Page 1 of Freefall

1

NATE

I’m not sure when I first realized I was different—that I had a darkness inside me that most people didn’t. If I had to guess, I’d say it was around middle school. Jackie Norway asked me to meet her in the woods behind the bleachers after class one day. I knew what that meant, what usually went on back there, and even though it nearly made me break out in hives, I went anyway. Before I even knew what was happening, she stood on her tiptoes and smashed her lips into mine. It was my first kiss, sloppy and wet, and I couldn’t wait for it to be over.

But instead of pulling away, I bit her lip, and she screamed, wrenching herself away from me. I remember the look of confusion on her face as tears streamed down her cheeks and blood dotted her bottom lip. The way her hands fisted the fabric of her dress in apprehension. I didn’t like that I made her cry. It was the opposite, in fact. I had this overwhelming need to hug her, to tell her everything would be okay, or at least apologize, but she ran away before I could.

Later that day, I realized that while I hated scaring her, I liked that I hurt her. It made me feel like I was in control for once in my life, and in turn, that quieted the panic that lived inside my head. At the same time, it confused the ever-loving shit out of me. It wasn’t normal. You shouldn’t want to hurt the girl you’re kissing, right?

“Nate, are you listening to me?”

I look up at the sound of my father’s smooth voice, the memories dissolving into the background. Peering over his shoulder, I count the picture frames hanging behind his desk again. There are five, my least favorite number. It’s uneven and makes everything feel off. Every time I’m in his office, I want to tell him to get another frame, but my self-preservation kicks in.

He’d think you’re crazy.

So instead, I choke down the anxiety and flick my eyes back to him. “I heard you. The Fletcher account needs attention. They had a breach. I’ll get Seb on it. Anything else?”

He sighs, removing his glasses, so he can rub his eyes with his index finger and thumb. He replaces them, running a hand through his dark, almost black hair. It’s the same color as mine, or it was before time streaked it with grays. “That was five minutes ago. Did you hear what I said about the internal changes?”

“Of course,” I lie.

His brow furrows, but he doesn’t call my bluff. I do hear him mumble under his breath, and it sounds a lot like “maybe this was a mistake.”

He sits up, absentmindedly twirling his wedding band with his fingers. I don’t know why it bothers me that he still wears it. Maybe because it’s a constant reminder that she’s gone, or maybe because somewhere deep down I know it makes him a better man than me. Not even death could make him give up on the love of his life.

He abandoned his children when they needed him most, I remind myself.

“I’m stepping down as CEO,” he says easily, as if it’s not the most shocking sentence he’s ever uttered. I can’t believe I missed that the first time.

“You’re… what?”

“Stepping down as⁠—”

“No, I heard you.” The irritation creeps into my voice before I can stop it.

I realize that most people in my position would be waiting with bated breath for his next words. I’m his second in command, and the most logical choice as his successor. Yet, all I feel is anger welling up in the pit of my stomach.

My father started Caldwell Security when he was in his twenties. Granted, he didn’t come from nothing. His wealthy background certainly helped him start the business, but he grew it into the billion-dollar cybersecurity company it is today. It wasn’t just blood, sweat, and tears he put into it. He gave up his family.

His kids.

Me.

I don’t mean that he stayed late at the office or brought his work home. I mean he literally abandoned us after my mom died. He let my grandparents raise us while he dropped in now and again.

Now he’s…stepping down? Just like that?

“Nate…” he says again.

“Why?” I hear the accusation lacing my voice the second the word leaves my mouth.

He leans forward, placing his elbows on the desk. “Nate, I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”

Well, that’s the fucking understatement of the century.

“I know I don’t have to tell you that.” He turns his head, and his eyes wander to one of the five picture frames. I watch as they stray from his wedding photo and land on one of my nephew. Rowan is a little over a year old, but in the picture, he’s barely a month, maybe two.

He clears his throat. “I want to spend more time with my grandson. I didn’t get enough…” he trails off.