Page 15 of Finders Keepers
Nate needed to kill any and all desire he harbored for Wesley. Even imagining it was nothing but foolishness. He couldn’t afford another trip down Regret Road.
Nate tugged one over-sized square pillow from his bed and then another. As he reached for the third, the ringtone for his sister pealed from his back pocket. He let it ring and hulked the pillows down the hall, his mind spiraling from the weight of what he couldn’t have—what he shouldn’t want—settling like a Zamboni on his chest.
After situating the huge pillows on the guest bed and making a nest for Wesley to settle in, Nate pulled his phone from his pocket and called Claire back.
“Claire Bear, what’s up?”
“I hate when you call me that,” came the exasperated voice of his younger sister.
Nate grinned. He collapsed into the recliner, pushing it into recline mode and tucked his free hand behind his head. “I am never not gonna call you that.” The dialogue was rote by now, but they still engaged in the exchange when Claire was feeling stressed out.
“Ugh.”
“What’s going on?”
“I need to buy books in a couple of weeks, school supplies—gack, that sounds so dumb when you’re in college—and prep for the move into the dorm.”
“Send me the lists with prices of what you think you need and I’ll put some money into the account. I wish I could be there this year to help you get settled, but I’ve got some new-guy admin stuff to finish up.”
“It’s fine, really. It’s my second year. I can handle it.”
“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to do it by yourself. You could ask Mom.”
“Hell no.”
Nate didn’t blame his sister. He was glad that she had also reached the point where she no longer had to spend time in Mom’s toxic presence. Maybe Claire could come stay with himnext summer instead of going home. Of course, that meant he needed a larger place. Or maybe an apartment close to campus for her. Not that he wanted to think of her in a place without supervision and rules. Although to be fair, there’d been a lot of rule-breaking when he’d lived in the dorms during his own stint in college.
“What about Dad?”
“No. Marley’s nine months pregnant.”
“Are you ever gonna forgive him?”
“Have you forgiven him?”
It was a fair question. Nate hadn’t quite forgiven their dad for abandoning him and Claire, but he no longer hated him. But that was more for his own benefit than their dad’s. “Well, I understand why he did what he did.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Claire.” He drew in a short breath and took three times as long to let it out.
“I don’t know that I can forgive him for what he did to you.”
“Claire Bear, I love you so much—”
* * * * *
Cocooned in the cozy nest of pillows Nate had created for him, Wesley woke and stretched, wincing at the pull in his chest. His head still hurt, but the thumping was more like distant knocking than the percussion section of a marching band it’d been earlier. The AC hummed softly, combating whatever temperature the universe was throwing at the city today.
He turned his thoughts to how he’d gotten here—beaten to a bloody pulp, not to Nate’s whatever-floor condo overlooking some part of the city, although that was surreal, too.
The guy who’d beat the crap out of him had been looking for a thumb drive. Which Wesley had absolutely no knowledge of. And which hadnotbeen found in his backpack.
Aw, hell. His Dom uniform as he called it—nice white button down and black dress slacks—was gone. Probably left strewn across the parking lot and run over a million times since the club had cleared out for the night. Not like he’d be going back to the club for a while; he’d be busy with school events for the next couple of months. No time or energy to play Dom, but plenty of time to hit the thrift stores before he put himself back into service. At least he still had his driver’s license, debit card, and phone.
But back to the supposed cause of all his troubles. A thumb drive.
He had them, sure—he was a schoolteacher. But the one in question clearly had nothing to do with third-grade curriculum. And there was no reason a drive like that should’ve been in his designated club backpack.
