Twirled Bond (Holly Woods Files, #5) (33 page)

“You’re here,” she says softly. “Are you sure?”

“Can we get this over with? I have four days off and we have plans,” Drake responds. “I don’t have all day.”

Gianna takes a deep breath. “Okay. Come through to the back porch. It’s nice out there.”

She’s trying her best to smooth it over, and I feel a little sorry for her. Only a little, mind you. She’s the person in the middle of it, after all.

We follow her through the house to the porch. Drake’s grip on my hand tightens when I catch sight of a man sitting at the table, his back to us. His dark hair is peppered with gray, and his shirt stretches over his shoulders—broad, despite his illness.

“Malcolm,” Gianna says softly. “Drake’s here.”

I cover Drake’s hand with my other as his father shifts his chair back. When he turns, I’m stunned by the similarities between them.

Malcolm Nash’s eyes are as blue as his son’s, and the resemblance between their facial features is so strong. I bite the inside of my cheek as Drake squeezes my hand so tight that it stings a little. I ignore it though, because a sore hand is a small price to pay.

Malcolm’s eyes shine with tears, and he waves an awkward hand toward the table. “Will you sit?”

Oddly, it works better than a “Hi.”

Drake nods jerkily and pulls me toward the table.

He doesn’t let me go even as we sit down. It’s like our hands are glued together, and I realize now he’s using me the same way I’ve used him so many times before—for strength.

Right now, I’m his anchor.

“I’ll get some drinks.” Gianna turns around.

“Sit down, Mother,” Drake says firmly. “You’re not escaping this.”

Good effort though. I’ll give her that. I meet her sheepish gaze as she slides into the seat between Drake and Malcom. I’m glad my chair is right against Drake’s.

Rat Dog barks from inside and breaks the awkward silence. I’ve never been so thankful for that little shit.

“He’s in his cage,” Gianna tells me with a small smile. “I didn’t want him coming after your shoes again.”

“Yeah, I’m still not over that,” I admit. I liked those shoes the little shit chewed up. “I’m not sure we’re meant to be.”

Gianna laughs lightly.

“How are you?” Drake asks his father. His voice is hoarse but tight, and he’s trying so hard to hold it together.

“Some days are better than others. Chemo starts next week.” Malcolm rests his hands on the table. “They think I can fight it.”

“I’m glad. Good luck.” Drake looks away from him and at the side of the house.

Silence fills the air once again, and I squeeze Drake’s hand. He can do this. I know he can. I believe in him.

“That’s not what you really want to know, is it, son?”

Drake’s eyes snap back to the man in front of him as Gianna winces. “Until you’ve earned the right to be my father, I’m not your son.”

Ouch.

If that doesn’t get his pain across, nothing will.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Malcolm says even as pain and guilt flash in his eyes. “Why don’t you ask me what you really want to know.”

“Why did you leave?” Drake half spits the words. “Why didn’t you write, or call, or come back? What was so fuckin’ bad you couldn’t tell your son where the hell you were?”

Malcolm takes a deep breath and links his fingers in front of him on the table. “I made a stupid decision. I went away to Minnesota for a training course and met another woman. A month after coming home, she called me at work and told me she was pregnant.”

Gianna looks away, her jaw tightening.

Maybe she hasn’t forgiven him as much as I thought.

“I didn’t know how to tell your mom, so I pretended I was going on another course.”

“But you never came back.” Drake’s voice is tight.

“I never came back.”

“So I have a brother or sister somewhere?”

“No.” Malcolm’s shoulders heave. “She kept the baby for eight months before deciding she was putting it up for adoption because she couldn’t cope with the shame of having a married man’s baby. Although I’d fallen in love with her and filed for divorce. I demanded she get a DNA test, and when the results came back, the baby wasn’t mine.”

“So, why didn’t you come back? Why didn’t you just be honest with us?”

“I was ashamed. It’d been a year and a half and I didn’t know what would happen if I did. I had a job, a house, so I stayed in Minneapolis. I took the easy way out, and I’ve regretted it ever since.”

Drake’s jaw twitches.

Nope.

This isn’t a good enough reason for him.

