Stepbrother Untouchable(56)

“You locked it?” he asks, looking hurt.

“I want to be alone right now,” I murmur, though a knot forms in my throat at the thought of spending the first night in a week without him.

“I…I can't choose between you,” he whispers. He looks so forlorn, and I see a glimpse of the little boy that he once was, overhearing his parents' arguments.

“I know.”

“They're going to some charity lunch tomorrow afternoon…maybe we could spend some time together.”

“OK,” I nod, my mind already moving in a different direction.

He pauses, unsure if he should kiss me. “Alright, goodnight,” he says, and walks down the hallway to his bedroom.

I close and lock the door after him, then grab my cell phone and put in Eileen's number. Tomorrow afternoon, I text her. I'll let you know when my parents are gone, and then you come meet Nate.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX





I yawn as I sit by my window, waiting for the sounds of my mom and Pierce leaving. I wasn't able to sleep well at all last night. There were too many worries rattling around in my brain. Mainly, though, it felt strange not to see Nate. I missed his presence in my bed with a physical ache that gnawed away at me.

Finally I hear some movement in the rest of the house. I walk to my door and crack it open, sticking my head out into the hall. I can just hear my mom murmuring something to Pierce as they make their way to the garage. Soon I hear the car pulling out of the driveway and I glance at the clock. I'll give them ten minutes.

I wait impatiently, and as soon as it's up, I text Eileen and head down to the foyer. Luckily Nate has been safely ensconced in his room all morning. I don't know if he even got up to train this morning, which is highly unusual for him. I glance out the window next to the door and see Eileen walking up the driveway.

“Hi,” I murmur quietly as she reaches the steps and I open the door.

“Hi,” she replies nervously, smoothing her blouse. “Do I look alright?”

“You look fine,” I assure her. I can't imagine how she must feel, finally seeing her son face-to-face after all these years. She looks around the foyer.

“God, this place is even bigger than it looks from outside.”

“I know. It's ridiculous,” I agree, and usher her into the den. “Pierce and my mom are at some charity lunch, so they'll be gone for a while,” I tell her. She bites her lip nervously and takes a seat on the couch. “I'll call Nate down, alright? I haven't told him anything…I wasn't sure he would come otherwise.” She nods, and I head to the stairs. “Hey, Nate?” I yell, and hear his bedroom door open. “You wanna come down to the den?”

I feel a fissure of guilt as he replies happily, “Sure! Be right there,” and I hear him moving around. I don't like the idea of setting a trap and lying to him, but I rationalize that it's in the service of a greater truth, that of the true nature of his parents' relationship, and his father's character.

I walk back into the den, and stand nervously next to the couch where Eileen's sitting. She stands as we hear Nate walking down the stairs, and then he turns the corner and sees us. His face is a blank as he surveys the scene before him. He takes a step forward, looks like he's going to say something, and then steps back.

“Nate, it's me, your mom,” Eileen whispers.

“I know who you are,” Nate replies quietly. He turns to me. “You did this?”

“I think you should hear what she has to say. Please, will you just sit for a minute?”

Nate's face twists into a sneer—an expression I haven't seen in weeks. “You're unbelievable,” he spits at me, and storms out the front door, slamming it behind him. Eileen sits down with a muted cry, and I run after him.

“Nate!” I call as I shut the door behind me and head down the front steps. He's walking around the side of the house, probably headed for the garage and his car to make an escape. “Would you just listen to me for a second?”

“Why? So you can try to poison my mind against my dad some more?” he yells, reeling around.

“I'm trying to tell you the truth about him! Eileen can tell you—”

“Oh, so this is all about you! You can try to paint it as some benevolent way of getting a mother and son to reunite, but really, this is all about getting me to believe your story,” he turns again and begins to walk away across the grass.

“No! That's not true!” I protest, pursuing him. “Your mom is a good person—I wanted to help her, and you.”

“You're pathetic, you know that?” he says, spinning around again. “Stop following me. Whatever mistakes we made together this summer, it's over.”