Nate and Emory’s mother died when they were both pretty young. He’s right. It is completely different. She had no choice in leaving them. My father walked out on us of his own volition without so much as a note. Still…
“I think about finding him every day,” I answer his earlier question. “I wouldn’t know how to start or even if I would want to meet him. I have so many questions, but I’m not sure hearing the answers would change anything. You know?”
This isn’t the first time I’ve had this conversation.
The last time I did was so painful I ran.
“I understand,” Nate says. “But if you want help, let me know. I can have an address and phone number within an hour.”
I laugh at his dramatic delivery. Nate works at his father’s cybersecurity company and can get information on pretty much anyone. It’s not that I haven’t thought about asking him to find my dad. The truth is I’m scared. Maybe not knowing is better than having my heart broken all over again.
“Thanks,” I say. “I’ll let you know.”
Nate nods his head once and stands up just as there’s another knock on the door. He throws me a look, and I walk in front of him. “What? I’m a popular girl.”
Stepping into the entryway, I don’t bother looking through the peephole. If it’s a kidnapper, Nate will have him in a chokehold before I finish opening the door.
I run my eyes over the man standing before me. His white shirt clings to his body, showing off the definition beneath. He’s wearing dark jeans and a backward baseball cap, little bits of soft light brown hair spilling out of the front. My eyes catch on his hands, his muscles flexing slightly as he holds two pints of mint chocolate chip ice cream.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi.”
That’s when Nate squeezes past me. He kisses my cheek and gives Ashton a curt nod. “Let me know if you change your mind,” he says to me as he walks to his car.
As soon as I hear his engine start, I turn back to Ashton, and it occurs to me what that could have looked like to him. It probably doesn’t help that I’m standing here in nothing but a T-shirt and underwear.
“It’s not—we didn’t—” I start.
“Can we talk?” he interrupts me.
I move away from the door, granting him access.
“I brought you apology ice cream,” he states, placing the containers down on the kitchen island before wiping the condensation off on his pants.
I eye the containers. Of course, he got the name-brand kind,not the one with the “chocolate-style” chips. Mom always got the name-brand kind for my birthday. Even though she usually had to work, she did try to make it special in her own little way.
“How did you know my favorite?” I ask, circling the top of the container with my finger, my eyes avoiding his.
“Emory,” we both say at the same time.
“So I assume she knows about us?”
“I didn’t tell her anything.” He reaches out, the warmth of his hand covering mine a contrast to the freezing carton.
I quickly grab the container, letting Ashton’s hand fall to the counter as I put the ice cream in the freezer, taking a second to enjoy the cold air hitting my hot face. I motion for him to come into the living room. “Nate came over to chat.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to say that. He knows we’re friends, and I told him we would be exclusive. If he thinks I wouldn’t be true to my word, he can go fuck himself.
“I know,” he says. “I trust you.”
“I just got out of the shower and threw on a shirt.” Again, I feel the need to be clear.He said he trusts you.He has no idea how much that means to me. That even though trust is so hard for me, it’s something I pride myself on. It’s why I felt like I was ripped open the night Emory accused me of betraying her. Why I cried in his arms.
“Allie, I said I trust you. We agreed to be exclusive.” He says, straightening up from his seat on the couch. The same spot Nate just sat in. “Unless something has changed?”
I shake my head. He doesn’t look completely convinced, but I choose to believe he knows I’m telling the truth.
“Look, a baggie of pills fell out of your cabinet when I went to get the medicine for your fever the other day,” he says.I guess we’re getting right into it.“I didn’t go through your stuff. I should have brought it up to you earlier, and not in the way I did last night. I was angry, and it wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.”
Relief runs through my body. He didn’t go through my stuff.I don’t know what I would have done if he had. I know he’s telling the truth because I used to keep the baggie hidden under the Tylenol bottle.
