Chapter Sixteen
“Thanks for the ride.” Nate shifted uncomfortably on the velvety seat of Kate’s ancient Toyota Corolla. The upholstery was scratchy enough to irritate his skin right through the fabric of his suit pants.
And that made him feel and sound like a complete wuss. But he was man enough to admit it—he’d grown accustomed to the perks that wealth afforded him.
“No prob.” Kate adjusted her rear view mirror, pulling out a lipstick and retouching the shimmering purple color on her lips at the same time as she signalled her turn into the parking lot of the motel.
Nate winced at her split concentration driving.
“You sure you’re good from here?” she asked, shifting to park so he could exit the car.
“Yeah.” After the scene with Chase and Ellie, Nate had needed to get the hell out of there… out of the room, out of the lodge, out of the entire damn wedding. He was certain his former best friend no longer wanted him there, anyway.
Kate had offered to give him a ride.
“Actually, no. I’m not good.”
She looked at him quizzically; hell, he wondered himself if he was crazy. But suddenly the thought of going into that damn motel room, where the scent of Ellie’s strawberry shampoo would be hanging heavily in the air, was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Can you take me to McKay’s?” Before this weekend, Nate had never operated on instinct. He was the first to admit that he liked to plan, that he liked control.
Then he’d walked into that motel room, and back into Ellie’s life. The little blonde had pried loose his iron-clad restraint, leaving him open to impulses that he normally would have ignored.
Like the impulse that was riding him right now—the one that nagged at him to go confront his mother.
“Sure thing, cowboy.” Tossing her lipstick into the unused ashtray, Kate swerved back onto the road and continued until the neon lights of McKay’s were visible in the blueberry twilight. She skidded to a stop in front of the main doors, and Nate dug his fingers into the seat at the recklessness of her driving.
“Thanks for the lift.” Eager to get out of the cramped car, he undid his seatbelt and slid out. Kate smirked before peeling backward in a cloud of dust and gravel and reeled out of the small lot, which was mostly empty.
Mostly empty… but Nate recognized one vehicle there, the ancient Impala that his mom had driven, even back when he’d been a teenager. He was shocked that it was still running, then shrugged the concern away. Not his problem.
Straightening his spine, he made his way through the front doors of the bar, reminding himself that he was in control here. He wanted some answers, but he could leave at any time. He was here by choice.
None of this stopped him from feeling just the slightest bit like a little boy again when he stepped into the bar and immediately locked eyes with his mother.
Hannah Archer’s mouth formed a small “o” of surprise at the sight of her son.
He nodded once in reply, affirming that he was there to see her, before seating himself at a table in a back corner. It had a perfect view of the door of the ladies washroom, and remembering what he and Ellie had done in there made a shard of glass twist in his gut.
He pushed that thought away. She’d made her choice. And more than just man to woman, as dominant to submissive lover, he had to honor it.
As his mother crossed the bar toward him, he tried to shake away thoughts of Ellie and the friends he’d left behind at the wedding. But he couldn’t—Ellie, Chase, Gavin and Lucas, even his mother, his stepfather—all had a hand in making him the man he was today.
Before he could fully accept that after years of denial, he needed some answers.
“Nathan.” Hannah had taken off her apron and left it behind the bar—he figured she was taking a break.
When she handed him a glass with two inches of amber liquid over ice, he took it warily, cocking his head.
“Jack on ice. That’s your drink, right?” She twitched, fingers working themselves nervously against the thighs of her jeans, as she seemed to have some internal debate before finally seating herself across the small square table.
“It’s one of them,” Nate finally acknowledged before taking a cautious sip. He shouldn’t have cared that this woman knew that one small detail about him, but for some reason, he really did.
They sat in silence for a long moment, the heaviness of it broken only by the clink of glass behind the bar. Nate shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
He wasn’t used to so many of the sensations he’d been feeling this weekend. He was used to be in command, which meant that finding himself at a loss for words was doubly frustrating.
“You said you left Tom.” Finally, he let a thought spill out of his mouth.
Hannah drew in a shaky breath.
Nate noticed that her hand kept sliding down to pat at the right front pocket of her jeans—the place she’d always kept her pack of cigarettes. He wondered if she’d quit.
He wondered why he cared.
She drummed her fingers on the tabletop, then surprised Nate by gesturing to his glass. “May I?”