He takes his hand from mine and rubs it down his face. I look at him out of the corner of my eye as a myriad of emotions crash in his eyes, from frustration to sadness to pure, uncontrollable anger. I hope like hell he’s gonna go with sadness, but I know him too well.

Drake pushes his chair back away from the table and stands. Maybe sadness is—
nope, never mind.
He turns in the doorway and comes back, standing behind his chair. He grips the back of it and pins his father with his gaze.

“Twenty years. I’ve waited more than twenty years for you to bring your sorry ass home and tell me why you abandoned us. Why you left Mom to bring me up alone. Why you left me without weekend sports trips and summer fishing trips and all the stuff we used to do. For twenty fucking years I’ve waited to be given a reason that would mean I could one day forgive you for leaving me when I needed a father. But this?” He flings his hand, straightens, then runs his fingers through his hair. “This is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard, and you know what I’m hearing? You’re weak. You were too weak to come back and face up to the consequences of your actions. You were my fucking
hero.
And, now, all I’m hearing in your excuse is that a kid from a one-night stand, who wasn’t even yours, was more important than the son who worshipped you and the woman who loved you. She,” he says, pointing to Gianna, “is more of a parent than you’ll ever be. Hell, Mom’s a better father too. But I tell you what—you nailed one aspect of it. You’ve taught me what never to do. Thanks a bunch,
Dad.
I’m done.”

He pushes off the chair with one hand so ferociously that it falls backward, and my heart jumps into my throat as he storms away.

“Drake.” Gianna moves to get up, but I’m quicker than she is, and I squeeze her shoulder.

Then something inside me makes me stop. A protective instinct hits me hard, and I turn to Malcolm. I meet blue eyes I know so well, and I perhaps feel a tiny bit of hate for the man who’s hurt Drake so badly.

“This might not be my place to say this, but if that’s the best excuse you have for abandoning them back then...” I shake my head. “Gianna might be able to forgive you, but he won’t. He’s a great man because of the woman whose heart you broke. If that’s all you’ve got, then I’m sorry, but you don’t deserve either of them. Especially not Drake.”

And, with that, I leave, giving Gianna’s shoulder one final squeeze.

“Where is he now?” Bek asks, her hands wrapped around the stem of her wine glass.

“Still at the range, I guess. Either that or he hijacked Dad’s not-so-legal one in the yard.” I put my empty glass down and fill it again, leaning over to put the last drizzle of the bottle in hers. “He needs to be alone right now. I’ll give him whatever he needs to deal with this.”

“I can’t believe that’s the reason he gave. How did you not punch him?”

“Honestly, I kinda wanted to, but I think my words had more of an effect.” I wince. I was kinda harsh. “Do you think I said too much?”

“No! Jesus, Noelle. Imagine if it were the other way around. Drake would have lost. His. Shit.”

“Twenty years for one night and a misunderstanding. He was gone for eighteen months. He could have come back after and all would have been right after a while.”

Bek tucks her hair behind her ear and grimaces. “I don’t think it’s the whole story. It makes you wonder if he did meet someone and that’s why he stayed for so long. Maybe it’s easier for him to say he was too scared to come back than admit he put a woman above his son.”

“Some people are just really shitty, aren’t they?” I huff and lean back on the sofa.

“Yep. And, now, because of it all, y’all’ve missed your flights to Miami.”

I wince internally. Lying to her about that doesn’t seem right, but we had already packed and put the cases the hall. I couldn’t move them. Just in case he came back in time.

“It doesn’t matter. His being happy is more important than our going away when we’re booking a vacation anyway. Besides, we can still go. Get a red-eye or something.”

“True.” She takes a big mouthful of wine. “Can you put me in your suitcase? I could do with escaping town for a few days. Or years.”

I laugh. “It’s not that bad. At least Brody is talking to you now.”

“Yeah. It was kinda easier when he wasn’t.” She shrugs a shoulder. “I guess I just have to hope that it’ll all work out. And take some of Nonna’s ice cream to make it easier to cope with.” She eyes me sneakily.

“Sure. Just don’t take the chocolate. I’m not sure Drake can take that too.”

