Between You and Me by Jennifer Gracen (28)

Wonder what secrets still lurk
in the Harrisons’ closet?
Keep reading for a sneak peek at more from
Jennifer Gracen.

 

 

Coming soon from
Zebra Books!

Nick Martell pulled up in front of his parents’ house. The engine on his sleek black Ford Mustang GT quieted as he cut the ignition, leaving him in silence to gather his thoughts. He had so much to tell his family, he didn’t know where to start. A gentle breeze blew, making the long leaves of the palm trees overhead sway against the soft blue of the evening sky. He let his head fall back against the seat and drew a few long, deep breaths as he looked at the house.

It was the same as always. His mom had planted new flowers in the bigger pot by the front door, a bright hot pink. Nick grinned; it was her favorite color, and reminded him of her. He’d grown up in a modest three-bedroom home on a quiet street in a decent suburb, only five miles from the center of Miami. His father had been on the Miami police force for twenty-five years before retiring, devoted to the job and to his family. Nick had worshipped his dad as a kid, and aspired to be like him as a young adult, which was ultimately why he’d become a cop himself five years before. Five years of hard work . . . and now, some payoff. He figured his dad would be proud of him tonight, and the elation of that made Nick’s grin widen.

Lew Martell met Maria Sanchez when Nick was three years old. Lew married Maria when Nick was four, and legally adopted Nick as his own when he was five. Though they didn’t share blood, as far as Nick was concerned, Lew was his father in every way, and knew to the core of his soul that Lew felt the same way. Even a few years later, when Maria and Lew brought Nick two little sisters, he’d never been made to feel anything other than they were one hundred percent a family.

Yes, there was a blank space on Nick’s birth certificate where the biological father’s name should have been. Nick didn’t care. When he was eleven, and a middle school project about genealogy raised questions, Maria had sat her son down and explained the truth: She had gotten pregnant via a one-night stand when she was twenty. Drunk at a party, she’d made a foolish choice—but she was adamant that Nick knew she never thought of it as a mistake. That she took responsibility for her choice, that Nick had been a gift from God to her, and most of all, that she never regretted her decision to keep her baby.

Maria told her young son that she never even knew the man’s last name, which is why she hadn’t put one on the birth certificate. All she could tell Nick was he was white, probably some basic Anglo-Saxon mix, and he’d never known she was pregnant. Ashamed of her situation, she hadn’t tried to contact him. Maria had left her job and home in New York to live with relatives in Miami until Nick was born. When she met and fell in love with Lew, it had been another gift from God to her, and they built a family together, made a good life for their three kids.

Young Nick had been surprised, but didn’t give the news much thought. It did explain why even though Nick was proud to be Puerto Rican, there was something there that always felt . . . off. He’d heard some of his aunts whispering once when he was six years old, something about his white father, and he’d assumed it was about Lew . . . maybe not. Maybe his gut instincts had been strong even then. Also, his nose was too narrow, his hair was a little straighter, different from his mom and his relatives; and though he got as deep a tan as most of his relatives in the summer months, his skin just wasn’t quite the same rich dark gold as his mother’s.

So even at the young age of eleven, Nick was glad to know the truth about his conception because it helped some things make sense, things he felt that before he just couldn’t make sense of or verbalize. And knowing the truth . . . He’d pushed it into the recesses of his mind and went on with his life. It didn’t alter who he was. He had a dad who loved him. That’s all that mattered.

Now, as he walked up the front steps and unlocked the door to his parents’ house, it was his father he couldn’t wait to see the most. He knew his mom would be proud, but his dad would be bursting with it.

“Hello?” Nick called out as he stepped into the living room. The spicy aroma of his mother’s cooking wafted in the air, enticing and comforting him at the same time.

“Ah!” His mother came in, rushing to hug him. She leaned back to look up into his face and held his cheeks. “You look good, mijo! You need a shave, but your eyes are smiling.”

“I’m twenty-nine, Ma,” he grumbled, teasing back. “You ever gonna stop telling me when I need to clean up?”

