Chapter Thirteen
Nash woke up on Saturday morning to the beep of his phone. He considered ignoring it, just pulling the pillow over his head and going back to sleep, but a glance at the clock told him it was already after ten. So after a joint-popping stretch, he picked it up.
Blinking to focus his eyes, he saw the first text was from Chloe.
I’m working today, and Jesse and Knox are hanging out in my apartment upstairs.
Wondering just what the hell he was supposed to do with that information, he swiped to the next message.
This one was from Jesse, and he’d added Knox to create a group chat.
Chloe says we’re supposed to talk to you about the thing. I don’t want to.
“Can’t blame you, brother,” Nash murmured.
The next text was from Knox.
Chloe wants us to talk to him, so we’re talking to him. Shut up. Nash, let us know when you’re available. We’re hanging out at Chloe’s place above the pub today.
That’s what he was supposed to do with that information. Amused, he typed out a message.
I’m available today, but I just got up. I can be there in about an hour.
He set the phone down and, only stumbling a little, trudged down the hall to the bathroom.
When he got back fifteen minutes later, freshly showered, there was a new message waiting.
Sounds good. See you then.
He was starting to type out a reply when a new message rolled in, this one from Sawyer.
My pals and I are available to talk today. Two o’clock?
It was followed immediately by an address.
Glancing at the clock, Nash did some fast math. He’d get to The Wild Clover at about eleven, which would give him almost three hours with Jesse and Knox. And if that wasn’t enough, then he probably couldn’t help them anyway.
He texted Sawyer back.
Have something at 11 downtown, but I should be clear by two. See you then.
Then he tossed the phone aside and got dressed.
Fifteen minutes later, he was knocking on Chloe’s apartment door.
It was opened almost immediately by a white man with silvery hair pulled back in a bun, a matching beard, and sharp hazel eyes that reminded him of Bailey’s.
“Nash?”
He nodded and held out a hand. “You must be Knox.”
Knox shook his hand, then jerked his head. “Come on in.”
Nash stepped inside. “My car okay in the lot down there?”
“Should be. Chloe’s the one who calls for the tows, and she knows you’re here.”
“She might call for a tow anyway,” Nash said drily and followed Knox down the short hall.
Knox shot a grin over his shoulder. “If she does, we’ll pay the fine.”
“Appreciate it.”
The apartment layout was simple, a narrow hallway opening into an open space with a kitchen on the left and living space on the right. And pacing the floor between a comfortable-looking couch and a couple of facing chairs was Jesse.
“He’s a little nervous,” Knox explained.
“I’m not nervous, I’m annoyed,” Jesse corrected, the open, friendly face Nash remembered bunched up in a scowl. “This isn’t necessary.”
“Chloe thinks it is,” Knox countered, a spark of temper flashing in his eyes. “So sit down and shut up.”
Jesse’s eyes flashed back. “Don’t talk to me like a child.”
“Then stop acting like one.”
For a moment Nash wondered if he’d have to break up a fistfight, then Jesse sighed and dropped into a chair. “I hate this.”
Knox opened his mouth to answer, then shut it when Nash laid a hand on his arm.
“Which part?”
Jesse looked at him. “All of it.”
Nash sat on the couch, across from Jesse. “The abortion?”
“All of it,” Jesse repeated heatedly, but the scowl was gone, replaced by an anguish that had Nash shifting uneasily. There were big emotions here, and he was no therapist.
What had he been thinking, agreeing to this?
Knox took the chair next to Jesse. “It’s going to be okay, Jess. We’re going to take care of her.”
“Because we’ve done such a bang-up job of that so far, haven’t we?” Jesse asked bitterly.
He wasn’t sad, Nash realized. He was mad—at himself.
“I was mad, too.”
Both men turned to look at him, twin looks of misery on their faces.
“When Bailey told me she was pregnant,” he went on. “I was so fucking pissed. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Jesse swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
“And now she has to go through all this shit, and it was my fault.”
Relief and gratitude all but beamed out of Jesse’s brown eyes. “Yeah.”
“How did you deal with it?” Knox asked quietly.
Okay, Nash thought. Okay.
And he told them.
* * * *
Two hours later, the three of them walked down the back steps to the parking lot.
“Well, she didn’t tow my car,” Nash said after a quick scan of the lot. “That’s something.”
Jesse clapped a hand on his shoulder with a grin, his earlier anguish long gone. “I’m telling you, she likes you now.”
“‘Like’ may be a little strong,” Knox put in, amused. “But she doesn’t want to see you castrated and hung by what’s left of your balls anymore.”
“I’ll take it,” Nash decided. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
Jesse clapped a hand on Nash’s shoulder. “Thanks, man. You want to join us for lunch?”
