Garrett moved to get out of the pool. "If you guys don't tell me shit like this, how the hell am I supposed to know?"
Justine tipped her head to one side. "Language, darling," she rebuked softly, moving to get her son a towel. "Nick, be a sweetie and hand Courtney a towel."
Courtney swam over to the steps and slowly began to rise from the pool. As Justine turned and went back inside with Garrett following her, making a comment about being starved, Nick watched his mother and brother go inside the house. When they were out of sight, his stance relaxed somewhat. Then he turned back toward her with a towel open and ready, a sudden strain coming over his features as she came to stand in front of him. His large frame seemed to become infinitely still, and suddenly embarrassed to be soaking wet in a skimpy bikini when she hadn't been the least bit embarrassed before, Courtney lowered her face and her eyes fell from his.
He wrapped the large towel around her until it covered her from shoulders to knees and she grabbed the two ends at her throat to hold it together. Barefoot while he wore shoes, she was very aware of how he towered over her, even more so than usual.
One masculine hand clenching around her shoulder, he lifted her chin with a determined finger. As he leaned in with an intractable posture, Courtney lost the battle and looked into his eyes. "You need to take better care," he bit out with precision.
She licked her lips, light-headed from the situation she suddenly found herself in. Nick hadn't shown her this much attention in months, even if the attention he was giving her was only anger. "I'm fine."
Letting out a harsh bark of laughter, he lifted a single eyebrow, looking none too happy. "That's a fact, sweetheart." Before she had time to digest his meaning, his features turned menacing once again. "And I'm telling you that you need to take care and make sure you don't have a relapse, understand me?"
Once again, her brain splintering in total confusion because of Nick Rule, she nodded her head, too tongue-tied to even begin to think of arguing with him.
"Go get dressed," he snapped.
She watched him for only a couple of seconds, totally confused by his mood swings, and then she'd turned and fled . . .
Courtney emerged from her reminiscing. After the swimming pool episode, Nick had stayed away from the house for several long weeks. When he'd finally started visiting again, it was sporadically at best, and he'd paid her little attention. But then another memory hit her. This occurrence had happened many months after the first; she'd been twenty years old at the time.
Courtney had made casual friends in St. Louis, but none like the life-long friends she'd left in Florida. Jill and Trish were roommates at The University of Florida. They'd been begging Courtney to apply to the college and come home, and when their third roommate had dropped out of school unexpectedly, leaving an unoccupied bedroom in their apartment, the two girls intensified their campaign to get Courtney to join them.
It had made Courtney feel a sense of belonging again, of having her friends back, and unexpectedly, she found herself becoming excited for the first time since losing her parents. It had taken years, but finally, she began caring about her future. She wanted to go to Florida.
With Justine's blessing and a promise of financial help, Courtney had applied and been accepted as a transfer student. The very next evening after she'd opened the acceptance letter and excitedly told her godmother the good news, she'd overheard an argument coming from the downstairs study. The voices had been so loud that she'd frozen in place.
Justine had been out shopping with friends and evidently, Nick and Damian had arrived before their mother had made it home. Courtney easily recognized their voices, the heated exchange between the brothers halting her in her tracks as she walked past the door that stood only a few inches ajar.
Nick's was the first voice that Courtney recognized and it was filled with such fury that her feet had immediately faltered.
"Bullshit."
"What the hell is wrong with you, Nick?" Damian had challenged.
"Nothing. There's not a goddamn thing wrong with me. What the fuck is wrong with you that you think it's acceptable for Courtney to go running off across the country?" At the sound of her name, Courtney had given up any pretense of not listening and leaned against the wall with her palms plastered to the wainscoting.
"She's twenty-years old," Damian continued to argue. "We let Erin leave when she was only eighteen."
"Erin stayed in state," Nick all but yelled. "Only a couple of hours away. This is totally different."
"Nick. Calm the fuck down and think this through. Garrett went to school in Texas and you didn't have a problem with that."