“No.”

“I don’t shave on my days off. I take a break. I’ve told you this.”

She shrugged and made a disdainful face that clearly expressed her thoughts.

He just chuckled. Her dry sass was one of the things he loved most about her.

“So what’s the big news?” she asked, her features brightening again. “I can’t wait to hear whatever you’re here to tell us. And I’m glad you asked for a family dinner to share it, so I get to see you.”

Nick rolled his eyes. He faithfully came for a family dinner every other Sunday. “Like you don’t see me. I come by!”

“Not enough.”

He groaned and nudged her gently with his elbow. “Admit it, you’re just happy to have an excuse to cook something special.”

“You said you had really big news, so yeah . . . I might’ve made one of your very favorites.”

Nick inhaled deeply, trying to figure out what she’d made by what he smelled. A slow smile spread on his face. “Ahhh. You made carne frita con cebolla for me, didn’t you?”

“You got it.” Maria smiled and it lit up her pretty face. “Anyway, it’d been a while since I made it, so why not?”

He was six feet tall, and she was a petite five-foot-two, so he bent to kiss her cheek. “You’re too good to me.”

“Don’t you forget it.” She was clearly pleased that she’d pleased him. “So c’mon in. Your dad’s out in the yard and your sisters are in their rooms. I’ll get them out.”

“Actually . . .” Nick rubbed the back of his neck. “You know what? Maybe it’d be good to just talk to you and Dad first. Part of the news is great, but part is . . . a little . . . well, they might not fully understand. So maybe you’ll help me figure out a way to tell them that won’t . . . upset them. I dunno.”

Maria stilled at that, scrutinizing her son for a few seconds before saying, “I’ll get your father.”

Five minutes later, Maria and Lew sat together on the couch as Nick pulled over the armchair to sit directly opposite them. He took a deep breath, then ran his hands through his thick hair and over his scruffy jaw before starting.

“The best news first,” he said, unable to keep from smiling. “I got the promotion. I’m going to be an investigator.”

Lew let out a loud whoop and jumped to his feet. Maria’s eyes shone with tears of pride. Nick laughed as his father pulled him up for a tight hug. Lew clapped him on the back, grasped him by the shoulders, then pulled back to look into Nick’s eyes as he said, “Goddamn, I’m so proud of you, son. I mean, I wanted this for you, but I know you wanted this for you. You worked hard, showed your mettle. You’ve been a damn good officer, but you’re just too smart not to . . . Well, this is the right thing for you.” He clapped his son’s arms again, beaming with pride. “Good for you, Nick. Well done. Congratulations!”

“Thanks, Dad.” Nick’s throat felt thick, and he swallowed down the lump that had risen there. He’d known his dad would be proud, but this felt incredible.

“Mijo . . .” Maria stood and lifted her hands to cradle his face. “I’m so, so proud.”

“Thanks, Ma.” Nick knew she was happy, but also a little scared for him. That she knew being an investigator still meant dangerous work. That being the wife of a cop, and now the mother of a cop, meant she didn’t sleep well every night. But he knew she was proud of him, and would continue to be. When her arms wrapped around his waist and squeezed tight, he hugged her back until she was the one to let go.

“When do you start?” Lew asked.

Nick took another deep breath as he released his mother. “Well . . . that’s the other thing. Sit down. There’s more. But it’s totally different, not about work.”

All three of them sat, and as soon as they did, Nick launched into it. “A few years ago, I wanna say three years ago? They had a bone-marrow donor drive at the station. Because Jim Connelly’s nephew needed a donor.”

Lew nodded. “Sure, I’ve heard of those. I’ve done one. It’s easy as pie, just a swab in your cheek.”

“Right,” Nick said. “So I did it, and truthfully, I never thought about it again. But I guess they keep your name on the national and international bone marrow registry after that, because, well . . . I got a call two weeks ago. It seems I’m a match for a kid who needs a bone marrow transplant. He’s got non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Twelve years old.”

Maria’s eyes flew wide as Lew’s brows furrowed.

