Page 44 of Fierce Love (Tucker Billionaires)

Chapter Thirty-Six

Hollyn

W hen Posey drops me off at the house after we’re done shooting for the day, Nate greets me outside the circular driveway, and immediately, all my insides tense up. He’s more the type to be in the house watching sports or on his computer rather than outside when I arrive.

“Is everything okay?” I ask as I shut the door to Posey’s car, and give a quick wave to her as she drives away.

The security that’s constantly tailing me sits at the end of the long driveway, and I clock the other security person who often patrols the exterior of the house coming around the corner at a leisurely pace.

Nothing unusual about any of that, and I relax a tiny bit. Nate’s expression doesn’t look worried either. But there’s definitely something off.

“Yeah, fine,” he says with a slight head nod. “I just wanted to talk to you in private before you went in the house.”

“Did something happen to the house?”

He bites his lip and stares at me for a beat, and I can tell he’s measuring his words again.

“You can just say it,” I say.

“Kinsley fell in love with one of the puppies, and I adopted it. It’s in the house.”

“ You adopted it?”

“I did.”

“Without consulting me?”

“Since I adopted it, and we’re not technically a ‘ we ,’ I didn’t think I had to.”

There’s a hint of challenge in his voice, which I wasn’t expecting, but he’s also correct.

We’re not a “we.” Sometimes I forget we can’t be more than we already are when we’re all in this house together.

A brief prick of sadness threatens to penetrate and spread.

If he wants to adopt a dog—even if it’s a thinly veiled gift to my sister—I can’t really say much.

“Congratulations on your new puppy. I hope the two of you are very happy together,” I say before trying to step around him.

“Hols,” he says, grabbing my arm. “I’m keeping him, so there’s no pressure on you to take him with you or stay here with him. It’s a neutral thing.”

“Neutral? You think adopting this dog is neutral? Have you met Kinsley? She already loves the dog. What do you think another few weeks or months is going to do? She’ll be attached, and I’ll be the horrible, terrible, worst sister ever—again.

Which is how I was hoping to have my time in Bellerive end when I have to leave—right back where I started.

” Two hearts breaking for different reasons.

“You don’t have to,” he says, quietly.

I stare up at him, and I wish so badly that were true—that I didn’t have to be the bad guy in any scenario, that I didn’t have to leave the island, that consequences for actions didn’t reverberate years after a decision was made. If only I could live in that world.

“Let me go, Nate,” I say, keeping my voice equally quiet. I don’t want to fight with him, not when the clock ticks between us, making our time together limited and finite. I’ve got a second chance, and even if it doesn’t look the way I want, I won’t spoil our time with bitterness and anger.

He releases me, and I step around him into the house. He doesn’t follow.

As soon as I enter, I call out for Kinsley, but instead of my sister, a little black dog with a white splotch on his chest and the biggest feet comes plodding toward me, his tongue lolling out of one side of his mouth.

I deliberately stayed away from the puppies the last few weeks because I was afraid I’d fall in love too.

A dog isn’t practical with our life in New York, but I can’t deny this little guy’s cuteness.

I drop my purse on the floor, and I fall to my knees to embrace his rambunctious puppy wiggles and licks. Kinsley stands in the light, deeper into the house, and I can tell she’s hesitant, probably because Nate didn’t come back inside.

“Are you mad?” she calls out.

“He’s Nate’s dog,” I say, keeping my tone airy. “How could I be mad?”

“I got to name him and pick out all his stuff.”

I survey her from a distance as the puppy gives me enthusiastic slurps on the face. “I want to be happy for you, Kin, but I need to be sure you understand that we can’t keep him.”

“I know,” she says. “I already told Nate that.” She comes closer, and I can clearly see her face now.

“You’ve been crying.”

“I lost it when Nate showed up at school with Henry.”

“That’s what you’ve called him?” I scoop him up under his front legs and hold him aloft, scanning his face. Strangely, it suits him.

“It means a lot to me,” Kin says, and I can hear the emotion in her voice, “that Nate adopted him. It might be…” She takes a shuddering breath. “It might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

My heart aches at how hard she’s trying to keep her tears at bay, and the creak of the door behind me signals Nate’s return to the scene of his crime, but I don’t even try to stir up anger.

