Page 100 of Coming Home

His hands covered his face. Blood poured from his nose when he removed his hands. His eyes squinted as if in pain.

“Are you okay?” she asked, reaching for him.

Clayton’s eyes went wide as he pushed her away. “You’re naked!”

Nat yelped, stepped back, and crossed her arms over her body. Noah handed her his Henley. He’d tugged on his boxer briefs. She slipped the Henley on. It hung on her like a loose dress, stopping mid-thigh.

“You’re naked,” Clayton repeated as if in a daze. He stood up facing them, blood raining down from his nose. “You…you were fu…fu…fu…fucking.”

“Clayton.” Noah’s tone was quiet as he stepped beside Nat, placing his hand in hers. “We’re?—”

Clayton lifted his hands, stopping Noah’s words. Then, his hands went to his face touching the blood. Pulling them back, he examined the red blots on his hand and then lifted his gaze to Nat. Disappointment swam in his eyes.

Nat’s heart fell to the floor. As if she was a little girl again, caught by her big brother borrowing a toy she had been told not to play with.

Clayton shook his head and walked away.

CHAPTER FORTY

“…for love casts out fear, and gratitude can conquer pride.”~Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

Motionless and silent for several moments, Nat and Noah stared at Clayton as he retreated. Thethwackof the front door slamming reverberated in the house. The disappointment that had shaded Clayton’s gray eyes was the same emotion that swam in Evan’s eyes when she’d argued with him. The night he’d died. The last image of Evan was of his disappointed eyes as she called him a jerk and walked away. Now, she’d done it to another brother.

I’ve disappointed him.

“Baby, no,” Noah soothed, wrapping his arms around her.

Had she spoken her thoughts out loud? How did he know?

“It’s not your fault.” His hands caressed the length of her back.

Nat tipped her face up. “He shouldn’t have found out like this. If I had listened to you and Summer, if we’d told everyone sooner, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Painful guilt clogged in her chest. The obsession with waiting for the perfect time and perfect way to tell Clayton led to the most imperfect way for him to find out about them.

He kissed her forehead. “I don’t like how Clayton found out about us, but we didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong. Well, except I should have locked the front door.”

She chuckled through her sniffles.

He cupped her face. “Let’s get dressed. We’ll go to Clayton’s together. We’ll talk to him together.”

All the feelings curdled in her belly as they pulled into the farmhouse. The crunch of gravel beneath her sneakers with each step grated like bone-on-bone pain. Noah’s outstretched hand beckoned her. Threading their fingers, they walked up the steps.

“Ready?” Noah asked, his gaze searched hers.

“Yes.” She squeezed his hand, so strong and steady in her grip.

She held her breath as she knocked. The door swung open. Elle’s face was drawn in a weary smile.

“May we come in?” Nat asked, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the wooden porch.

“Of course,” Elle said, her tone gentle. “He’s in the kitchen.”

Lizzie and Fitz barreled passed Elle to greet Nat and Noah. With quick pets, they followed her to the kitchen. Clayton sat at the dining room table, a frozen bag of peas over his right eye. Specks of dried blood stained his gray T-shirt.

“I can look at that if you want,” Nat offered, pointing to Clayton’s face. It probably wasn’t the best opening line. Perhaps,“I am so sorry you walked in on your little sister post-mind-blowing sex on a kitchen table with your lifelong best friend still inside her” would be more appropriate.

Clayton plopped the bag of peas onto the table. “I’m fine.”

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