Off The Cards: Faking it #2 Page 4

  "Don’t be vague, Nathan." I was shaking from head to toe as I spoke. "You told me she had something over your family. I want to know what that is."

  "I made a promise not to tell a soul," he whispered. He looked guilty and pained and it wasn’t enough for me.

  "Then I can't do this."

  This conversation was pointless.

  Nothing good could come from it.

  He wasn’t going to give me full disclosure.

  Nate kept talking in riddles and I was done with it.

  It was too much.

  Breaking free from Nathan, I ran until I was out of the school and halfway across the student parking lot.

  Sweat trickled down my brow as I ran, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t care if I got in trouble for cutting class.

  The repercussions of being absent seemed inconsequential in comparison to what would happen if I stayed.

  Adrenalin was pulsing through my body and the survival instinct inside of me was urging me to keep going.

  Don’t stop.

  Get away now.

  ****

  Chapter Four

  I WAS ABOUT FOUR BLOCKS from my house, in a neighboring residential street, when exhaustion finally overcame me. Breathless and panting, I sank down on the sidewalk outside of a pretty house, surrounded by a white picket fence, placed my hands on the concrete and tipped my face up towards the sky. The concrete was warm to the touch; the Alabama sun relentless and unforgiving.

  What the heck was I going to do?

  Everything was screwed up.

  I had ruined it.

  Me…

  No! Nate had ruined everything. And my so-called mother.

  I was so absorbed in my thoughts and self-loathing that I didn’t hear the old, beat-up Chevy when it pulled up alongside me. I didn’t take note of the truck door slamming or the footsteps drawing closer. It wasn’t until I felt someone sit down beside me and place their hand on mine that I became aware of his presence.

  "You shouldn’t have followed me," I finally said, staring straight ahead.

  "I couldn’t not follow you," Nate shot back. His hand was still covering mine and even though I knew I should pull away, I couldn’t. Because deep down, I still wanted his touch.

  To me, Nathan's touch was home and it was hard to run from your home. Especially when it was where you wanted to be more than anywhere else in the world.

  "You didn’t tell Jackson." Stretching out his legs, he looked up and down the deserted street, hand still covering mine. "Why didn’t you tell him, Andi?"

  It wasn’t the conversation starter I had expected from him, but I answered him nevertheless. "How could I?" I whispered, refusing to look at him. I knew what Nathan was referring to and it made me sick. "You saw the way he reacted at lunch. He hates my guts. He can't stand to be in the same room as me let alone hold a conversation." Sighing heavily, I added, "Besides, I don't want him to know about this." Clenching my eyes shut, I exhaled a trembling breath. "Contrary to popular belief, I do love my brother. And I don’t ever want him to have to feel the way I'm feeling now."

  Jackson was hurt and he was lashing out because that's all he knew.

  We hadn't been brought up in a loving home with parents who explained to us how to react to upsetting situations. He reacted the way he had because that was all he knew. He was used to violent outbursts and cruel words when cornered.

  When met with something upsetting, my brother reacted with fire in his veins and poison on the tip of his tongue.

  I, on the other hand, didn’t react at all.

  That was the difference between us.

  Jackson was used to being in complete control of both his life and mine. It was the way it had always been and, up until now, I had happily complied and handed full control over to him.

  He was a good guy.

  His behavior at lunch today didn’t erase the seventeen years of kindness he'd shown me and if I knew Jackson, like I thought I did, he would be feeling horrible right about now.

  "I'm so sorry, Andi," Nate finally said, voice low and full of pain.

  I knew he was staring at me. I could feel his eyes on the side of my face. His arm was brushing against mine and the heat emanating from his skin made me feel all warm inside. I realized then that I was slightly broken inside. I mean, how could I not be? This was disturbing and wrong and I should run away from him, but still I stayed.

  "Was she better?" I croaked out, unable to meet Nate's eye. Dropping my chin, I stared downwards as I asked the unspoken question that had tormented me for almost a month. "My mother. Did she make you feel better than I did?" Exhaling a shaky breath, I forced myself to look up at his face when I said, "Was my mother better than me, Nathan? Was Dallas? Were all of them better than me?"

