He sat on the chair next to mine, and I pointed to his bundled-up feet. “How are you not burning up? It might be October, but this is still Texas.”
“I run cold,” he admitted, typing on the old battered laptop I’d given Adriana when I last upgraded my own.
“I beg to differ,” I replied. “But if you do, you should never have left Texas and gone to the Bay Area where it’s chilly all the time. You should have just stayed here.” I was sorting through payroll notes when I realized what I’d just said. I looked up. “I mean… ah…”
Nico’s jaw ticked. “It’s not like it was a choice.”
“Wasn’t it?”
“What did Adriana tell you?”
“That you probably had a good reason.”
“And you didn’t agree?”
“It’s not that I didn’t agree,” I began. His face darkened at my lie, and I sighed. “No, that’s a lie. I was pissed at you for abandoning her, regardless of the reason.”
His jaw flexed some more, and he looked away. “Fair enough,” he said before peering back at the laptop.
I could tell there was more to it than that. Of course there was. Why the hell had it taken me so many years to realize just how hard it would have been for a fifteen-year-old boy to leave his home? And where the hell had he lived at age fifteen for god’s sake?
My heart ramped up as I watched him. It was like seeing him through fresh eyes.
“Please tell me it wasn’t because of that night,” I said softly.
He grunted an acknowledgment of my words but continued looking at the screen.
“Please, Nico,” I said louder. “Jesus fucking Christ. You heard what Curt said at the movie theater. And then I opened my stupid fucking mouth. Is that why you left?”
Without saying a word, Nico stood up, closed the computer gently, and turned to go to the bedroom.
“Don’t want to talk about it. I’ll figure this shit out later. You don’t have to stick around,” he said over his shoulder.
Chapter 19
Nico
It was a shitty thing to do. I knew that. I’d sounded like a goddamned brat. But it wasn’t something I particularly wanted to discuss, and I wasn’t sure I could say why without bursting into tears like a baby.
I shuffled back to the bedroom and peeled off all the bulky clothes until I was in a T-shirt and boxer briefs before slipping between the cool sheets under the heavy duvet. With one of Adriana’s supersoft pillows bunched up under my head, I closed my eyes and faced away from the bedroom door. My traitorous ears couldn’t help but search for signs of West in the house—wondering if he’d left like I’d told him to or if he’d stayed and was going to force the issue.
My eyes squeezed closed in memory but not the memory of the night at the movie theater. It was something else that had happened a few weeks later.
It was a hot summer day, perfect for the lake. The sun was shining, and the sky was a deep blue. Sheriff Billingham had taken us out on his speedboat for the day in an effort to help the four of us kids get to know each other. Or some shit like that.
It was the town’s Memorial Day celebration, and vendors were lined up along the marina docks and shoreline to celebrate. Farmers’ market stalls were filled with produce and homemade jams, colorful signs and flags and artwork were posted here and there to showcase artist booths set up. Groups of kids chased each other with cotton candy and other treats from the food stalls. And there were piles of whipped cream and empty pie tins stacked on folding tables left over from the pie-eating contest that morning.
The sheriff had suggested taking the opportunity to watch the evening’s fireworks from the boat so we’d have the “best seat in the house” despite the fact all our friends were on shore having fun without us, and the four of us kids at least were less than thrilled.
We were speeding through the warm wind, laid out along the side benches in our swimsuits, when Curt’s brother, Reeve, had asked his dad if he could drive the boat for a little while.
Both boys were proficient at handling the boat. In fact, I wasn’t sure any of the kids from Hobie couldn’t handle themselves on a motorboat. So it surprised me when the boat suddenly lurched toward shore, tipping so far sideways as it crossed its own wake. Water splashed over the edge onto the bench. I scrambled at the side of the boat to grab hold of the gunwale when I heard snickering coming from Curt several feet down the bench from me.
“Jesus, I thought we were going over,” I said with a nervous laugh. Despite being uncomfortable with Reeve at the wheel and still pissed at Curt for what he’d said at the movies, I was trying to be polite and respectful. My mother had warned Adriana and me to be on our absolute best behavior for the outing.