“Really? That’s my favorite.”

“Bek.
I’m
not allowed the chocolate ice cream. You’re sure as shit not gonna be allowed it.”

“Fuckin’ right.” Drake walks through the door. “Nobody touches my ice cream.”

I smile. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good. I shot a bunch of shit in an illegal range and had a good talk with your dad.” He nods and shrugs. “Doesn’t take away the crappiness of it all, but imagining one of his rice dummies was that man certainly helped a lot.”

I look down so I don’t laugh. And that’s why we get along so well. We have the same coping methods.

Shoot something.

“Did he pin a picture of him to the rice man’s head?” Bek asks hopefully. “He did that for me once when I got cheated on in high school. He also put the guy’s picture between the target’s legs, and that was
super
therapeutic.”

Drake half laughs. “No. Just the shooting was enough. Nonna’s ice cream helped too. I think it’s also the only time Gio is ever gonna be allowed to use the C-word and your mom not put him in time out.”

Ha! Of course. Trust Gio.

“I’m glad you feel better.” And my heart is so full that the people who could do it are my family.

Maybe he was right when he said before that he has the father he needs.

“I’m gonna head home.” Bek puts her glass down.

“Are you good to drive?” Drake raises an eyebrow.

“I had one glass. She’s Winey McWinerson tonight.” She jerks her head toward me.

I nod to confirm. True story. I think I’ve had three-quarters of this bottle, and I don’t regret it at all.

I might tomorrow, but I’ll deal with that then.

I wave my glass at her and rest my head back on the sofa cushions as she leaves. Drake immediately locks the door and sets the alarm before joining me.

“How are you really feeling?” I ask him, meeting his eyes.

“Exactly like I just said.” He smiles, and I know he means it. “Shooting stuff helped. Your dad helped. Gio’s wide cuss-word vocabulary
really
helped.”

“I’m gonna start recording it.” I snort-laugh. “He could have his own dictionary, that bird.” I swing my legs around and grab my wine glass. “I need to do the dishwasher. I tried calling Mom, but eh.” I shrug, picking the empty bottle up too.

“Sorry we missed our flights,” he says, following me into the kitchen.

“It’s okay. It’s not like it’s a one-night-a-year thing, is it?” I put the bottle on the counter by the back door and carry my glass to where the dishwasher is. “We can go another night. Although, something about it feels odd. Like, don’t get me wrong. If we ever do it, I’m going to need to install a padded room I can go lock myself in because of Nonna, but I think we’d have a murder case on our hands if we didn’t do it right.”

“I think you’re right.” His voice is a little rough.

I turn. “Are you oka-ayyy...” My voice trails off when I see him.

He looks like he’s going to shit himself.

I feel like I’m going to throw up. “Wh-what is that?” My hand trembles as I point to the little, black thing in his hand. “Why are you looking at me like that? What are you doing?”

My stomach just puked on itself, I’m pretty sure.

Drake rubs his free hand over his mouth. “We weren’t ever going to Vegas.”

I stare into his blue eyes and whisper, “I’m really confused.”

“Nonna told me one week after we started dating that, if I ever, and I quote, ‘nailed Noella’s flighty ass-a’”—he tries not to laugh as my lips twitch—“that if we ever eloped, she was going to come after me and, as I roughly remember it, pick my pubic hairs off one by one with tweezers and feed me lasagna made with my balls made into ground beef.”

“I can see how that would put you off the idea of eloping. But I still don’t know what that is in your hand or what you’re doing.”

“You know what it is.”

I take a deep breath and nod. “Yes, but I’m not sure where the fuck you got it.”

“Your dad’s been looking after it.”

I blink rapidly.

“For a while.” Drake swallows, his throat bobbing, and he grips the box. “Noelle, you’re fucking crazy. Your family are absolutely certifiable, and I think I’m going to die by the time I’m fifty because of how many times you’ve risked your life, but for some reason, I wouldn’t change it. And I meant it all those months ago when I said I knew I would spend the rest of my life with you. I’ve meant it every single time when I’ve said it doesn’t matter if you’re not ready because I knew— I know—you’re it for me.”