Page 2 of Surrender
It was James’ freshman year when a moving truck pulled up outside the empty house next door, and Nate, who was all arms and legs with a tuft of red hair on his head, climbed out of the truck’s cab.
James saw past Nate’s worn clothes, suspicious scars, and the constant scowl that kept every other person at a firm distance. My brother’s determination to be friends with the kid who had none, no doubt, drove Nate insane until, at some point, he just gave in.
The two had been inseparable ever since.
“Find me in the room,” Nate ordered, instantly forcing me to focus on him and only him. It was something he told me years ago when he walked in on me having one of my very first panic attacks.
Find me in the room.
I think at the time he was just trying to give me something solid and safe to focus on while I rode it out, but ever since then, when I found myself getting overwhelmed, I always heard his voice. And I searched for him even when he wasn’t actually there.
“Darcy,” he said nervously, his usual calm tone catching a slight edge. “So help me fucking god if you pass out on me, Tiny Dancer.”
I choked out a laugh at the ridiculous nickname he refused to let die, which seemed to be exactly what I needed to shock my body back into working order, my lungs suddenly remembering their damn job.
It took a few long minutes, but as my breathing began to slow, I licked my lips, daring to finally say the words I didn’t want to believe were true. “It’s cancer.”
He cleared his throat before he risked speaking, “I heard.”
Nate wasn’t known for being a big talker.
The first time he tapped on my window looking for James, he kept his hood up and barely spoke a single word as I stepped aside to let him climb through. It wasn’t until the third or the fourth time he appeared that I realized what was happening, piecing the silent clues together myself because he would have never admitted it on his own.
The blood.
The bruises.
The scars.
All coupled with the raised, muffled voices I could hear over the fence.
From then on, the window remained unlocked.
There were nights I couldn’t sleep until I heard him squeeze his body through the tight space and tiptoe across my bedroom floor, managing to avoid every creaky floorboard before slipping out the door and into the hall, heading for James’ room.
The moment the door clicked closed behind him, I would let out the breath of relief I was holding, knowing he was here, knowing he was safe. Not next door at his place with an abusive dad and a drug-addicted mom—the two reasons why my parents never called him out or objected to him sneaking into theirhouse through their teenage daughter’s bedroom.
No one had even given it a second thought, but recently, things had begun to change.
At first, it was just glances that were too long to be completely innocent, then it was the way we’d brush past each other in the hallway, and Nate’s fingers would find mine, or how he’d lean in closer while we were talking, or the three of us were playing cards.
He always made sure I won.
We both knew how close we were riding the line, but were unsure what would happen if or when we crossed it.
What I did know was that we shared a person.
James was the rock we held to, and neither of us wanted to jeopardize the relationships we had. He kept us both going.
And I knew with this news, Nate was hurting as much as I was.
My body shaking, I swiped a couple of stray tears from my eyes. “I don’t know how to do life without him,” I whispered, my voice cracking as a dull laugh fell from my lips. “I’ve never lived in a world where he wasn’t there to help me search the house for Christmas presents when Mom and Dad are out, or hoot and whistle at the end of my ballet recitals like he’s at a damn football game.”
“And going on with our lives without him is going to be like fucking hell,” Nate murmured, finally standing to his full height and taking a step forward. With the sunlight behind him almost gone, my eyes gently adjusted to the darkness, and I could finally see his face and the redness in his eyes. “But we will.”
My bottom lip trembled, and I fought the wave of tears pooling on my waterline. “How?” I demanded, squeezing my hands into tight fists. “How, Nate?”
“Come here.”
