Chapter 22: : Chapter 22

Seventy-two. Seventy-three. Seventy-four. Seventy—

The chime of an incoming call interrupted Nate’s brutal workout. He’d been at it for hours in his backyard, hoping to work off his frustration. A part of him acknowledged his punishing exercises had entered unhealthy territory, but he needed something to keep his mind off the shitstorm that was his personal life.

Sweat poured from his forehead and into his eyes, and he wiped away the perspiration before answering the call with a grunt. “Yeah?”

“Which Nate is this?” His agent and second cousin Marty sounded unimpressed by his caveman greeting. “Because I’m looking for Nate Reynolds, future movie star. Not Nate the Neanderthal.”

“What do you want, Marty?”

Nate had long given up hope that Marty would come through with The Big Gig. His cousin had a dubious list of industry contacts, and his only other client was a former child actor whose last job was a B horror movie so bad it was almost good. Nate had only hired Marty because he was family, and he figured having a shitty agent was better than no agent at all.

In smaller markets, Nate could get away with self-submitting for roles, but in cities like L.A. and New York, talent needed professional representation if they hoped to land major studio and network projects.

Marty tsked. “I thought you’d be happier to hear from me, considering I’m about to change your life.”

“Let me guess: you landed me a Marvel audition?” Nate asked wryly.

“No, but close.” The other man’s smugness leaked over the phone. “Lead role in a new Scott West action film. Word on the street is the studio wants to turn it into a franchise if the first movie does well. Of course, West wants an unknown for the role. You know how he is about the A-list types.”

Nate sank onto the ground, stunned. “You’re shitting me.”

Scott West was one of the most revered directors in Hollywood, a force of nature and film with a solid record of both box office success and critical acclaim. However, the eccentric director only put out one or two movies a decade, if that. His last film, Aquarius Rising, released twelve years ago, and he’d never done a franchise. He was also notorious for casting unknowns as leads in his movies because “stars are a goddamned pain in the ass,” according to an Entertainment Weekly interview.

Ironically, every single then-unknown he’d cast had become A-list stars.

“I shit you not.” Marty sounded more gleeful than Kurt Hummel belting out show tunes. “This is all hush-hush for now, so don’t go running your mouth to anyone about this. Lucky for you, your favorite agent happened to go home with West’s assistant the other night. Had no idea about her ties until after the fact. Couldn’t get a script—they’re passing those out on the spot. But auditions are Wednesday, so brush up on your skills and headshots, pretty boy. This could be your big break.”

Nate wasn’t surprised that Marty had landed news of the role of a lifetime not through professional networking but through his unofficial side gig as L.A.’s premier Casanova. Nate had hooked up with his fair share of girls in the past, but Marty was on another, Wilt Chamberlain-esque level.

They talked business for another twenty minutes before Nate hung up. Adrenaline pumped in his veins, thick and hot. Auditions didn’t mean he was guaranteed the role, not by a long shot, and competition for a Scott West lead would be fierce. Nate also had no clue what the movie was about or what type of character he was auditioning for, but he could study up on West—every film, every interview, every actor he’d cast in the past. Directors usually had a type of actor or actress they liked to work with, and Nate was going to figure out what made Scott West tick beyond the whole no-A-lister hang-up.

Casting directors oversaw auditions, but West was known to review tapes of all the auditions himself. He was a Type A micromanager to a fault.

Nate’s skin buzzed with energy. For the first time since he broke up with Kris, he felt something other than soul-searing grief and pain.

Aaaaand there went the pain again. It happened every time he thought about her, or heard her name, or saw something that reminded him of their time together. Basically, all the fucking time.

The image of Kris’s face when he told her he wasn’t interested in anything long-term…seeing her and fucking Teague at Skylar’s game…

Nate’s hands involuntarily bunched into fists. God, he wanted to punch that smug blond male in the face. He’d thought Teague might be okay after their flight day, but nope. The bastard had had his hands all over Kris the other night. Yeah, he said he didn’t have a thing for Kris—and Nate was the Queen of England.

Loud banging on the front door sliced through Nate’s possessive anger.

Michael reached the door before Nate could move. From this angle, Nate couldn’t see who was making such a ruckus on a Saturday morning, but judging by how Michael widened the door and stepped aside to let the person in, it probably wasn’t a Jehovah’s Witness doing the whole door-to-door preaching song and dance.

Then Michael moved, giving Nate an unobstructed view of the newcomer.

