Losing Nuka (Litmus Book 1) (20 page)

BOOK: Losing Nuka (Litmus Book 1)
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Continuing up the stairs, he grabs my hand as we make our way into the club.

“Want to hang out here for a bit before heading home? Get a drink without being harassed by egotistical fighters or cheerleading high school friends?”

I laugh. “Sure. But you do realise,
we’re
egotistical fighters, right?”

“You maybe. I’m as down to earth as they come.”

“Ha! Okay, Brawn.”

“Sure thing, Heatwave.”

 

 

***

 

 

“Meeting, now,” Brett says, standing in the doorway to my room.

“Huh? What time is it?” I croak, rolling over in bed.

“Eight. Cade was very enthusiastic that you must be upstairs in five minutes.”

I groan. “I don’t wanna. What have I done wrong this time?”

“Don’t know, but you don’t want to piss her off by turning up late.”

“Ugh,” I say, my voice still coming out hoarse.

We got in late last night after staying at the bar for a few more drinks. Finding a quiet corner to hang out, we spent most of the time talking. I can’t even remember what we talked about; it was one of those drivel-fuelled conversations that meant nothing but also meant everything. We weren’t our misconceived perceptions of each other, we were real. He wasn’t a guy from the Estates, and I wasn’t a girl from a privileged childhood. We weren’t Litmus fighters. We were Brett and Nuka—two people who grew up so differently and yet, as it turns out, have so much in common.

“Come on,” he says, entering my room and flicking off my bed covers. “Up.”

“Fine. But I’m taking this meeting in my jammies.”

We head up to Cade and Jonas’s office, where our last serious meeting happened. Where Brett and I became “a couple.”

Walking in, I immediately regret my wardrobe choice.

“Gabby?” I ask, staring at my friend I ran into last night.

“Nice PJs,” she says, laughing.

She sits next to a man I’ve never met, and Jonas and Cade are behind the desk.

The man stands up, reaching out his hand to shake. “Heatwave.”

“Please,” Cade says, “you can call her Nuka.” Her smile is a little over exaggerated and is freaking me out a little.

“Nuka, I’m here to talk a deal with you,” the man says.

“Deal?”

“My daughter thinks you’re worth backing, and after what I saw last night, I agree with her.”

“Your new sponsor,” Cade says.

Gabby’s dad gives me a broad smile. “So, let’s talk about the Heatwave brand.”

 

-16-

SUMMONED

 

 

Falling into a routine becomes easy. My life is simple—fight, socialise, train, repeat. The weeks fly by, and before I know it, I have six fights and six victories under my belt.

Right now, they have me fighting on a Friday night, and Brett on a Saturday. We have Sundays off to rest, and we’ve taken up the habit of visiting Brett’s family.

Brett’s been feeling guilty about letting Paddy get in too deep with Shane, and so he’s promised to invest more of himself in their lives again. He thinks by visiting them weekly, Paddy will stay in line. Paddy is a pretty awesome kid for someone who’s been through a lot in his short life.

I know I don’t have to go with him, but it’s either that or stay at home as Drake has Sundays off and I can’t go anywhere without one of them by my side. Sasha’s usually studying so I don’t have anything else to do. Not to mention Brett’s nanna is adorable, and it doesn’t hurt to remind myself what I’m fighting for.
Literally.

We train Mondays through Wednesdays and have Thursdays off to rest up for the weekend.

I’m improving with my training. Ryker and Brett are harsh, but their techniques work. I’m so far undefeated, but to be fair, nearly all my opponents have been drunk.

Tonight though, lying in medical as they check me over and bandage my injuries, I realise how close I came to my first loss.

My opponent was a girl who had friggin’ claw hands. She almost scratched my damn eyes out. I closed my eyes and just hoped for the best as I blindly beat the hell out of her.

“Now you know how my back felt,” Brett says with a smirk as the last cut is bandaged.

“Oh, so I can thank you for that challenger, can I? Another ex?”

The doctor clears me to be released, and I climb off the bed, taking a step closer to Brett.

He laughs. “How much of a manwhore do you really think I am? I’m joking! Geez.”

“Are you though?”

He wraps his arms around me, bringing me closer to him. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I can count the amount of women I’ve been with on one hand. And you already know two of them. It’s all an image.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because Brawn’s image won’t let you. Come on, let’s go home.”

He releases me from his hold and takes my hand as we walk out of Litmus and to his car, just like we do every week.

