She looked up at him and gave a tiny shake of her head.
“Little better?” Scottie said hopefully.
“I think so,” Emma replied but Nathan saw the truth hit Scottie anyway, all the hope drained from his body and he dropped Emma’s hand, slumping against his pillow and going back to looking out the window.
“I’m tired,” he said softly. “Please go.” When Emma offered her hand to help him up, he pulled his arms in and looked out the window in what was becoming his go-to dismissal move.
“We’ll be back later in the week.” She sighed, grabbing her coat and purse and following Nathan out.
“He’d been on his way to a date,” Nathan said after they’d left the building.
“What?”
“When he was hit. Sounded like he was really into her too.”
Emma looked back at the building, a pained look crossing her face. “Fuck, he’s picky too, so she must have done it for him if he was going to meet her.”
“I don’t know anything beyond that. I mentioned bringing his laptop last week so he could log into the site he was using and let her know what happened. He told me to forget about her, he had.”
“Bullshit.” Emma scoffed. “Ugh, I hate this. To think he could be the only one of us in a relationship for the first time.” Nathan looked away guiltily. “Wait, you’re not dating someone are you?”
He winced. “Dating…not exactly.”
Emma threw her hands up. “Say no more, I do not need or want to know anything else. Just don’t mention it to him.” She pointed back toward the building.
“Obviously.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not the one with a head injury, Em.”
“Not officially,” she teased as she went up on her tiptoes and knocked the top of his skull with her fist.
“Fuck off.” He waved her hand away and turned to his car. “I’ll see you next time.”
She waved and got into her car. He waited for her to drive away before pulling out his phone.
“Fuck,” he murmured, realizing the last thing he’d sent Octavia was a text that just said this was a mistake because the picture never sent.
He quickly attached the picture from the previous night.
Kept getting an error when I tried to send this last night.
I meant reading the book on the flight was a mistake.
It wrecked me more than a hit from Mason Turner.