It was temping, but Nash shook his head. “I’ve got somewhere I need to be, but thanks.”
“Raincheck?”
Nash nodded. “I’ll take that, too.”
“We’ll hold you to that,” Knox said, then jerked his head at Jesse. “Come on, let’s go see our girl.”
“I’m for that. Later, Nash.”
They turned to the back door to the pub, disappearing inside, and Nash walked to his car. He was going to hit a fast-food joint, get some food in his belly, then find a quiet spot to relax for a few minutes before he met with Sawyer. The last two hours had been intense, and he needed to reset.
An hour later, fed and refreshed, Nash pulled up to the address Sawyer had provided.
It was a small house on the north side of town, with a tidy lawn and flowers blooming along the hedge.
A bright yellow door glowed like sunshine against the dark gray siding, and a white sign to the left of the door proclaimed in simple script, Carolina Consulting, LLC.
Wondering if he’d gotten the address wrong, Nash pulled to a stop along the curb and took out his phone to double check. It was the right address, so he got out of the car just as an SUV pulled up behind him.
Sawyer got out of the passenger side in navy shorts and a white T-shirt, his eyes hidden behind dark shades and a baseball cap on his head. He lifted a hand to whoever was driving—Nash couldn’t see through the glare of the sun on the windshield—and joined Nash on the sidewalk.
He held out a hand. “Nash. Good to see you.”
“You, too.” Nash took it as the SUV pulled away with a cheerful toot of its horn, then gestured toward the house. “I wasn’t sure if I had the right place.”
“Just a bit of camouflage. This is the in-call I told you about.”
Nash took another look around as they started up the walk. The neighborhood was quiet and well-tended, full of small houses on big lots, built at a time when space was plentiful and privacy the goal. “Your friend’s, right?”
“Right.” Mounting the short three steps to the front door, Sawyer gave a perfunctory knock, then opened the door and walked in.
Nash stepped inside behind him and slipped off his sunglasses.
The cheerful living room was laid out for conversation, a velvet sofa in vivid orange facing two club chairs, one purple and the other peacock blue, in the same fabric.
A mid-century modern coffee table sat in the center, its sleek style somehow complementing the plush velvet perfectly.
But it was the people in the room who caught his attention.
The woman was stunning. She was white, with bright pink hair that hugged her scalp in a sleek cap and deep blue eyes currently twinkling with amusement.
She was tall, over six feet, wearing a short summer dress that matched her eyes, and built like the proverbial brick house.
She had a bold face, all keen angles and sharp points, with a lush mouth currently painted the same color as her hair.
In contrast, the man next to her was short, probably only about five-nine or so, his skin a warm bronze that made the woman next to him glow.
Like Sawyer, he wore casual shorts and a T-shirt, his madly curling black hair dusting the collar.
He had thickly lashed eyes that were so brown they read black, and a smile on his clean-shaven face.
That smile warmed as he stepped forward to greet Sawyer with a hug. “About time.”
“I’ve been busy.” Sawyer returned the hug with genuine warmth, then aimed his grin over the man’s head. “What, I don’t get a hug?”
“You bastard,” the woman said fondly in a Cockney accent, and when her companion stepped back, wrapped Sawyer in a hard embrace. Then she eased back with a sharp grin to flick the brim of his hat. “You look like a suburban dad.”
“Well, the dad part’s right.” Sawyer slipped off his sunglasses. “Ava and Thiago, meet Nash.”
Nash nodded hello, amused when Ava slung her arm around Sawyer’s shoulder—they were the same height—to give Nash a very thorough once-over.
Then she gave him a smile of considerable charm and purred, “Well, hello, handsome.”
Thiago rolled his eyes. “You just can’t help it, can you?”
“Why should I?” Ava replied, and shot Nash a saucy wink.
“Ignore her, she’s in vamp mode.” Thiago held out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Why don’t we sit down?” Sawyer suggested, steering Ava to the sofa. “And you, behave.”
“Yes, Dad,” Ava said with a pretty little pout, but she sat without further objection. “T, darling, will you get the drinks?”
“At your service,” Thiago drawled. “Nash, what’s your pleasure?”
“Just water. Thanks, Thiago.”
“Call me T. Sawyer?”
“A beer.” Sprawled on the sofa next to Ava, he swept his cap off. “Lou’s driving today.”
“Excellent. Ava, the usual?”
“Yes, please.”
Thiago walked around the sofa to a small bar set up along the far wall. Opening the mini fridge, he pulled out two bottles, a beer and a water. “Ava, play hostess and take these back to our guests.”
“Work, work, work,” she complained, but got up to fetch the bottles he held out. She passed Sawyer his beer, then handed the water over to Nash with a smile. “Here we are.”
“Thanks.”