The words hit me like a physical blow."You know why Mom."
"He’s so convinced it's a good experience, that it'll look good on his applications."Her voice breaks slightly."But I‘m worried about him, you know how Scott operates.”
Yeah, I fucking do know.I know how he controls people, manipulates them until they don't even recognize themselves anymore.
I can see it so clearly—Jake, walking into that sterile office with its leather chairs and mahogany desk, thinking he's proving something.And Scott, with his perfectly pressed suits and calculated charm, seeing an opportunity to get his hooks into his son to turn him into some fucked up protege that’s fuelled by revenge.
"I’ll try talking to him" I start, but she's already shaking her head.
"I already tried to talk him out of it so many times, but he wouldn't listen.”She looks up at me with eyes that are too bright, too desperate."I'm scared, Nate.I'm scared he's going to turn Jake into something he's not.Just like he tried to do with you."
The fear in her voice is raw, primal.
It's the same fear I heard in those late-night phone calls she used to make to Kat when she thought Jake and I were asleep.The same fear that lived in our house for years like another family member, quiet but always present.
I pull her against my chest, feeling how small she seems in my arms.Growing up, I'd watch her through doorways, this shadow of a woman I called Mom, and wonder why she didn't just leave.It wasn't the bruises that confused me—it was her staying.
I still don't know what to do with this anger that lives in my chest.It shows up every time I’m forced to watch her still walking on eggshells in her own home.I want to save her and shake her all at once.
But mostly, I just want to go back in time and hold that little boy who didn't understand that sometimes love and destruction wear the same face.
That's the weight I carry, knowing neither of us had the words for what was happening, and now we're both too tired to find them.
"It's going to be okay, Mom," I murmur into her hair, the words feeling both true and impossible."I'll talk to him."
She pulls back to look at me.
"He's so angry, Nate.At me, at you, at everything.And I don't know what to do anymore."
"I know," I say, because I do.I've been that angry.Hell, part of me still is."But he's not me, Mom.And he's not going to make the same mistakes I did."
The promise feels heavy on my tongue, because honestly?I'm not sure I can keep it.But looking at her face, seeing the way hope flickers there like a candle in the wind, I know I have to try.
Three hours later,I'm standing in Nick's bathroom, staring at my reflection and wondering if I should have stayed in Malaga.The guy looking back at me doesn't look like someone who belongs here anymore.My hair's too long, my tan too dark, and there's something in my eyes that feels too raw for polite society.
"You clean up alright," Nick says from the doorway, adjusting his shirt collar."Ready for this?"
I think about lying, but Nick's seen me at my worst.There's no point in pretense.
"Walking into a room full of people on a good day is hard.Doing it after not seeing any of them for almost a year?"I shake my head."I’d like to say, I’ll need a drink.”
But I don’t do that anymore either.
"I’ll be close, don’t worry.Just try to have a little fun tonight," he says, and the certainty in his voice grounds me."We go in together and whatever happens, we handle it.Deal?"
“Deal.”
The drive to the country club is quiet except for the low hum of the radio.The Verve’s‘Rather Be’plays in the background.I watch the familiar streets blur past, thinking about how different everything looks when you've been away.Everything's exactly where you left it, but somehow it all feels smaller, less significant.
"Hey," I say as we pull into the valet line, expensive cars gleaming under the evening lights."Thank you.I honestly don't know if I'd still be here if it wasn't?—"
"Stop."He cuts me off, his voice firm but not unkind."You never have to thank me or apologize to me.Words are good, promises are great, but actions are even better."
He's right, and I know it.Nick's been there through everything and never asked for anything in return except that I keep trying.
The valet takes Nick's keys, and suddenly we're walking through the main entrance of the Eden Country Club, past the oil paintings of old white men and the crystal chandelier that probably costs more than most people make in a year.The familiar smell of expensive cologne and fresh flowers hits me, along with the sound of polite laughter and clinking glasses.
For the first time in a long time, I feel genuinely nervous.Not the kind of nervousness that comes with worry or fear, but the kind that comes with not knowing how people will see you.The last time most of these people saw me, I was a walking fucking disaster.