  "Jesus Christ, Andi," Nate groaned. Reaching forward, he cupped my face between his hands and pressed his brow to mine. "No one compares to you," he whispered, brown eyes locked on mine. "No one can compete with you." His mouth was so close to mine that his spearmint flavored breath filled my senses. I couldn’t stop myself from leaning into his touch, and when Nate stroked my hair with one of his hands, I could hardly stand the intimacy of it. We sat like that for another minute before the reality and weight of what had happened pulled me out of the moment.

  "I should go home." Feeling deflated and overly exposed, I climbed to my feet and dusted down my jeans. "I'm tired of going around in circles with you and I need to take my insulin."

  "Where's your bag?" Nate was quick to ask. "Didn’t you bring your pen with you?"

  "I did, but I left my bag at school," I muttered, feeling dumb.

  "I'll give you a ride," he replied, climbing to his feet.

  "No thanks," I was quick to shoot back. Being here with him was dangerous enough; getting into his truck would be lethal. "Bye." Turning around before he had a chance to reply, I rushed down the sidewalk in the direction of my street.

  I made it about eight feet when I was suddenly yanked off my feet and airborne.

  "I'm driving you home, Andi," Nate said in a warning tone as he tossed me over his shoulder and marched back to his truck. "You need your insulin."

  "It's only four blocks," I muttered, not bothering to put up much of a fight. "I can manage." I was feeling weak and didn’t have the energy to go head to head with him. Besides, he was right. I did need my insulin a lot more than I needed my pride.

  "You might be willing to take risks with your health," he shot back unapologetically, "but I'm not. Don’t fight me on this." Dropping me onto my feet, Nate reached around my body and yanked open the passenger door. "Get in." He was too close to me and his closeness was causing me to have all sorts of inappropriate thoughts. "Come on, Andi. Get in my truck or I'll put you in."

  Climbing in before I did something stupid like throw myself at Nate and kiss him, I fastened my seatbelt and released a shaky breath.

  This boy affected me like no one else.

  I needed to be careful around him.

  He was dangerous and bad and completely wrong for me.

  I needed to remember that.

  Nate climbed into the driver's seat beside me and, almost instantly, my pulse skyrocketed.

  Forcing myself to remain impassive, I stared straight ahead, unwilling to take the risk of glancing over at him.

  Neither of us spoke a word the entire ride to my house.

  I physically couldn’t.

  I was barely keeping hold of the steering wheel of my life; if I kept talking to him, I would lose myself just like always. You see, Nathan Cole was my addiction and I hadn't been clean for nearly long enough to resist him. I guess that was the problem with addictions. You knew they were bad for you, lethal to your health, toxic to your mind, and still they drew you in regardless.

  He did that to me.

  Nathan made me feel like I had to have him. One look at his face and I was overcome with consuming need, and that knowledge scared me half to death. It was especially hard to resist my feelin
gs when the best parts of my life consisted of memories and milestones when Nathan Cole was right by my side.

  "Just do it," I begged, clenching my eyes shut. I couldn’t stand to watch the needle go in, much less inject myself with my insulin.

  "Yeah, well, I would if you kept still long enough for me to do it," Nate grumbled as he knelt on the edge of my bed, his baseball cap slung backwards and a needle in his hand. "You're like a slippery eel," he added with a huff as he tried – and failed – to catch ahold of my skin between his fingers. "I can't catch ahold of you long enough to stick you," he added, tongue peeking out in concentration.

  This was our fourth attempt at administering my insulin. Our nanny always gave me my medication, but she had stormed out of the house this morning after a blazing row with our mother and hadn't come back since. Neither had our mother.

  Knowing that I needed my medication, Jackson had tried to do it, but passed out from the sight of the needle. I was too squeamish to even attempt it.

  Therefore, the task had been handed down to Nate.

