Nash (30 page)

He coughed again and it made his entire thin frame shake and quake. “You aren’t going to find another

Cora. She’s one of a kind, and once she’s ready, she’ll be back. I want you to call this girl I met the last time

I was in Vegas. I was doing a convention there and she was one of the pinup models there for the guys to

take pictures with.”

I snorted out a laugh. “I need a business major not a model.”

“You need someone who can handle all the bad attitude you guys throw around and that fits in with the

rest of the shop. Someone with heart and a certain badassness. She was smart, she was beautiful. I took her

info for a reason. Call her and see if she would be interested in coming out for an interview.”

I just wanted to make him happy, so I agreed. “If you say so.”

“I do. I might be sick, but I still know what makes that shop run. Plus I think she might be more

inclined to come help you guys out and make the shop a success than anyone else you’re going to just

happen upon.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because the past ties us all together, Nash. None of us would be where we are now without the things

that happened to us back then. Her name is Salem Cruz. Tell her I gave you her info and maybe mention

she should look up the shop’s website so she can check out the artists’ page.”

He was being cryptic and evasive, but that was pretty typical Phil-speak, so I didn’t question it. Besides,

he changed the subject.

“How’s your pretty nurse?”

That was a good question. I didn’t have the first clue how she was. Ever since she spent the night at the

hospital with me while we all waited on Cora and the baby, she had been slightly evasive. We were still

spending time together, still spent the night together as often as either of us could swing it with our busy

schedules, but there was something there now, some kind of distance, some kind of shield she had up, and

even though I didn’t want to admit it to myself because I was in deep now, it felt like she was drifting away

from me.

I wanted to ask her, wanted to make her admit we were into each other, that this thing between us was

serious, and after almost three months she had to see that I was committed to being with her and no one

else. But instead of being closer, she seemed to want more space between us. She hadn’t even let me do

anything for her on Valentine’s Day. It was a difficult situation, and while I had no problem pushing her

into bed, making her see and feel how perfect I thought she was, out of bed I was seriously worried that if I

tried to make her put a label on, tried to force her to admit she cared about me beyond what I could make

her feel in the dark, she would leave.

I got that she wanted to be careful, that she wasn’t fully convinced she could trust me … trust any guy,

really. I couldn’t blame her. She had told me about her dad and his girlfriend and about some guy she had

been involved with while she was in college, and how both cases of infidelity had left lasting marks on her

already distrustful soul. I wanted to shake some sense into her. I had worked so hard to get close to her,

there was no way I was going to screw it up by sticking my dick in the first willing female that came along,

but I just couldn’t seem to get her to believe that.

She sort of glossed over the situation with the guy in college, but when she talked about her father,

about the way her family had been so close, about the way her mom had gone off the deep end in the wake

of his betrayal, I could hear in her voice how hard that had been for her. His unfaithfulness had cut not just

her mother but all of the women in the Ford household deeply enough to leave lasting scars. She talked a

good game about tolerating him and the choices he made, about turning the other cheek to keep the peace

and to keep him in her life, but the resentment was there underneath every word she spoke. I couldn’t say

that I faulted her for that, because even from the outside looking in, I could see her dad had done a shitty

thing and left the family in the lurch. I just didn’t know how Saint was ever going to get to a place where

she could let it all go, put her faith in the fact that I wasn’t like that … if she didn’t come to terms with the

fact that people could be fallible, even people we had looked up to for our entire lives. The resentment she

held on to was justified, but if she couldn’t figure out what to do with it, I didn’t know what that meant for

us going forward.

Her father had disappointed her, solidified that foundation of mistrust I had broken ground on years

ago, and I wasn’t sure how to make her see that I would do anything within my power to keep from letting

her down like that again. I was not her dad, nor would I ever want to be the kind of man that threw his

loving family over for a quick piece.

“She’s difficult.”

He laughed, an actual laugh, and it made me smile down at the floor. I felt him reach out and he put one

of his thin hands on the crown of my bent head. I closed my eyes and felt my breath shudder in my chest.

“That’s the catchphrase of your life at the moment, Nash. ‘Difficult.’ You are a strong man, a good man,

and you can handle anything life throws at you, no matter how difficult it may be. I want you to know, this

man—the man you are now—he is a man you can be proud of. You are the greatest thing I ever created.

Don’t doubt it.”

Well, shit, if that didn’t just make me want to bawl all over the place. I had to clench my hands hard into

fists to keep all the emotion down.

“All I ever wanted was for my mom to tell me that. Now I know hearing it from you—the person that

got me here—is a million times more valuable. Thanks, Phil.”

I was still having some difficulty thinking of him as my “dad.” His fingers patted my shaved head.

“I should have been braver. Shouldn’t have been so concerned that you would hate me for not telling

you. I wanted your mother to be accountable, but once you came to stay with me permanently … I should

have told you the truth.”

“Well, I wish I had known sooner, wish I could have time to appreciate one parent being proud of me.

The choices she made make it really easy for me to come to terms with the fact she might have given birth

to me, but she was never really my mother.”

“I was proud of you long before you had any idea you were my son, Nash. Your mom is a complicated

woman, she always had a pretty clear-cut idea of the way her life should look. Neither you nor I fit in that

vision.”

He moved his hand and I finally looked up at him. If I was swallowing it all down—the feelings, the

time lost—the history was glassy and bright in his eyes.

