Page 100 of Bitter When He Begs

He rolls his eyes, huffing. “You heard me.”

I raise a brow. “Did I? Because it almost sounded like an apology.”

Nate groans and tips his head back. “I hate you.”

“I know,” I say with a smirk.

He glares at me for half a second before sighing and shaking his head. “Look… I don’t trust him, alright? Istilldon’t trust him. But that doesn’t mean I had the right to take it out on you.”

I study him, watching the way his fingers tighten around the bottle, the tension still lingering in his shoulders. “…What’s really going on with you?” I ask carefully.

He stiffens and then, just as quickly, he shakes his head again. “Nothing.”

I narrow my eyes. “Bullshit.”

He bites his bottom lip, looking away. “It’s… it’s just some shit I have to deal with. The whole temper management thing.” His jaw clenches, muscles twitching beneath the skin. “Seriously, Sage. It’s nothing you need to get dragged into. I’m handling it.”

I pause. Then I set my laptop aside and turn toward him, folding my arms. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

He looks up now, brows drawn. “What?”

I tilt my head. “You got pissed at me for keeping things from you. Went off about how I didn’t trust you, how I shut you out about Luca. But now you’re doing the same damn thing.”

“That’s different—”

“Is it?” I shoot back, my chest tight with frustration. “You said it yourself, Nate. You’ve been dealing with something. You blew up at me—and I get that, I do—but you’re still keeping your own shit close to your chest. I’m supposed to be okay with that?”

He stares at me for a long second, jaw tense, like he wants to argue. Like he’s already forming the excuse in his head. But then something in his posture softens. Not much, but enough that I see the shift. He sighs again and rubs his hand over his face.

“It’s Liam,” he says finally.

The name makes me blanch, and I sit up straighter. “Callahan?”

Nate doesn’t answer right away. His eyes flick away from mine, toward the far side of the room where someone’s left a broken camera tripod propped against the wall. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than here right now.

I feel the heat build behind my ribs instantly, that sharp, instinctive anger I always get when someone I care about gets messed with. “Liam fucking Callahan is the reason you’re like this?”

Nate leans back in his chair, tilts his head toward the ceiling like the answer’s written in the goddamn air. “Yeah.”

I clench my hands in my sleeves, trying not to let it explode out of me. Because I’ve seen it. I’ve seen the shadows under his eyes these last few weeks, the shorter fuse, and I didn’t know why until now.

“You gonna tell me what he did?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “He didn’t do anything.”

I scoff. “Didn’t do anything?” I gesture vaguely toward him. “You’ve been acting like a shell of yourself for weeks, Nate. You look like you haven’t slept in days, you’re avoiding class, you’re… fuck, you’re drowning. And you’re telling me Liam didn’t do anything?”

“Not in the way you think,” he says tightly, his jaw clenched like he’s fighting not to spit something out.

I stare at him. My pulse is already pounding in my ears, and there’s a part of me that wants to shake the words out of him, drag whatever’s choking him out into the light, and demand it make sense.

Because I’ve watched Nate Carter bloom from his fucked-up childhood. I’ve watched him walk into fights with a smile. I’ve watched him take hit after hit on the field and grin like it made him feel alive. He doesn’t fold. He doesn’t shut down. He doesn’t flinch like this. Not unless something’s really, truly fucked.

I drag in a breath, press the heels of my hands into my thighs, and force myself to stay still. “Then tell me,” I say, quieter now but firmer. “Please.”

He doesn’t look at me. Not right away. He just keeps staring at the far wall, at that busted tripod like it holds the answer, like it’s safer than my face. His mouth moves like he’s chewing on the words before he says them. Then, finally, after what feels like forever, he speaks.

And what he tells me next has me pissed off in ways I can’t explain.