The line between us is blurring, but I can’t bring myself to stop it. We find ourselves showing affection even when others aren’t around. We haven’t kissed in private—only for show in the arena—but we’ve picked up our own little habits, like just now, him wrapping his arms around me when no one’s watching.

But Declan’s always in the back of my mind, and I’m sure he’s in Brett’s too. I still haven’t seen him since our run-in at the shops, and with each passing day, it’s getting easier, but I still think about him.

When we arrive home, there are messages on my voicemail. Brett arranged a landline to be put in my room with my own number a while ago so I’d stop using his, but it’s more of a pain in the butt than anything. I liked it better when no one could reach me.

Kicking off my shoes, I lie down on the bed and hit play on my voicemail. The first one is from Gabby, apologising for missing my fight tonight. Ever since we reconnected at Litmus, she’s been to all my fights, and we’ve even started hanging out again like we used to in high school. She, Sasha, and I generally spend our Thursdays together shopping or hanging out here. Gabby was put on the approved list of visitors because of the whole sponsorship thing.

Declan still isn’t on that list. Not that I’d invite him over, even if he were. And just as the thought of him enters my mind once more, so does his voice. On my voicemail.
How did he get my private number?


Hey Nuke …
” he sighed into the phone. “
Please don’t be mad at Gabby for giving me your private number. We really need to talk. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you ever since I got back from the academy, but your boyfriend isn’t passing on my messages.
” He has, I’ve just been ignoring them.

Your uncle’s looking for you. My house was your last known address, and they’ve been sending meeting requests for weeks now. If you keep avoiding the director of the Institute, you’ll be arrested. I don’t think it matters that you’re his niece. Just call me back, okay? I miss you.

My gut clenches. I don’t know if it’s because of the sound of his voice that I miss so much or because my uncle has summoned me. They only do that if Immunes have been reported for suspicious activity.

Immunes used to have to go to the Institute for monthly counselling sessions. Now they’re voluntary,
only
mandatory if there’s some sort of issue.

Why does Uncle Drew want to see me?

“Did I just hear what I think I heard?” Brett says, coming in my room without even knocking.

Quickly sitting up, I rub my eyes as if I’m tired, trying to conceal the fact they’ve started to tear.

Brett stiffens, and I realise I wasn’t discreet enough.

“Yeah. My uncle’s requesting to see me.”

“Why?” he asks defensively.

“How should I know?” I match his accusing tone.

“Call him,” Brett demands.

“Right now? It’s Friday night, and one o’clock AM. He’s not at work.”

“He’s your uncle, right? Call his house in the morning, but wait for me, I need to listen in.”

“Is this Brett talking? Or Cade and Jonas’s lackey, head of security?”

“There’s a difference?” he asks, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“There is. I like Brett. I’m not a fan of the lackey.”

He tilts his head. “What if I’m being both?” He moves farther into the room, sitting across from me on my bed. “I’m concerned as to why the director of the Institute wants to see you.”

“Concerned for me or for them?” I ask, pointing upstairs.

“Both.” He reaches for my face, his thumb caressing my cheek. “They’re not going to like this.
I
don’t like it.”

“Do we have to …”

“What?” He removes his hand from my face.

I shake my head. “Nothing. It was a stupid question I already know the answer to.”

As I meet his gaze, his face softens. “Maybe we’ll see what he wants first before we tell them.”

“Really?” I ask.

“We’ll call him in the morning. You can explain that you’re not avoiding him and that you’ve been staying at your new boyfriend’s house.” He winks.

“And you won’t tell Jonas and Cade?”

“Not until there’s something to tell them.” He leans forwards, kissing my forehead and then gets up to leave. He turns as he reaches the door. “No matter what it’s about, we’ll work out how to get you out of it. I promise. Get some sleep.”

I doubt that’ll happen, but I lie back down anyway and at least try.

Yup. Not happening.

I wish I could replay the voicemail again, just to hear Declan’s voice, but I don’t want to hurt Brett like that.

I’ve been so wrapped up in Litmus lately, I’ve barely had time to think about Dec, and until I heard his voice tonight, I was sure I was moving on—albeit really slowly. I thought I was at least making progress.

With the exclusion of training when I’m fighting Ryker, I don’t allow myself to think about him, but clearly it’s not working.

Why can’t I just forget about him?
I shake my head at myself. Of course, I’m not going to forget about the guy who’s been there for me for more than half of my life.

