Page 113 of Indigo Sky

“Yeah, sure,” I muttered, watching his back as he disappeared through the door.

***

We sat at the same small table we had shared when we lived together with an open pizza box between us. I’d sort of thought he would’ve gotten some new furniture to accommodate his new life with Crystal and her son, but so far, I couldn’t find any evidence of that.

Nate brought the topic up himself.

“I’m moving out of here soon,” he said, grabbing his second slice of meat lovers and extra cheese.

“You’re gonna live with Crystal?”

He seemed to study the slice, drowning his thoughts in the melted mozzarella, when he said, “Her name is Cassie.”

“Cassie,” I repeated, picturing the small blonde with a loud voice and fondness for cowgirl boots.

“She’s been living with her mom since Jagger was born. Even through … a lot of bad relationships with guys that …” He burst with a laugh and shook his head. “Honestly, I was gonna say they were worse than me, but that’s probably not true. Back then …”

Shame touched his cheeks, and he shook his head. “Anyway, my lease is almost up on this place, and even though she could move in here and Jagger could take your old room, we wanted something … new, you know.”

“I get that.”

“So, we’re renting this little house in Bay River. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms. Nice living room, kitchen, a whole-ass dining room. And there’s a backyard with a playground and everything.”

He took a bite, but even his chewing couldn’t contain the smile tugging at his lips.

“That’s awesome, man,” I said, reaching into the box for a slice. “Honestly, I’m happy for you. You …”

“Don’t say I deserve it.”

The pizza lingered between my mouth and the box as I lifted my gaze to his. “All right, I won’t.”

“I should be in prison,” he muttered, then took a bite of his pizza. “Hell, I should be fuckin’dead.”

I didn’t respond right away because he wasn’t wrong. For all intents and purposes, the chance of Nate getting his own happy ending was slim to none, considering the way he’d been living his life before.

A swift, odd sense of jealousy hit me then. Because how was it fair that Nate Manning could find himself on the other side of his shit, but I was still somehow taking responsibility for it? When had he ever paid for his own actions? Sure, he’d been arrested a few times, but apart from a few overnights in a holding cell and a couple of sizable fines, he hadn’t truly suffered any consequences.

Then, I remembered what he’d told me. What his mother and her boyfriend had put him through. The trauma. The pain.The lifelong sentence of living with those memories. And I thought,I think he’s suffered enough.

“Hey, so did you ever look into that guy?”

“Which one?” I asked, shoving those thoughts of jealousy and resentment into a dusty drawer to be buried and hopefully forgotten.

“Kate’s old stalker,” he said. “The guy who did time.”

I shook my head. “She said she already did and that it wasn’t him. The guy’s living down south with his mom.”

Nate grumbled a thoughtful sound, then asked, “But does it hurt to look anyway?”

“I mean—"

From the couch, my phone began to ring. The shrill chime seemed to echo through the apartment. I let it ring and go to voice mail. It was probably my parents or—God help me—Saul. I didn’t feel like speaking to either of them right now, and I’d call them back later.

When the ringing stopped, I looked back at Nate and opened my mouth to speak, only for the chime to begin again. It seemed even louder this time, like it was saying,Answer me now, motherfucker.

I groaned and shoved the chair out to stand. I stalked toward the phone and snatched it from the couch, and just as I’d expected, it was Saul.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I repeated, gripping the offending device in my hand. “He’s gonna kill me.”

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