Salvation (17 page)

“
Are you sure I can
’
t get you anything to eat?
”
I offered, mentally kicking myself for my good manners.
“
More coffee?
”
I rinsed my mug and set it under the nozzle for a second hit of caffeine.

“
No, I
’
m good, thanks,
”
he muttered distractedly. With his back to me, Nate faced the window. His shoulders were hunched, both hands now shoved into his trouser pockets. I pressed a palm to my chest, rubbing over my speeding heart. Something wasn’t right.

I made my way over. He glanced sideways when I reached his side, lines forming across his brow. The foreboding knot in my stomach twisted again from the chaos in his eyes. Without saying anything, he moved in front of my desk.

“
Is this your family?
”
Nate stared at the collage of photos in the large frame on the wall above it, but he didn’t really see them, his mind working on other concerns.

“
Mostly.
”
I joined him and pointed to the one taking pride of place in the centre.
“
That
’
s my parents.
”

He leant in for a closer inspection.
“
You
’
re like your mom.
”

My father regularly told me I reminded him of my mother at this age. My height and eye shade had come from him, but the rest of my features were all her.

Before I got to agree, Nate moved on to another.
“
Who
’
s this?
”

The picture of Mai and I wearing Mickey Mouse ears made me giggle every time I saw it. We
’
d taken her nieces to Disneyland a few months ago, and eagerly participated in the silliness.
“
That
’
s my friend, Mai. She works for you too, you know.
”
Hoping to raise a smile and bring back the good-natured man I thought he was, I nudged him playfully with my hips.

The tiniest hint of one appeared when he faced me. I tried figuring out what had happened to the relaxed, playful man from earlier, but all I saw was a lost soul. As his eyes drifted over my face, his frown deepened. Then he let out a soft sigh and returned to the photos.
“
And this one?
”
Nate jabbed a finger at another picture taken on a beach.
“
You two look close.
”
His arms crossed defensively over his chest, drawing further away.

“
What?
”
I chuckled, surprised by the snarky tone in his voice.
“
You really have no reason to be jealous of him.
”

“
I don
’
t get jealous,
”
he snapped, scowling at the photo. His defiance wiped whatever was left of a smile off my face. I wanted to let him fester and not explain, but my prevailing sense of honesty won out.

“
That is my not-so-little baby brother, Liam.
”
He was nineteen in the picture, taken three years ago. His interest in health and fitness was evident even back then, in his athletic muscular frame
—
a good advert for his personal trainer career if, and when, he got a job. I was tall, but huddled barefoot into Liam
’
s six-foot-four bulky frame, I looked tiny.
“
Blonds aren’t my type,
”
I joked, trying again to ease the tension radiating off Nate that left me on edge.

“
What is your type, Kara?
”
he asked accusingly, his face set and eyes assessing.

You.
Tall, dark and unbelievably blue eyes
—
a deadly combination certain to make most women weak at the knees. Last night, before sleeping with him, I
’
d seen something that gave me hope he wasn’t like the rest. At least I thought so; otherwise I wouldn’t have handed myself so willingly to him. Now, the hint of suspicion in his question made me think he didn’t quite trust my motives.

I didn’t get the chance to reply before the intercom buzzed, snapping us from our daze.
“
That
’
s Ross.
”

It took a second to process what Nate said, but when I did, the earth seemed to fall away from my feet. He was leaving, relegating me to the same scrapheap as the untrustworthy fickle women from his past.

Nate stalked to the receiver and answered curtly,
“
I
’
ll be down in a minute.
”
He disappeared into the bedroom, returning a few minutes later with his shoes on and his belongings clasped in his hand.

I gaped at him, trying to remain calm, but fury was bubbling inside of me. With every bit of strength I had, I fought back tears, blinking rapidly as I followed Nate to the front door.
“
I presumed you were st-staying?
”
I mumbled, my voice breaking.

He paused when he reached it, hanging his head. The longer strands of hair swung softly as he shook it. The same strands of hair I
’
d tugged as he gave me the most intense orgasms of my life.

“
I can
’
t stay. It wasn’t meant to be like this.
”
He turned but kept his eyes lowered and said quietly,
“
I have to go.
”

The harrowing pain in my chest grew stronger when he finally lifted his eyes to mine. When he let me see how torn he was, how much inner turmoil he was in, how
guilty
he felt. The anguish in the eyes that held me captive every time I looked into them was heartbreaking.

Nate caught me at the nape. The light touch of his forehead, as he lowered it to mine, forced me to close my eyes. To try and block out everything that had happened. That was happening right now. Nate had fucked me
—
now he was walking away.

In that moment, I think I hated him.

“
I
’
m sorry,
”
he whispered roughly, thumbs stroking the line of my neck.

I wanted to hit him, fist my hands and pummel them against his chest, scream and shout every bit of abuse I could in his face. More than that, I wanted to wrap him in my arms and stop him leaving. Make him talk and explain what was happening.

