Nate (A Texas Jacks Novel) (33 page)

“You know my truck? It was hers,” he quietly informs me with a deeper emotion in his voice, than previously. “She took such good care of it, like it was another child. The day she gave up the good fight, it was passed down to me.” His voice hitches. “I didn’t even want it, though she tried to talk to me about it closer to the end. I would do anything, trade anything, to have her back. I didn’t want her stupid truck. I just wanted her.” He curls into me more, holding on tighter. I listen as he silently sobs into my hair, but not daring to speak words I know nothing of to sooth his soul. I can only be the person he holds, while he lets his past come to life in the late hour of the night.

We stay that way for a really long time until he eventually drifts back to sleep. His body relaxes, but I stay right there in the same spot, not wanting to leave. I don’t think my legs would work anyway. My whole body feels numb from staying in one position for so long, and I am just so tired.
I know I should probably get up and head to the couch, but really—I can’t physically make myself do it. Instead, I just let my mind comb over his words until the darkness takes over and I fall asleep, with Nate wrapped around me for warmth and comfort.

I’m looking at one of the most beautiful faces I love to see, wondering how she ended up here, in my bed. I don’t recall phoning her. Maybe one of the guys’ called her? I must have been really bad off last night for them to ask her to come over. I wouldn’t have thought they would ever go there, but apparently they did. My mind is still fuzzy from the details of the previous night.

I feel like the worst jerk in the history of my life. The guys knew that I didn’t want her to come over here to see me in this sad state. It’s precisely why I didn’t call her myself, in the first place. Apparently Holt, or Tucker, had other ideas, thinking they know what’s best for me. They did try to tell me this the last time we all worked out together.

There’s nothing I can do now, since she’s already here. I might as well make the best of it. I pepper kisses down her nose, across her cheek, then up her temple before coming down to her mouth. I lightly kiss her a few times, praying my breath isn’t disgusting from the Jack. She stirs, and I watch as her eyes slowly start to open.

At first she seems shocked to see me until she realizes where she is giving me a timid smile. I’m not sure why she’s being this way.
What did I say last night?

“Come here, Charlie.” I softy order her.

She still seems hesitant but rolls further into me, mumbling, “I wasn't sure what you were going to need, so I grabbed a garbage can, pain medicine, water and towel." she says with a shy hint to her voice.

Well if that isn’t the kicker of all things grand. My girl comes to see me, I’m drunk and she’s gotten all of the things she thinks will help me feel better. What do I say to that? But before I can even say another word, she’s talking again.

“To answer your earlier questions, yes, your sister called me to come take care of you.”

“Wait,
what
?” I don’t recall anything about my sister being here. “What questions, and why was my sister here?”

I know it’s the anniversary of my mom’s death, but Carianna isn’t usually around to watch me make a fool of myself. It’s been years since she’s tried to talk sense into my head. I was positive she had given up on me at this point.

“Last night,” she shyly replies. “Umm—you know, when you weren’t feeling good?”

“No, I honestly can’t recall anything.” I mutter, silently loathing the horrible old Jack Daniels.

“Oh,” she sadly whispers.

“I thought the guys had called you to come take care of my sorry self.” I chuckle, not truly feeling funny. It’s not a joking matter but I need to cut the tension she’s starting to feel.

“I didn’t even realize you had moments like this.” She’s states, causing my body to go rigid.

“Moments like this?” I try to keep the suspicion of what I know is coming out of my voice.

She doesn’t respond, so I prod her along. “Did my sister say something last night, Charlie?”

“Not really.” She falters. “Just that umm—,” she starts stumbling over her words, unsure of what she should say, apparently.

“What exactly did she say, Charlotte?” I never call her by her full name, unless I’m serious and need her to listen and pay attention.

“Just that once a year you get really drunk, but it wasn’t her place to tell me why. She was afraid you would get mad. Like right now.” I can tell she’s lacking all confidence now in this conversation, not wanting to say something she shouldn’t, or letting anything slip further that my sister’s big mouth might have told her.

“That was it?” I cock my head to the side, peering down into her face, with as blank of a face as I can manage.