“She should have just let you take me from the get-go. It would have saved everyone a lot of

heartache.”

“We can’t go back in time, son, all we can do is move forward smarter and far more carefully.” He

broke off in a coughing fit that didn’t look like it was going to end, and ended up needing his oxygen and

some pain medicine. I helped him with both and realized I was going to have to cut the visit short.

I got him settled and tried not to worry that every single time I saw him it felt like it was going to be the

last time.

“Call Salem. She’s just what you guys need, and I think you guys will love her.”

“Why do I feel like there is more to that story than you’re telling me?”

He gave me a weak grin and his eyes drifted shut. “You know me; I always like to offer a helping hand

when I can: you, Rule, Jet, Rowdy, Cora. I made my own little family out of lost souls. I’m hoping as time

goes on, you guys will extend the tradition. I taught you well in everything I thought you needed to learn to

have a good life, son.”

He really had. Every life lesson he felt I needed to know, he had used his own unique way to teach me. I

got in the Charger and cranked on the radio so I could listen to the music loud. Flatfoot 56 blasted through

the speakers and I thought maybe if I drowned out all my other senses, I couldn’t feel the pain that seeing

Phil disappear in front of my very eyes caused. I sent Saint a text because really she was the only thing that

was going to make me feel better.

Sure, I could go get drunk with Asa at the Bar, I could call Rome and go throw weights around at the

gym, Rule would drop everything and come by and listen to me gripe, Rowdy would pull himself away

from whoever he was into for the night and come entertain me, and Jet … well, Jet was never in town

anymore, but I knew I could call him and bitch. I had friends, people that loved me, were suffering the loss

right alongside me, and yet she was the only one that dulled the burn, the ripping feeling that was left after

that kind of visit.

Gonna order pizza. Wanna come over after work?

Her:
Won’t be off until late.

Doesn’t matter … you could actually stay the night this time.

That was a low blow and was wussy and passive-aggressive. But I felt like crap, so I tried to man up a

little more with my next message.

I had a rough visit with Phil. He is barely hanging on, it looks like. I would like to see you,

and I would like for you to stay with me.

There wasn’t a response back for a while, so I had to start the car and head toward home. My insides

were all twisted up and there was a sour taste running all along my tongue. I wanted to hit something or let

something hit me.

I was pulling up in front of the Victorian when she finally sent me a message back. It galled. I had never

waited around to hear from a chick before, especially a chick that I didn’t really know was into me to the

same level that I was into her. I didn’t do self-doubt anymore and I hated that she was churning it up in me.

Her:
Sorry a guy shot with a nail gun walked in. If you don’t mind me showing up a little later

I’ll be there. Go ahead and eat without me.

What about staying with me?

I had to push my luck. I felt too open, was bleeding everything I was feeling all over the place with no

way to stop the flow.

Her:
Can we talk about that later? I just got two more patients.

Go to work. I’ll see you later.

I sighed feeling wholly torn up and unsatisfied when she sent:
I’m so sorry about Phil. That isn’t fair

and I’m sorry you’re hurting.

That was the thing about her, no matter how far away she seemed, there was just something there, some

tie that made me believe that eventually she would come around and realize that we could be something

amazing and special together.

I got out of the car and called the pizza place that knew me on a first-name basis. I ordered dinner and

was putting my phone in my back pocket when a female voice swearing and a loud thumping caught my

attention.

My neighbor was standing outside of her closed apartment door kicking it solidly with the toe of a high

heel that was pinker than pink. She was using language that made me grin, and scowled at me when I asked

her if I could help her with anything. She shoved her dark red hair over her shoulder and put her hands on

her hips. Today she looked like she had come from some kind of fashion show, minus the disgruntled

expression on her face.

“I always lock the door behind me. Any door, every door, which is normally a good thing, but not when

my keys are on the other side. I left my cell in the car, and I was only two steps into the hallway when I

realized I didn’t grab my freaking keys.” She groaned dramatically and threw her hands up. “So my phone

is stuck in my car and my keys are stuck in my apartment and I am an idiot.”

I lifted an eyebrow at her because she growled and shoved her hand through her hair.

“You can use my phone to call the landlord, though it might be faster to call a locksmith. I ordered a

pizza; you can come over and hang out for a minute.”

Her eyebrows shot up and she frowned at me. “Isn’t that gonna make the girlfriend freak out?”

I had no clue. “I don’t know.”

“About the freak-out or the girlfriend?”

“Both. Do you want to use my phone or not?”

She sighed and followed me into my apartment. I handed her my phone and she used the Internet to

find a locksmith that would be there within an hour. She threw herself on my sofa and stared at the ceiling.

“If I could get into my trunk, I have a lockpick set. I bet I could break in.”

I offered her a beer and took a seat on the opposite side of the couch.

“Why do you have that?”

She went on like she hadn’t even heard me. “And my partner … jeez when he hears about this, I’m

never living it down. I locked us out of the squad car two weeks ago.”

What? “Royal?”

She turned to look at me and I could see she was aggravated. “Yeah?”

“What exactly do you do?”

She huffed out a breath and rolled the beer between her hands. “I’m a cop.”

Again, what? “Seriously?” I couldn’t keep the disbelief out of my tone.

“Yeah. I told you that you wouldn’t believe me if I told you what I did. No one does. I graduated from