“Really,” Lew said.

“That’s amazing,” Maria murmured.

“Yeah. So . . .” Nick blew out a breath. “How do I nutshell this . . . First the registry contacted me to tell me the news. I agreed to being tested further, went in, gave blood and all that. Earlier this week, they called to tell me that yes, I’m a strong, viable match. I agreed to go through with it right then.” He saw the worry creeping into his mother’s face as he talked. “Ma, I went in, talked for a while with a rep from the registry. I learned a lot. It’s barely going to hurt, it’s outpatient surgery. So please stop looking so worried, okay?”

“You’re my son,” she said. “And you’re talking about a major medical procedure. I’m going to worry no matter what you say.”

“That’s your right,” he said, tossing her a wink to try to lighten her up. “So here’s where it gets a little unusual. Apparently, most donors and patients never meet or have contact, confidentiality rights and all. But the day after I confirmed I’d do it, the registry rep called me again. Said the father of the kid really wanted to talk to me, if I’d allow it. I figured sure, why not? I mean, I was going to do it no matter what. As soon as I heard I could help someone, there was no question in my mind I’d go through with it.”

“Of course,” Maria said. “That’s who you are.”

“So did you talk to the father?” Lew asked.

“Yeah. On Friday morning.” Nick shifted in his seat, stretching out his legs to roll one ankle, then the other. “The guy couldn’t be nicer, and I could hear the worry there and it really moved me. His son’s just a kid. They’re desperate, I get that. And long story short, I’m going.”

“Where are you going?” Lew and Maria said at the same time, then looked at each other with a quick laugh at having said the same thing.

“New York. Turns out the kid’s father is some mega-rich businessman—I’m talking billionaire, like crazy money. He wanted to talk to me to . . . well, offer incentive, I guess. He wanted me to understand that insurance should pay for everything that’s medical, but beyond that, he wants to pay. He doesn’t want me to spend a dime. He offered to pay for my flights, my hotel stay, rental car, everything I eat, do, touch. Even offered to cover whatever pay I lose at work for taking time off. Bottom line is, he didn’t want me to be worried about the expenses if it would make me decide not to go there and do it. I assured him that I’m going to do it. And yeah, maybe take him up on the hotel part. Because if I have to go back and forth to New York a few times, or stay there? Might add up, I don’t know.”

“Nick . . .” Maria’s voice sounded breathless all of a sudden. “You’re going to New York?”

“Yeah, Ma. I leave the day after tomorrow.” Nick watched her as he spoke; she seemed off. He hated for her to worry about him. “On Friday, when I got the promotion, it was amazing, but terrible timing. I’d just talked to the father that morning! So, at work, I explained what happened, and that I feel I need to do this. They were great about it. Better than I thought they’d be, actually.” He ran his hands absently over his knees. “I’m taking an unpaid leave for two weeks. If I have to go a few more times, they’re fine with it. And the time I need off for the surgery and recovery will be paid leave. They were fully supportive. After it’s all done, and I’m back to one hundred percent, I’ll start the new job.”

“New York,” Maria repeated. “Billionaires, you said?”

“Uh-huh. Why?” Nick stared harder now. She looked upset. No, it was different than that. She looked . . . spooked. “Ma, you used to live in New York, you know I’m not going to, like, a war zone or the middle of nowhere.”

“Are they from Long Island?” she asked.

Lew flinched, his head swiveling to look at his wife as his eyes flew wide.

Nick’s gut started humming and clenched, like right before something bad went down on the street. “What’s going on?” he asked, looking from one to the other. “You’re both acting weird.”

“The boy,” she said. “The billionaire father. What’s his name, do you know?”

“Yeah, of course I know. I told you, I talked to him,” Nick said. “The kid’s name is Myles, his father’s name is Charles.” Trying to joke to break the sudden heavy vibe in the room, he added in a mock snooty voice, “Get this for big money pretentious: His full name is Charles Roger Harrison the third, thank you very much.”

Maria gasped sharply, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she fainted, slumping against her husband.