His wounded heart went berserk as joy and dread suffused him in equal measure.

What was she doing here?

His father walked over and slid open the glass door separating the living room from the backyard. “Nate, you have a guest,” he said quietly.

Michael’s withdrawal symptoms had improved, and he no longer resembled a wax figure of himself. The symptoms should’ve eased a while ago, but they’d dragged on because Michael hadn’t sought treatment. He wouldn’t have been able to afford a proper medical detox.

Luckily, Michael’s symptoms were relatively mild, given the length and history of his alcohol abuse.

“Thanks.” Nate waited for his father to disappear up the stairs before he entered the living room, where Kris stood by the front door.

He closed the distance between them, battling twin urges to run in the other direction and to crush her to his chest and never let go. “Kris, what are—”

“How much?” Her eyes blazed with fury. He’d never seen her this angry—not when he broke up with her, not even when a passerby jostled her and caused her to spill her drink over her favorite top.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Fuck, it was hot in here. He should’ve turned on the A/C, but he’d wanted to cut down on the utility bill.

“How much, Nate?” Kris stepped forward until there was less than an inch of space between them. “How much money did my father give you to break up with me?”

A roar filled his ears.

Double fuck. She found out. She was never meant to find out.

“Kris—”

“How much?” she screamed, no trace of her usual cool, composed self in sight. She was all fire, and her anger seared through Nate’s skin, scorching bone. But beneath the rage, he sensed a raw pain that twisted his gut. “How much was our relationship worth?”

“$50,000,” he said quietly. There was no use lying anymore.

Those huge dark eyes of hers shone bright before a tear slipped down her cheek and shattered him. Before he knew it, Nate had yanked her to his chest and buried his face in her hair, wishing he could erase her pain. He could handle her fury, but he couldn’t handle her hurt.

“Don’t touch me.” Hate infused her tone. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Kris tried pushing him away, but he held on tight, rubbing circles on her back and whispering soothing words until she went limp in his arms.

Goddammit, how did she find out? He couldn’t imagine Roger saying anything, but unless the other man told someone, he and Nate were the only ones privy to what went down in his study the other night.

Kris finally shoved him off, but her petite frame continued to tremble. She was so independent and tough that she usually appeared larger than life, but right now, she looked unbearably fragile, and there were dark smudges beneath her eyes, like she hadn’t been sleeping well.

Agony sliced through him. Seeing Kris hurt cut him deeper than any blade could.

“I trusted you,” she said. Flat. Monotone. No trace of her earlier fire.

“It’s not what you think.” Nate shoved a hand through his hair, his chest swimming with regret and sorrow. “Your father offered me the money. I didn’t take it.”

“So it’s a coincidence he offered you $50K to break up with me, and twenty-four hours later, you did just that. Next, you’ll tell me you have a bridge to sell me.”

God, he’d handled this all wrong. If they awarded Idiot of the Year prizes, he’d sweep the whole category.

“I didn’t break up with you because of the money.”

“Right. You broke up with me because we’re not the ‘right fit.’” She placed the words in quotation marks. “You might as well have pulled the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ card.”

“It is me.” Nate scrubbed a hand over his face, frustrated. He wished he had more time to cobble his thoughts together in a somewhat coherent fashion, but since he didn’t, the words spilled out, fast and furious. “The night of the dinner party, your father pulled me aside and made the offer. I swear on my mother’s grave that I didn’t accept a cent from him, but some of the things he said…made sense.”

Kris crossed her arms, stony-faced. “Like?”

“Like how we’re from different worlds, and how we don’t fit. I know,” he said when she opened her mouth to argue. “You don’t care about that stuff now, but our relationship is new. What happens when the honeymoon period ends? You’re an heiress, you’re about to graduate from a great school, and you have your entire future in front of you. I’m a college dropout barely making ends meet and in a career that’s going nowhere. I have no idea what to do in fancy situations like the dinner party the other night. If we do the long-distance thing, I can’t even visit you that often—not only because I can’t spend that much on flights, but because I’m freakin’ terrified of flying. It’s gotten a little better after our flight day, yeah, but I am not at the point where I can just jump on a plane at the word ‘go.’ You would’ve had to put in most of the effort, the same way you would’ve had to either pay for everything or give up your lifestyle to accommodate me. I can’t do that to you, and I don’t want us to resent each other down the line.”