  I should have been terrified; the sight of a nine-year-old boy wielding a syringe above me, but I somehow wasn’t. Somewhere deep down inside of me, I knew this boy wouldn’t hurt me. And somewhere even deeper down inside, I knew that even if he did, I wouldn’t care.

  THE MOMENT NATE pulled into my driveway and killed the engine, that familiar tingling feeling erupted low in my belly. Shaking my head, I drew myself back to the present. My heart sank the moment my eyes locked on my mother's shiny red Mercedes Benz parked horizontally in front of the house. A pain like no other sucker punched me in the gut. "She's back."

  Normally, my mother's presence would have little to no effect on me, but now that I knew about her and Nate…

  Oh god, my chest squeezed so tight, I struggled to draw in a breath.

  I actually thought I might faint.

  I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to cuss Nathan Cole out so bad in this moment and tell him that this was all his fault. I wanted to call him names, and make him feel like I was feeling now. I wanted him to feel the jealousy and betrayal I was presently drowning in. But I was a good Southern girl and had been brought up with an almost inherent instinct to not disgrace myself. I kept my pain on the inside and my mouth shut, like I'd been raised to do.

  "Thanks for the ride."

  Nate looked pained as he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, gaze torn between me and the house. "Do you want me to come inside with you?"

  "With me, or to see her?" I shot back.

  "With you," he ground out through clenched teeth.

  "Aren't you afraid of being here when Jackson comes home?" I tossed out, daring to look at his face. "He hates you, too, you know."

  "Honestly, I'm more afraid of leaving than staying."

  His reply threw me and I frowned. Releasing a heavy breath, I whispered, "Why?"

  "Because I'm losing you," he admitted. "And the thought fucking terrifies me."

  "You've already lost me," I whispered, even though my subconscious screamed liar.

  "You want to know why I did it?" he asked. "You want the truth?"

  I nodded slowly. "I want the truth."

  "You know what they say about the truth hurting," he added, his breath fanning my face. "If I tell you, there's no going back."

  I exhaled heavily, facing him. "It can't hurt worse than this."

  "What if I told you that I did it to protect you, as well?" Nate's voice was low and cautious. "Would you believe me?"

  "I doubt it," I breathed, heart racing. "Is that what you're saying, Nate?"

  "I don’t know what I'm saying," he shot back, never taking his eyes off mine. "I guess I'm trying to weigh up which is gonna hurt you more. What I did…or the reason I did it." Reaching out, he tucked my braid behind my ear, his brown eyes searing me. "I'm trying to figure out what truth is most painless."

  "Knowing that you slept with my mother." I shuddered and shook my head. "Nothing could be worse than that."

  "Don’t be so sure," he whispered before adding, "There's a lot of shit you don’t know, Andi. A lot of shit you've been protected from. Things Jackson's protected you from..." His voice broke off and he took a moment before whispering, "Things I've tried to protect you from." Sincerity flooded his voice, confusing me, rendering me speechless. "Come to my trailer tonight."

  "Nate, you know I can't…"

  "I need you to come over so I can explain this all to you. So I can show you." His voice was urgent. "Can you do that for me, Andi? Can you hear me out? I've got no doubt you're gonna hate me, baby, but at least you'll hate me for the truth." Shaking his head, he released a heavy sigh and nodded once to himself. "Come by my trailer tonight and I'll tell you everything."

  I shook my head. "You know I'm not allowed out –"

  "Please," he urged, moving closer to me. Reaching over, he caught my chin in between his fingers and pulled my face to his. "Do this one fucking thing for me."

  "I'll try."

  I was such a fool.

  ****

  Chapter Five

  "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HOME?" my mother demanded when I walked into my bedroom.

  I'd hoped to avoid her altogether which was why I'd gone straight to my room. Unfortunately for me, she'd beat me to it.

  "I felt sick," I lied. "What are you doing in my room?" She was standing by my bed with my sheets stripped off the mattress and scattered on the floor. My gaze honed in on the laundry basket at her feet. It was filled with my personal property. "That's my stuff, Momma," I gasped, eyes locked on the basket. "My laptop and my phone." I looked up at her in horror. "And my diary?"

