Page 69 of Nathan

We don’t wait to see if the twins agree before we jump into the elevator. The minute we get outside, I set off down the street as fast as my too-fucking-short legs will carry me. Declan easily keeps up with me at a slow lope, whereas I’m almost running.

“Where is it you think he’s gone?” Declan asks.

“Your parents’ house,” I pant, my chest tight. “He took me there the other day.”

Declan’s eyes widen. “He did?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck. I would never have thought of it. He’s never once mentioned a desire to go back there. I know I moved them too fast at the time, but that was sixteen years ago.”

Twenty minutes later, we turn into the tree-lined street with me half-expecting to see Nate sitting on the front steps, much like we both had when he’d shown me his family home, but apart from a few kids playing an ill-advised game of baseball in the street, no one else is about.

“Shit,” I say, glancing up and down the rows of houses as if Nate will magically appear if I will it hard enough.

“He’s not here,” Declan says, stating the obvious. “He wouldn’t have knocked, would he? Asked to go inside, take a look around, maybe?”

“Only one way to find out.” I jog up the front steps and rap on the front door, which is exquisitely painted in a deep, navy-blue, with polished chrome fittings so clean I bet I could see my face in them.

A few minutes later, an elderly lady answers the door, balancing on a walking stick.

“Can I help you?” she asks, her face open and friendly.

“I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am,” I say. “But we’re looking for our friend. He used to live here a long time ago and, well, we’re wondering if he came back for a visit.”

“Oh, you mean Nate,” she says, her bright grin sending a flood of relief rushing through me. The moment of hope disappears with her next words. “He was here, but he left about fifteen minutes ago. Lovely young man. He asked if I minded him taking a look around, which, of course, I didn’t at all. Then he stayed for tea and chatted with a lonely old lady for a while. What a lovely boy.” She winks at me. “If only I were a few years younger.”

Despite the weight of disappointment, a chuckle makes its way up my throat. “Would you mind if I left my number, in case he comes back?”

“Not at all, my dear.”

I scrawl mine and Declan’s numbers on a scrap of paper the old lady finds. Bidding her goodbye, Declan and I trudge back onto the street.

“Where now?” he asks, his shoulders hunched forward. I’m not surprised he feels defeated. I feel the same.

Raising my hands in the air, I say, “I’m all out.”

Just at that moment, Declan’s phone rings. He answers it, and after two seconds barks, “Don’t let him leave. We’re on our way back.” He turns to me. “He’s at my place, and he’s packing.”

“Shit.”

We sprint back to Declan’s apartment. He keeps having to stop and wait for me to catch up, and by the time we get there, I’m seriously out of breath, whereas Declan has barely broken a sweat. As we step into the elevator, I graze his elbow.

“Let me talk to him first, okay?”

I expect Declan to argue, and I have my speech all ready if he does. Instead, he nods. With my heart pounding from both the sprint—a runner I am not—and trepidation for my upcoming conversation with Nate, both of us ride the elevator up to his apartment in silence. When we arrive, Ciaran is pacing, and Callum is nowhere to be seen.

“Where is he?” I ask Ciaran.

He shoots his thumb toward the guest bedrooms. “Callum’s attempting to talk to him.”

I burst inside without knocking. Callum glances over his shoulder and shakes his head, his lips set into a grim line. Nate, on the other hand, doesn’t even acknowledge my presence as he shoves the last of his things into his suitcase.

“Can you leave us, please, Callum?”

“Sure.” He pauses by my side and touches me briefly on the arm, whispering, “Go easy. He’s raw.”

I wait for him to leave, then saunter across the room and peer out the window. After a few seconds of me saying nothing, the flurry of activity comes to a halt.

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