My beautiful Nate with his golden eyes and golden heart, the body of a fighter and the scars of a kid who didn’t manage to escape his fate—with those soft lips and that hard pain in his gaze.
So I wait for Kash until late into the night, hoping he knows something I don’t, that he has some words of wisdom to share. He’s older. He has to know more, know better. Right?
Only when he stumbles in and has to lean on the wall for support all thoughts of Nate flee my mind.
“Jesus.” I grab him around the waist, doing my best to keep him upright. He’s so much taller than me it’s no easy task. “Easy.”
“Syd.”
“You’re still sick,” I whisper, sick myself with worry as we make our way to his bedroom and he sinks down on the bed. “I thought you were doing better. You should rest more.”
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
“You’re pushing yourself too hard. Have you eaten? Let me get you something, and then—”
“Red. Stop.” He captures my wrist, drags me down to the bed with him. “I’m much better, I swear. It was just a long day of work. Why are you so worried?”
I bite my lip. “Are you serious? How can I not be worried about you? I care about you.”
His silver lashes shield his eyes, but his face is oddly open and vulnerable. “You don’t really know me.”
“I know enough.” All my questions from earlier rush back in but he has to know I care, right? “We’ve been living together. You’ve been taking care of us. You saved Nate from whatever it is he doesn’t want to talk about. You won’t talk about it, either. What happened to him, Kash? Why won’t he say? Why won’t you? What did you see that night you led us away?”
He turns my hand over, runs his thumb in circles over my palm, sending a shiver of pleasure through me. “You love Nate.”
That statement, so simple, so true, flutters between us.
“I…” I don’t dare look at him. “I do. Which is why I want to help him.”
He nods, his thumb never stopping its maddening, pleasurable journey from my fingers across my palms and down to my wrist, then back again. “He won’t talk about this willingly.”
“No.”
“I thought he’d open up to you. The way he looks at you…”
“Like what?”
“Like he’d give his last breath for you.”
I pull my hand away. “Don’t say things like that. Besides, he can’t even touch me. The other day he…” He kissed me. We kissed. But the words stick in my throat. “We hugged, and he had a sort of panic attack.”
He nods again. Doesn’t look surprised.
“Tell me, Kash. What did you see?”
He leans back against his pillows, shoves ash-blond hair out of his face, then folds both muscular, tattooed arms behind his head, causing his T-shirt to ride up, exposing his ripped stomach.
Jeez, this boy. We’re having a serious conversation, but suddenly all my attention is on that rippling six-pack. When did he turn from a gorgeous boy next door into a sex god? It’s a miracle the sheets haven’t caught on fire, he’s so hot.
“I saw his stepmom,” he says.
Tearing my gaze away from those sexy abs, I blink at him. “What?”
“That night. His stepmom came out of her bedroom dressed in this… semi-transparent nightgown.” He grimaces.
Um. “Okay. I’m sorry you had to see that. But what’s that got to do with Nate?”
“He was in her room. His parents’ room, I guess. His dad had friends over, in the living room, and his stepmom went into the bathroom, and I found Nate… in that bedroom.”