Then I think of Brett and how great he’s been lately, and I feel terrible for even thinking about Declan like that. It feels like I’m cheating, even though I’m actually with neither of them.
How do people deal with the guilt of actual cheating?

I highly doubt I’m going to get much sleep at all tonight.

 

 

***

 

 

Morning doesn’t come fast enough, and with the lack of sleep, I think I’m going to be a walking zombie at Litmus tonight for Brett’s fight.

Brett knocks on my door. “Ready to do this?”

I nod. He sits next to me on my bed as I reach for the phone.

“Hello?” a young boy’s voice says.

“Hey, Micky.”

“I’m Andy,” he says.

I took a shot. They are twins after all. “Sorry, Andy. It’s your cousin, Nuka. Do you remember me?” The twins are six, but I haven’t seen them regularly since they were three.

“Umm …” he answers. I’m guessing he’s forgotten who I am.

“Is your daddy there?”

“Hang on.” There’s a muffling noise, and a faded “Dad,” in the background.

“Drew Jacobs,” my uncle says, picking up the phone.

“Hey, Uncle Drew. It’s Nuka.”

“So you
are
alive,” he says in a playful tone.

“Of course, I’m alive. Who said I wasn’t?”

“No one. It’s just no one’s heard from you for a while. Are you okay?”

“Is that why you’re summoning me to the Institute? You thought I was missing?”

“Not missing. We’re all just worried about you. You haven’t spoken to your mother in five months.”

“I’m twenty-one, I don’t need to check-in every day.”

Brett whispers in my ear, “You need to stay on his good side, Nuke. Tone down the attitude.”

“Sorry, Uncle Drew. You know I’m still mad at Lia.”

“I think you get your stubbornness from her.”

“I’m not like h—”

“So, I need a meeting with you.”

My heart beats harder in my chest at his words. “Why? I’m fine.”

“I know. But I haven’t seen you in a while, and I just want to make sure you’re okay. In person. Where have you been staying? You really need to inform the Institute of your whereabouts, you know.”

“That’s the only reason you want to see me?”

“We can even do it here if you like. You don’t need to make the trek to one of the Institute offices. This is purely an overprotective uncle, wanting to check on his niece—the niece he hasn’t seen in a really long time.”

Turning my head to face Brett, he nods.

“Okay. What time?”

“How about you come for lunch?”

Brett whispers again, “Don’t forget Drake or I will have to go with you, so be polite and ask.”

“Uh, can I bring my boyfriend with me?”

He’s silent for a moment. “Uh, I guess. If that’s what it takes to get you here, then yeah, bring him along. I for one am interested in meeting the man who stole you away from Dec …” he starts coughing. “Sorry, got something stuck in my throat. See you at lunch.”

Hanging up the phone, I turn to Brett. “Do you think we have to tell Cade and Jonas?”

“Maybe after the lunch. It sounds like he genuinely just wants to know you’re okay. I don’t think it’s an official meeting—it’s at his house.”

“Are you going to come with me? I know you have a fight tonight … but … I’d kind of like it if you came instead of Drake.”

Brett huffs a tiny laugh. “You’re certainly singing a different tune from a couple of months ago when you were begging Sasha to have Drake babysit you.”

I nudge him with my elbow. “Maybe you’ve grown on me. Also, I just told Uncle Drew that I was bringing my boyfriend, and one fake boyfriend is all I can handle right now.”

“Fake relationships are hard work. Guess we have a lunch to get ready for.”

 

 

***

 

 

Walking into Uncle Drew’s apartment building, I freeze up. Maybe coming here wasn’t a great idea after all.

I used to live in this apartment with my father. After he died, I lived here with Lia, Jayce, and William.

Memories of growing up here flood my mind. They’re all happy, and it makes me wonder how we got to how we are today—not talking to each other, keeping secrets, despising each other—then I realise, for the most part, that’s all been on me.

I lead Brett to the security reception desk, giving our names to be let upstairs. Getting on the elevator, I reflexively reach for Brett’s hand. He takes it and rubs it soothingly.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispers.

The elevator doors open to the small foyer of the giant penthouse apartment.

The twins are chasing each other around the living room, but Uncle Drew and Aunt Jenna are nowhere to be seen.

The twins are fascinating. Micky has dark brown hair like my uncle but blue eyes like my aunt, and Andy has the opposite—blond hair like Jenna but green eyes like Drew.

I often wonder how Aunt Jenna handles the twins, but then again, she’d probably know how to handle twins more than anyone because she’s Jayce’s twin sister.

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