each other but never letting anyone else say a negative word without repercussions.
I’m the same way with Claire. I can bitch about her when it’s warranted, and trust me, I have. But if anyone tried to step to her, they’d be facing a total tag team, both of us ready to lay the smackdown on whoever had the nerve to say something bad about her.
Finally, Nathan holds up a hand, trying to call a temporary truce. “You’ve saved my ass more than once, Caleb. I won’t ever dispute that. But I’m good. I promise . . . I’m good.”
Caleb puffs up, eyes flicking from Nathan to me and back. I can almost feel the barbs he’s about to unleash and prepare myself for the words again.
Whore.
Liar.
And while there may be a kernel of truth to them, they don’t mean what Caleb will undoubtedly intend when he hurls them at me. And I don’t want them echoing in Nathan’s ears again. Not when we’re so freshly figuring things out and the world feels so dangerously, deliciously full of possibility.
But Caleb keeps the cuts to himself, instead just threatening, “You’re compromised, Nathan. By her pussy, by Dad’s mess. And before you know it, you’re going to be so compromised that even I won’t be able to pull you out of the giant shitstorm you’re brewing for yourself. And then I’ll be . . .” He doesn’t finish, just tapers off, and then he spins, stomping out the door.
Nathan’s chest is heaving, and I’m about to go to him when he lets loose a guttural cry of anguish, his fists crashing down into the granite countertops of the kitchen as he roars to the ceiling.
It echoes off the kitchen tiles, bouncing back at me like a whip, and I gasp as my hands cover my mouth.
But when he drops to his knees, butt sitting back on his heels, I do rush over.
Grabbing his face in my palms, I whisper soft reassurances to soothe his pain, not really sure how an argument got so heated, why it hurts so much. Nathan fights free from my hands though and shoves his head into my lap, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist, his cheek on my thigh.
Shocked to my core at the brokenness in this monster of a man, I don’t know what to do. So I pat his head, my fingers running through his hair almost as if he were a child.
“It’s okay, you will work it out. You’re brothers. It’ll be okay,” I repeat, as if the words will come true if I say them enough.
His response is quiet in comparison to the tension in his body which screams. “We’ve never fought like this. I mean, we’ve thrown down, of course. We’ve done more than our share, but not this. It’s always been him and me against everything and everyone else. I’ve fought for him more times than I can count over the years.”
He quiets for a moment, and I wonder where in the past he’s gone to in his mind. “We’re the team, but he’s not with me. It’s not about you. It’s about the whole thing with Nikolai, with the trip. You’re just a symptom of the real problem.”
“What’s the real problem?” I ask gently.
He slides around, getting his legs underneath him before slumping to his butt, his forearms resting on his bent knees. He looks at me for a second but then looks up, like he’s looking for some divine guidance, which I hate to tell him is not exactly forthcoming when shit is this wild.
For a moment, I expect him to say that he’s the problem. Nathan definitely seems like the type to take everyone else’s problems and internalize them.
“If you want to understand Caleb, if you want to understand me . . . you have to understand our father. He was an asshole who scarred Caleb in a way. And because of what our dad put us through, Caleb doesn’t trust anyone, not even me. Not in some things, anyway.”
Leaving was awkward, but I knew Nathan needed some time to process.
Quite honestly, so did I. We’d gone from a terrorizing dinner to firework-inducing sex to quiet confessions to bomb-dropping fights.
It’s been less than twenty-four hours, but it’s been a rollercoaster and I’m more than ready to get off and sleep for a few days.
Of course, Claire is having none of that. In fact, it’s like she’s lying in wait for me, and as soon as I walk in