Page 73 of Nathan

I catch his hand and press a kiss to his palm. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

His answering grin chases away the shadows beneath his eyes. “Then, let’s get out of here and go do something fun.”

Excited, I mirror his grin. “Dancing?”

He grazes his nose down mine. “Whatever my love wants.”

Chapter 26

Nate

One thing New York and Los Angeles have in common is the traffic. We haven’t moved an inch in over five minutes, and I’m getting antsy. That might have something to do with the faint traces of a hangover from drinking and dancing with Dex until the small hours, but this cab to the lockup where Declan stored our parents’ belongings is starting to make me feel claustrophobic.

“Let’s walk the rest of the way,” I suggest, handing the cab driver a twenty.

We all climb out of the cab, dodging through stationery traffic to the sidewalk. I take hold of Dex’s hand, and my brothers and I walk the last four blocks to the storage unit.

Declan keys in the code and lifts the roller door to reveal a ton of boxes, all sealed and stacked three high, lining the walls. The unit also houses our dad’s golf clubs, an old bike with a rusted chain, a scratched mahogany sideboard that had been passed down to Mom from her mother, and a piano I remember Mom buying because she thought it would be a good idea for us to learn to play a musical instrument. Suffice to say none of us had either the aptitude or the patience to learn, and it had gathered dust in the dining room. She’d refused to get rid of it, though, saying it added a touch of elegance to our home.

“Whose is the bike?” I ask Declan with a cocked eyebrow.

“Mine.” He flashes a broad grin. “I nagged Mom for weeks for a bike, but she thought the streets were too dangerous, so she refused. Dad talked her into it in the end.”

My face twists, and Ciaran lays a hand on my arm. “He was still your dad.”

“I think he hated me.”

Callum shakes his head. “No, he didn’t.”

“He always treated me differently, and if you’re being honest, you’ll all agree.”

Declan tugs on his bottom lip, his expression pensive as he eases out a breath. “He was much tougher on you than the rest of us. I figured he wanted to motivate you for some reason, like he thought you weren’t pushing yourself hard enough or something.”

“Instead, he must have gotten a kick to the gut every time he saw me because I reminded him of Mom’s betrayal. I mean, I don’t exactly look like the rest of you, do I?”

Dex pipes up. “Actually, you do. Apart from the color of your eyes, of course. But you have lots of physical traits in common with your brothers.” She emphasizes the last word, clearly to ram her point home. “Take a look in the mirror side by side and you’ll see.”

She turns her back on us, wanders over to the piano and lifts the lid, running her fingers over the keys. “I always wanted to learn to play, but we couldn’t afford a piano,” she says wistfully.

My heart twists for her. I mightn’t have had it easy, but I’ve never been short of stuff. Games consoles, Lego sets, the latest sneakers all the kids at school were wearing. Sure, I hadn’t gotten the affection from my dad that my brothers had, but Mom more than made up for the shortfall, pouring all her love into me.

“I can ship it to you if you like,” Declan says. “It’d be nice for it to have a home with someone who appreciates it.”

“I’d love to take you up on that,” Dex says. “But as Nate will no doubt attest to, I’d have to get rid of my furniture to accommodate it.” She giggles. “I live in a miniscule apartment. I barely have room for my cat.”

I make a mental note to speak to Declan privately and get the piano shipped to my place. I can’t make Dex’s apartment any bigger, but if I have my way, she’ll be spending all her time at my house now, anyway.

Declan takes down the first box. “Sorry, guys, but I can’t remember which one the shoebox is in, so we’ll have to go through them all.”

We all sit on the floor, each opening a box, and begin the search. It takes ages because we keep stopping and reminiscing about what we find inside, particularly when we come across some old photo albums of our school days. Dex pauses her searching and watches as we share memories.

“You grew into your looks, then?” she says, giving me a playful shoulder bump as I point out a formal school picture taken in seventh grade, about a year after the accident that killed my parents. I appear happy enough, wearing a big, beaming smile, but my eyes hold more than a tinge of sadness and knowledge only someone who’s suffered would have.

I flick the end of her nose. “Lucky for you, I did.”

Ciaran holds up a photograph and turns it over to check out the date on the back. “Hey, it’s me. I must only be about six months old. Oh, man, I’ve gotta take this back to show Millie. Aimee looks just like I did as a baby.”

Callum snatches it off him. “Poor kid.”

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