Nate’s voice cracked. “You should be with someone who you’d be proud to be seen with. Someone who can live life with you the way you deserve, and who your father approves of. I know your relationship with him isn’t the greatest, but he wants the best for you, even if he shows it in a fucked-up way. You don’t need me driving a bigger wedge between the two of you. And the thing is…I would’ve stayed by your side right up to the deadline because I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you. I thought you wanted us to stay a summer fling. Hoped you did, because even though it would’ve killed me, I at least knew you’d move on. But when you told me you wanted a long-distance relationship…” He swallowed hard. “I couldn’t do that to you. I thought it would be easier to cut things off earlier before…”

“Before what? Before I fell in love with you?” Kris’s features hardened. “Too late.”

He was making a bigger mess of things. Did what he said even—

Wait. What?

The color drained from Nate’s face. “What did you just say?”

“I fell in love with you,” she repeated. The words should’ve sent him over the moon with joy, but her cold, clinical tone was at odds with her words. “Or, at least, the person I thought you were. Confident, no bullshit, goes after what he wants. But this?” Kris gestured at him. “All I see is someone with a boatload of excuses and insecurities he’s too afraid to face. I can tell you right now that I don’t give a flying fuck whether you have a college degree or know which fork to use at a dinner party. You know who else are college dropouts? Mark Zuckerberg. Brad Pitt. Oprah. They did pretty well for themselves. And newsflash: etiquette can be learned. Fears can be overcome. But you didn’t think of that, did you? You had a story in your head about not being good enough, rich enough, successful enough, and you twisted it to make it seem like you were doing me a favor when, in fact, you’re the one who needed justification to stay in your comfort zone.”

Nate was so stunned he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even breathe.

“I needed you.” Kris’s lips trembled. “I needed someone in this godforsaken town who had my back, but you left. So screw you and your excuses. I’m done. Just like you wanted.”

The door slammed shut with rattling finality behind her. A minute later, a car engine revved to life before the sound faded down the driveway.

All the while Nate stood there frozen, staring blankly at the chipped paint on their front entrance.

He didn’t know how long he did his statue impression, but it was long enough for his father to clamber down the stairs and pin him with a frown.

“You’re still here?” Michael’s bushy brows trembled with disapproval.

“Where else would I be?” Nate mumbled. Maybe he should jump in an acid bath. Scrape off the pavement with his flesh. Throw on a red meat suit, swim out to the middle of the Pacific, and wait for sharks to do their thing.

All better options than wallowing in his self-disgust.

“Out there, chasing your girl!” Michael jabbed a finger toward their driveway. “She read you the riot act, no doubt about that—I could hear you guys from all the way upstairs—but this is your chance to prove her wrong. Instead, you’re standing here like someone glued your feet to the floor. What the hell are you thinking?”

“What I’m thinking?” Nate’s temper flared, a welcome reprieve from the chilling numbness that set in the second Kris walked out the door. “I’m thinking I’m in this damn position because I have to be the head of this household. I had to drop out of college and start making money or we would’ve been out on the streets because you decided whiskey was more important than your family. For five years, I worked my ass off so you could drink your days away and shirk your responsibilities. I get that you’re devastated about Mom, I really do. But guess what? So am I. I’m her son, and I loved her, and I didn’t even get the chance to mourn her properly because I’ve been trying to keep us afloat from the moment we received the phone call! So don’t you dare come down here and lecture me. You haven’t earned that right!”

Nate’s hold on his emotions had already weakened from his conversation with Kris. Now, his chest heaved with gasping breaths as half a decade’s worth of frustration, resentment, and grief spilled forth, drowning him in their fury and fogging his vision.

Michael’s chest deflated. His face sank into itself, his eyes and cheeks hollowing with guilt.

“You’re right,” he said. “I’ve been a horrible father these past few years, and I haven’t earned the right to give you advice or tell you how to live your life. You’ve acted far more like an adult than I have, and you’ve done such a good job at holding us together. Taking care of Sky, paying the bills, fixing what needs to be fixed.” He cleared his throat, his eyes growing bright. “Your mother would be so proud of you. Me? She’d probably smack me upside the head if she were here.”