Nate pressed his lips to my forehead in a last goodbye, then disappeared without a second glance. I let him leave because I was too stunned to do anything else, and pride prevented me from begging him to stay.

As soon as the door latched shut I lost it. Feeling humiliated, pathetic and foolish over falling for his charms, I charged to the door and gave it the beating I wanted to give him. Why did I stupidly think I
’
d be any different? It was all about the chase. Now he
’
d captured me, I was worthless to him.

Needing to vent my frustrations on something else, I stormed to the bedroom and began stripping the bed. I had to erase all traces of Nate. I felt sick as I yanked off the sheets, tormenting me with the memories they held.

They smelt of sex. They smelt of Nate.

I let out a loud, strangled cry and flopped onto the mattress, scrubbing at my face. My chest was tight, aching with despair.

For the first time in a year, I cried over a man.

I don
’
t know how long I stayed there, curled up in the foetal position on my half-stripped bed, hugging my knees and rocking. Through the window, clouds chased across the sky, the sun moved around ready to set on another day. The landline ringing was the only noise that penetrated my daze.

I stumbled into the lounge and answered half-heartedly, expecting it to be Mai and not wanting to discuss what had happened. So it was a big shock to hear my father
’
s voice.

“
Is everything okay?
”
I asked him, calculating through my haze it was almost midnight in England.

“
Yes, darling. I couldn’t sleep so I decided to call my favourite daughter.
”

“
Dad,
”
I laughed,
“
I
’
m your only daughter.
”
I meandered to the desk chair and sat, relieved there wasn’t anything seriously wrong. Hearing the rumble of my father
’
s carefree joy brought comfort at precisely the right time.
“
What
’
s the matter?
”

“
I dreamt of your mother again.
”
George Collins had married Eliza Harris when she was twenty, after a four-year courtship. They were each others firsts and lasts. Their enduring love, tragically cut short, had kept me believing in the fairytale, long after I
’
d lost all hope that the happy ending would ever happen for me.

“
I dream about her too, sometimes.
”
I touched the photo Nate had pointed out fondly, homesick and grieving for my family.
“
Do you want to talk about it?
”

“
It was wonderful. They invariably are,
”
he said mournfully.
“
I
’
m all right, you don’t have to worry about your old dad. What
’
s happening in your world?
”

“
Nothing much. Tell me your news instead.
”
I decided the more I got him talking, the quicker his sorrow would lift, and the less likely he
’
d detect something wrong with me.

He was the greatest father in the world. Growing up, I couldn’t recall a single time he
’
d disciplined me. I
’
d always been able to discuss anything with him, including relationships, and since my mother had gone, we
’
d grown closer still. I shoved the chair back and propped both feet on the desk, contentedly listening whilst he told me his plans for the garden. It brought a lump to my throat when he said how much I was missed, and how excited he was to see me next month.

“
I miss you, too.
”
Right now more than ever.

“
Got a gentleman friend yet?
”

“
You
’
re so old-fashioned,
”
I told him with a quiet laugh, avoiding an answer.

He laughed.
“
One day, Kara, one day it will be your time. The man who deserves my darling girl will enter your life and change your world. He won
’
t expect your love; he
’
ll know he has to earn it, treat you how you deserve to be treated, as the most precious gift in the world. Don’t ever settle for anything less than one hundred percent commitment.
”

I placed my hand to my throat, stroking the exact spot Nate had earlier. Stupidly, I thought he understood the sentiments my father was expressing.
Obviously not.
“
I love you, dad.
”

“
I love you.
”
His voice shook with emotion, how it always did when he spoke from the heart. My unpleasant break-up with Stuart had affected my family more than I liked. George had always had reservations as to whether he
’
d been good enough for the apple of his eye. In retrospect, he was right, and I
’
d vowed to always accept his judgement on any man I met in the future.

Half an hour after ending the call, I snapped my laptop shut on my internet research, wanting to throw it out the window. I was even more pissed off and none the wiser as to what had gone on in Nate
’
s head. I pushed my glasses onto the top of my head. In a fit of petulance, I picked up the tulips and carried them to the kitchen, all the while muttering to myself
—“
love and romance
…
caring and commitment
…
beautiful eyes
…”—
apparently what they were supposed to be telling me.

“
Bullshit.
”
I tossed them into the bin. Then I drew a deep breath and poured a large glass of red.

Yes, I
’
d fallen for his player lines. Yes, he
’
d managed to charm my pants off. But no, I refused to let Nate get to me anymore than he had already.

From somewhere, I gathered enough strength to block out the surprising amount of hurt coursing through my veins, and vowed not to give Nate Blake any more of my time.

Tomorrow was another day. And another day could only mean a step further away from the disaster that was my weekend.

MONDAY MORNING I went about my usual routine with a heavy heart. Not only was I having to go to work, I would have to face Mai and all her questions when I got there. She wouldn’t pass judgement on what I
’
d done. No, she would be more pissed off at Nate than I was. It was highly likely she
’
d head straight to his office and give him a piece of her mind.