  "And what about these?" Mom dragged a three pack of condoms out of her back pocket. "Do these belong to you too, Adriana?"

  My face reddened and instantly gave me away. Of course they belonged to me. Why else would a pack of condoms be hidden in my pillowcase. Ivy had thrown them into my shopping basket at the pharmacy that day. Still, I decided to shrug and act dumb. I was in a no win situation and I wasn’t foolish enough to believe I could talk my way out of this one.

  I looked a lot like her. We had the same white blonde hair, and blue eyes, but where my mother played up her looks, I did the opposite.

  Up until this exact moment in time, it had never bothered me how similar our appearances were. It did now. Now that I knew about her and Nate.

  I hated her.

  Honest to god, I hated the woman.

  Of all the men in the world, she had to dig her claws into the one I loved.

  "No answer?" Mom demanded, her blue eyes narrowed. "Hmm?"

  "What do you want me to say?" I settled on asking. This confrontation would be a lot easier if I knew what she wanted from me.

  "I want you to tell me who you plan on using these on?" she instructed. "Right now, young lady."

  I knew it. Mom didn’t care about the condoms or the fact that I may or may not be sexually active. That was on Dad. He was the one obsessed with his rep. My mother didn’t care about anything that happened in my life. No, this was about something else.

  "I'm seventeen," I heard myself say. "One year older than you were when you had Jackson."

  My mother's face turned an unflattering shade of purple. She wasn’t used to hearing me speak back and, to be quite honest, neither was I. I'd surprised myself. "I was in a loving and committed relationship with your father, Adriana."

  "I know," I replied flatly. "You've told me this story before." Over and over again. But that's all it was; a story. A line my parent's had rehearsed and had nailed to perfection. The truth was my father had screwed around in high school – a lot - like he did now, but without taking risks, and knocked Mom up and had to protect the family name like the good, god fearing, southern boy he was.

  "Tell me, Adriana," Mom argued. "Or would you prefer to have this conversation with your father?" When I didn’t answer, my mother cocked a finely plucked eyebrow. "Don’t push me, girl, or I will tell him." />
  "They're mine," Jackson's voice came from behind me, shocking the heck out of our mother, and causing every ounce of blood in my body to rush to my face.

  "Yours?" Mom asked in a sarcastic tone, not believing for one moment my brother owned them. "You expect me to believe the condoms I just found stuffed inside your sister's pillowcase are yours?"

  "Guess how many fucks I give about what you believe?" Jackson shot back coolly. "I'll give you a clue. Zero fucks, Mom. Not a one." He stepped towards me and dropped my school bag at my feet.

  "Thank you." Immediately, I crouched and unzipped my bag to retrieve my meds. I kept my face down as I injected myself in the stomach, feigning concertation on a task I could easily do blindfolded.

  "Why would you hide condoms in your sister's bedroom?" I heard my mother ask and I kept my face down, worried that my red cheeks and guilty expression would give me away.

  "Well, Mother, maybe if you bought your own every once in a while, I wouldn’t have to hide my shit in here," Jackson shot back without missing a beat. Sauntering into my bedroom, he swiped the pack from our mother's hand. "Thanks for taking care of these, Andi-Pandy," Jackson chimed, not meeting my eye, as he stalked past me.

  "No problem," I squeezed out, feeling worse that he knew I was having sex than our mother.

  "Jackson!" Mom called out as she rushed out of my bedroom, hot on my brother's heels. "Don’t you dare walk away from me when I'm talking to you."

  It wasn’t until I heard the front door slam and my mother's distant voice calling out Jackson's name that I breathed a sigh of relief.

  Jackson covered for me.

  He was mad as hell at me, disappointed even. He knew what I intended to do with those condoms and who I intended to use them with, but he still cared enough to protect me from our parent's wrath.

  The thought warmed my heart and gave me hope that, perhaps in time, we could repair our relationship.

  ****