Nate stared at the ground, his jaw harder than granite.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to realize how selfish I was being,” Michael continued. “I loved your mother so much, and when she died, a big part of me died with her. I told myself I only needed something to get me through the initial pain, and then I’d be all right. But a week turned into a month, a month turned into a year, and a year turned into…well, you know. Every time I tried to quit in the past, the pain came rushing back and I wasn’t strong enough to handle it. I fell back into old habits. I know it’s no excuse, but you and Sky are such good kids. I didn’t have to worry about either of you getting into trouble or falling in with the wrong crowd, and I got comfortable, especially after you took over. I told myself, let Nate handle it. He’s so much better at this than I am. So much stronger.” His voice grew rough. “I didn’t think about the toll it took on you and what it cost you to give up your life for ours. It shouldn’t have taken me almost dying to realize what a fool I’ve been, but that night, when I lay there in the hospital half out of my mind, I saw…your mother. It was the first dream I had of her where she seemed real, so tangible I could almost reach out and touch her. And boy, was she pissed at me.”

Michael chuckled sadly and shook his head. “I don’t remember what she said, but I woke up feeling nauseous and sick to my stomach. Not because of the alcohol poisoning—or at least, not entirely—but because it hit me that I could’ve died without really knowing my children. The last time I spent any meaningful time with you and Sky was when you were still practically kids. Then I thought you two might be better off without me, and wasn’t that a punch in the gut? No father wants to be a burden to their children. I should’ve been the one protecting and taking care of you guys, not the other way around, which is why I promised myself in that hospital bed that I’d quit drinking.” A grim smile. “It hasn’t been easy, as you can probably tell. But I am getting better, and I’ve started attending AA meetings. You have every reason not to believe me, but I mean it this time. No more alcohol. No more living in the past. It’s time for me to step up—for myself and for you and Sky. You’ve been shouldering this burden by yourself for too long, son. Let me help you.”

Sincerity and conviction backed every word.

Nate hadn’t realized how long he’d waited for his father to say those words until he heard them. Once he did, the dam broke, and the tears he’d been holding back for years drenched his cheeks.

Michael clasped him to his chest, awkwardly at first, but then more tenderly.

Nate should’ve been embarrassed, crying like this at the ripe old age of twenty-three, but fuck it. He’d lost his mom.

His mom was dead.

The woman who read him bedtime stories, and taught him how to tie his shoelaces, and baked him his favorite double chocolate chunk cookies whenever he was sad…was dead.

And she was never, ever coming back.

For the first time since he received the news that Flight 968 from Chicago to L.A. had crashed, no survivors onboard, Nate allowed himself to cry, and grieve, and mourn. The anger he’d held onto all these years crumbled, leaving behind a void which the emotions he should’ve processed after his mother’s death rushed to fill.

It was gut-wrenchingly awful and freeing all at once.

The Reynolds’ dismal financial situation was the same, and their house with its leaky pipes and roof was the same. But for once, Nate felt like he didn’t have to shoulder it all on his own. He’d gotten so used to the weight of his burden that he hadn’t realized how much it was crushing him until the pressure eased.

“Do you mind if I give you some advice?” Michael asked once Nate had pulled himself together. “You don’t have to take it—God knows I’ve made my share of mistakes in the past. But marrying your mother was not one of them, and after twenty years of marriage, I’d like to think I know a little something about women.”

Nate released a long, shuddery sigh. “Kris.”

“Kris,” his father confirmed. “You’re crazy about her—no, don’t bother denying it. I’ve seen the way you look at her. It’s the same way I looked at your mother from the moment I first saw her reading under an oak tree on campus.” A small smile touched Michael’s face. “That’s the look of a soul finding its other half. If you’re one of the lucky few to come across that in your lifetime, you grab on and you don’t let go. Doesn’t matter how much money you have, or what you look like, or where you live. You think your soul gives a crap about any of those things? All it cares about is that it’s complete. Of course—” Michael’s brows slashed into a deep V. “There are also the stupid few, who push the women they love away for whatever dumb reason they can think of.” A pointed stare at his son. “Tell me, which category do you fall into: the lucky ones or the stupid ones?”

Doesn’t matter how much money you have, or what you look like, or where you live.

It sounded so simple. Nothing in life was that easy…but what if some things were? What if love was just about two people who were willing to defy all opposing circumstances to be together because they had that much faith in their love? People couldn’t choose who they fell for, and oftentimes, they fell for people their minds would’ve never picked. That was probably a good thing. Minds could be manipulated, and bodies could be tricked. Hearts and souls, though? They always knew the truth.

Nate’s thoughts sharpened, crystallized—and it was all he could do not to bang his head against the wall. He’d been stupid for sure. He just hoped it wasn’t too late to fix his mistake.

“Dad,” he said. “Let’s continue this later. I have to get the woman I love back.”