“Sure.” Nate slid the glass of whiskey across the table to Hannah, who lifted it, inhaled the heady fumes, then took a big gulp.
“Better.” She huffed out a breath, staring down at the table before finally looking Nate in the eye. As he’d always been, he was startled by how similar his own eyes were to hers—like looking in a mirror.
“Yes, I left Tom.” She took another, smaller sip of the whiskey before sliding the glass back across the table to Nate. “I suppose you want to know why.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” Nate snorted out a sarcastic laugh. When Hannah regarded him quizzically, he shook his head. “The question is more… why now?”
“Ah.” Hannah bit her lip, then twined her fingers on the table in front of her. “Why now, and not back then, you mean?”
“Bingo.” Rage surged anew as he watched the woman who was supposed to be his mother ponder the question. Jesus, didn’t she understand, even now, what it would have meant to him as a kid if she’d chosen her son over her husband, just once?
“I know that I can’t ever make it right.” Swallowing thickly, Hannah blinked in the dim light. “And I certainly don’t expect you to understand.”
“Try me.”
“Sometimes in life you’re lucky enough to meet someone special. The one, I guess you could say.”
“Don’t, do not tell me you thought Tom was the one.” Nate slammed a fist down on the table, making the ice cubes in his drink rattle. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“I wasn’t done.” Hannah arched an eyebrow. “For me, that man was your father. On paper, we seemed completely wrong for one another. Nothing fit. And yet somehow everything did.”
Ellie’s face flashed through Nate’s mind. He shoved it away as his heart started to ache.
“When he died, I was—well, I was sick. Mentally. I’m sure you remember.” He did, oh he did. His loving mother had turned into a weeping zombie, unable to do more than cry or rock herself in a corner. “Then I met Tom. And for a while, he was the reason that I could be myself again.”
Nate felt a sliver of pity for the woman his mother had once been—but only a sliver. She’d been his mother, damn it, and her job had been to protect him.
“I won’t go into the psychology of abuse with you. I suspect you’re long past the point of caring, anyway.” Hannah smiled wryly, but there wasn’t any merriment in the expression. “Just know that somehow, some way, my entire being, my sense of worth, became wrapped up in Tom. I couldn’t function without him, not even to give you what you needed. He was certainly not the one for me, and I know it wasn’t healthy. But that’s the way it was. And I’m glad that you finally know.”
Nate had been sitting stiffly throughout Hannah’s entire explanation, and now, as she regarded him warily, he found himself sinking back in his chair. Curiously, cautiously, he poked at the feelings rioting around inside of him.
He wasn’t ready to forgive her. He’d had one too many of Tom’s fists in his face for that to ever happen. But now that he’d experienced what he had with Ellie, now that he knew firsthand the gut wrenching pain of losing her…
He had a bit more insight into how someone’s world could fall apart in the blink of an eye.
Hannah looked at him hopefully as he shoved his chair back from the table. A momentary flicker of something inside of his chest had him reaching for her hand, but he snatched it away before he made contact.
“Thank you for telling me.” Solemnly, he stood. What did this moment call for? A hug? A handshake? He couldn’t bring himself to do either.
Hannah opened her mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it, only to change her mind again.
“I wish you well, Nathan.” There was a sad finality in her voice.
Nate thought he’d steeled himself against any feelings for her years ago, but her words were a thorn prickling at the delicate skin of his side. “I… I wish you well, too.” He nodded before finally turning away.
He didn’t know if he’d ever see her again, but he’d gotten what he’d come for, and that was enough.
Hannah called his name before he’d gotten two steps away, and he turned back, looking over his shoulder, his defences instantly rising. What now? Was she going to ask for money? Tell him this had all been a joke?
“Is it true that you’re dating Eleanor Marshall?”
Nate almost laughed. Dating wasn’t exactly the right word, since she was embarrassed to let anyone know that they were together.
But then again, it was none of Hannah’s business, so he settled for a non-committal shrug. “Why?”
“I always liked her.” Hannah smiled, and Nate felt all of the hurt that Ellie had dumped on him in the last few hours sucker punch him in the gut again. Yeah, he’d always liked her too. Too bad she didn’t feel the same way.
“And if Eleanor Marshall is the one for you, then I can’t have screwed you up too badly.”