“Can I help somehow?”
I shake my head, putting my tea back on the table. “No. It’ll work out.”
He looks away and lets out a breath. “Did they not like Dom?”
I know what he’s implying, questioning, and I feel terrible that such a thing would cross his mind. “Ford and Lincoln did like him, actually. You know Sienna loves him. I mean, what’s not to love?”
“Lots of things,” he chuckles. “But he’s a good guy. I know you know that.”
“I do.”
He turns to face me, his eyes pure sincerity. “Dom is the only person in my entire life I can count on. I don’t know how much he’s told you about parts of our childhood . . .”
“Enough to understand what you’re saying.”
“He told you? About . . . that?”
It’s like he can’t say the words, and I just want to jump up and hug him tight. But I don’t. “He did,” I whisper.
He heaves another breath. “He bore the brunt of our dad’s problems. He was the one that couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t stand to see the damage the next morning. Dom feels things more than I do, I guess. Or maybe he paid more attention or was around more because he was younger.”
His head hangs. “I should’ve protected him. That night, I—”
“Nate.” I wait for him to look at me. When he does, his eyes about slaughter me. “Nothing that your dad did was your fault. And what happened that night was a terrible accident that neither of you wanted but happened anyway.”
“He’s never been the same, Priss. There’s been a piece of Dominic that’s been a little untouchable since that gun went off. Like . . . it’s like something happened when that trigger was pulled that made him feel . . . less. Dirty. He’s carried that shit around ever since.” He makes sure I’m listening before continuing. “Only recently have I caught glimpses of the brother I used to know.”
“Nate . . .”
“It’s true. As much of a badass as he is, he’s been on this mental island since all that went down. But he’s starting to let you in.”
Tears flood my eyes.
“If you’re going to cry, we’re done here,” he jokes, standing up straight. “Where’s my kid?”
“Follow me.” I wipe my cheeks dry with the back of my hand and lead Nate down the hallway. I prop the guest room door open.
Nate and I stand in the doorway and watch Ryder curled up in a ball in the center of the bed, snoring softly. A juice box that we picked up at the grocery store is on the bedside table.
“I’ve never slept that well in my entire life,” Nate whispers. “Just look at him.”
“He’s a sweet boy.”
“When I was that age, I’d put a chair in front of my door when I went to bed in case it was the night my father would come for me for my ass-whippin’.”
My hand rests on his arm, tears coming back to my eyes again.
“It never happened at night. But I never had a night where I didn’t fear it.”
“I can’t imagine that. I hate you had to go through that.”
“I don’t.” He looks down at me, his eyes a little greener than his brother’s. “It made me who I am. It made Dominic who he is too. Do I wonder what it feels like to be Ryder right now? Sure. But the fact that he’s not living like that is what’s important.”
“You’re kind of philosophical,” I say, trying to break the moment.
He chuckles quietly. “Sure.”
“You know what? Why don’t you let Ryder just sleep here tonight? I’ll feed him some sugary breakfast and bring him home wound for sound in the morning.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. But let’s let him sleep.”
Nate searches my eyes, looking for something he must find because he eventually nods and pulls the door closed. As we make our way back down the hallway, he starts laughing.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. Just thank you.”
“For what?”
He stops in the center of the foyer. “For taking care of Dom. Me. Ryder. Just promise me that even if Dom fucks this whole thing up, you won’t write off me and the kid.”
I laugh and open the front door. “I have a feeling there’s not much your brother can do to fuck it up that bad.”
“Call me if you need anything,” he says, stepping out on the porch. “And thanks again.”
“Any time.”
He does what Dom does—waits for me to lock the door before going to his truck. I head back to the sofa and curl up with my tea and a heart that’s fuller than I ever could’ve imagined.
Dominic
“SHE SHOULD BE HERE ANY time,” Nate says, rinsing off his plate. “She sent me a text a little bit ago and asked if he was allergic to strawberries. Does she overthink everything?”
“Yes,” I laugh, tossing an almond in my mouth.
“She’s a good girl, Dom. I just wish that brother of hers would stop being a dick.”
“Graham?” I ask, sitting up.
“Yeah. I asked her about it last night and could tell it really bothers her.”
He keeps talking, but my head is out of the conversation. This issue has been gnawing at me since the night she came here crying. I go back and forth from wanting to slice his fucking throat to telling her to give in and call him—a very un-me kind of thing to do.
I just hate knowing she’s thinking about it when she gazes into the distance or his name comes up in conversation. To know it’s my fault.
“Are you working today?” he asks.
“Nah, they cancelled my schedule today because I was tied up on that job all night last night.”
“Got ya. I’m gonna grab a shower before Chrissy gets here to get Ry.” Nate takes off around the corner and leaves me alone with my thoughts.
My phone is in front of me. I spin it around in a circle, my fingers sliding up and down the smooth glass.
Do I or don’t I? That is the question.
The sound of my foot tapping against the floor starts to bother me so I stand, grab the phone before I can stop myself, and hit call on the number I looked up earlier.
As it rings, I pace. And as a cheery voice answers, “Landry Holdings,” the sound of her name is washed out by the tumble of white noise over my eardrums.
“Is Graham Landry in?” I ask.
“He is. May I ask who is calling, please?”
“Dominic Hughes.”
“One moment, please.”
I look at the screen. How I’ve only been on here for forty-two seconds is beyond me. It feels like an eternity already.
“This is Graham.” His voice is curt, cool, just as I expected it to be.
“This is Dominic,” I say, “but your secretary probably told you that.”
“She did. She’s efficient. Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”
“Look, you don’t know me and I don’t know you. I’m sure we’ve both drawn conclusions based on what little information we have about the other. But that doesn’t seem fair.”
“I don’t know,” he contends. “I’m pretty safe in my assumptions.”
“I bet you are. I’m also pretty safe in mine.”
“And what would those tell you, Dominic?”
“That you care about your sister as much as I would care about mine, if I had one. But you took a well-placed concern and ran with it in the wrong direction and now your sister won’t talk to you.”
“How is that any of your business?”