“Yes,” she’s reluctantly admits. “I promise, Nathan, she didn’t say anything else. Please don’t be mad at me, or her.” She pleads.

I relax a little, changing my demeanor.
For now,
“It’s fine, Charlie. Don’t worry. I’m not mad at you.” Smiling at her as best as I can manage.

“And your sister?”

“Don’t worry about her. It’ll clear itself up.”
Eventually
. I silently reply. “Let’s get up and get you fed. You must be starved. I know I am!” I roll us to a sitting position, kiss her nose, then hop off the bed and make my way to the bathroom. I need to recompose myself more, before she catches onto anything else.

I can hear the guys ribbing her about spending the night when I get back to the front of the house. She looks thoroughly embarrassed, red faced and all. “Ready for some pancakes?” I ask before cutting a look at the guys, letting them know to knock it off.

“I think it’s best I just went home,” she says uncomfortably, though she still gives me a small smile.

“Are you sure?”

“She doesn’t want your foul-tasting tongue in her mouth.” Tucker crassly taunts.

“Seriously?” He’s truly aggravating, and I’m not in the mood for his stupid jokes this morning. “And here I thought it was your butt scratching that scared her off.”

“Alright, everyone calm down. Stop with the taunting and insults.” Holt surprisingly intervenes, while he watches Charlie’s face closely.

I can tell she’s upset. The balance I was trying to ride has tipped over, and I’m not sure where this will go after whatever happened between us last night. I can only guess at what it was. I know eventually my memories will come flooding back, and it might be too late to go back to what we were.

“I’ll walk you to your car.” I offer. She gives me a sad smile, but nods her head.

“Bye.” She quietly tells the others, before heading out the door.

I look back to see the guys watching us, curiously, noting that Holt looks upset. “What did you do?” he asks.

“I have no idea. I do know that Carianna called her over here, and told her I get like this once a year then left us to ourselves. Take from that what you will.” I turn on my heels, making a slow exit to all knowing eyes. I bet we all can figure out what happened. The question is— will she ask me about what happened?

I wonder how long it’s going to take her, or if she’s too scared. Only time will tell, and time is what I’m afraid of the most. I don’t think I can allow this to go any further.

It will only save us both in the long run, for my sake, and hers.

Right?

I
T’S BEEN OVER A WEEK
since Nathan inadvertently revealed his broken heart to me. He’s been distant, to the point where we go days without talking, or communicating in any way. Right now, I’m looking at Nate, and I can tell something is going on behind those all too knowing eyes. I just haven’t the faintest idea what’s holding him back from me. I feel like this rift in our relationship is causing him to slip through my fingers, and I’m powerless to stop it.

I try to ask questions, but he brushes them off, like nothing’s the matter—when I know that’s so far from the truth, it’s laughable. Honestly, all was fine until his incident with a bottle of Jack. That’s when he rapidly started to change.

At the moment, we’re at his house, trying to enjoy a relaxing evening. I feel like he’s trying to pretend we’re okay—to him or to me, I’m not sure. I know it’s not for the guys’ benefit. I can see the irritation in their eyes as I sit here, silently watching him from my place on the couch while he talks with them. He’s completely unaware that I’m watching the way he acts towards me—or
doesn’t
act.

I haven’t brought up the night he spilled his guts to me, nor do I want to. He was so upset when he thought his sister had told me what was going on. His demeanor towards me completely changed. So, I’m waiting for him to open up again, on his own terms and while he’s sober. I want him to actually remember our conversation. When he didn’t remember it the next morning, I was crushed. It meant so much that he finally opened up about his family, only for him to be completely oblivious of it. I hate that he doesn’t even know he told me about his mother. I want to talk to him so badly, but I know if I do, it will only push him further away. I’m definitely not enlisting the guys for help, either. They haven’t even brought it up; though, I get the nagging feeling they want to say something. Instead, they stand firmly behind their friend and keep their lips tightly closed on anything Jackson family-related.

I don’t know how much longer I can sit back and watch him destroy us before it’s too late. But I do know this—only time will tell what will happen between us, and I refuse to give in, or give up on him.

The man who holds my heart in the palm of his hand. The man I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I love.