Like always, Nate’s been able to see what lies in someone’s heart to deliver their deepest desires right to their feet. His thoughtfulness, his generosity, is unmatched. Given that I remember what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that, how can I begrudge her this?

The sadness will come—it has to. But for now, we can both bathe in the happiness we’ve started to carve out in this house. Maybe I can’t keep Nate or this dog or this life, but it’s mine for now.

“Anybody hungry?” Nate asks from behind me. “I can order in.”

“Sure,” I say, half turning toward him so he can see that even that brief desire to murder him for his impulsive kindness is gone.

His lips tilt into an almost smile, as though he can read my thoughts.

“Kin?” he asks.

“I didn’t know I was getting a puppy today, and I made plans with Indy. Can I take Henry with me?”

“As long as Indy’s family is okay with it and you take something to keep him penned up in case he’s running a bit wild.”

“He has a crate.” Kinsley glances from me to Nate and back again. “And since it’s Friday, maybe I can sleep over at Indy’s place?”

“ With the puppy?” I ask.

“If her parents say it’s okay?” she asks.

I look at Nate, as though seeking a second opinion, and he shrugs. “You can ask.”

Twenty minutes later, Indy’s parents, Indy, and her sister are all in the driveway, making a big fuss over Henry with his sparkly purple collar and leash.

Since Kinsley is spending the night, I explain about the security detail and, not for the first or likely last time, apologize for the fact that my parents are horrible people.

Just before the car pulls away, Kinsley sticks her head out the window. “Nate!”

He turns and gives a wave.

“Can you send me the video you took?” she asks, holding up her phone.

“Sure,” he says with an easy grin, and the car heads off down the lane.

“Video?” I ask.

“Maren asked me to take a video of Kinsley realizing she was getting Henry—” He hesitates for a beat and gives me the side-eye. “I mean, that I was getting Henry.”

“Of course,” I say, unable to resist winding my arms around his middle now that we’re alone except for our own security detail. “Can I see it?”

“You’ll cry too,” he says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders as we head into the house.

“I’m not a crier,” I say with confidence. As a kid, when I cried, my mom hit me harder. Tears mean pain, and not just the emotional sort. I outgrew the instinct my mother honed in me a little with my aunt, but I never got over it completely.

“I was a fucking mess watching her. Best thing I’ve ever done,” he says, leading me to the couch and tugging me down beside him. “I thought I’d never top the Mia Malone concert, but I did.”

He clicks into his messages and attaches the file for Kinsley before sending it. Then he hands me his phone before getting up and going to the kitchen.

I click on the play button, and at first, I think I’ll be totally fine watching it.

Her confusion over the dog being at the house is cute.

But as the video progresses and Kinsley realizes what Nate’s done, it’s not her crying that makes tears spring to my eyes—it’s how hard she’s trying not to sob with joy.

How often have I seen someone cry tears of joy?

And for the person to be someone I love as much as Kinsley makes my heart feel too big for my chest.

Her excitement and happiness are clearly overwhelming her, and she’s fighting to hold it together.

She keeps asking Nate if he’s sure, and every time he says yes, her control seems to crack a little more.

Until she’s on the ground, the dog clutched to her chest, crying so hard she can barely breathe.

A box of tissues appears in front of my face as the video ends, and I realize I am, in fact, crying. Tears are streaming down my face.

“Oh my god,” I breathe out. “She really loves that dog.”

“And honestly, that dog really loves her. You didn’t see it, but he follows her everywhere. He’s on her lap the minute she stops moving. He picked her as much as she picked him.”

“How are you this good?” I ask, dabbing at my eyes. Now that I’m older, it makes even less sense that someone like Nate could share genetics with Jonathan and Celia. They’re people who take, take, take, and Nate’s someone who gives, gives, gives.

There’s never been much I could give him in return. Once I’ve got my tears under control, I tug at the waistband of his jeans, drawing him closer. Then I’m undoing the button, drawing the zipper down while I stare up at him.

“I thought you’d be mad,” he murmurs.

“I was,” I say, releasing him from his boxer briefs.

“I thought you might kick me out.” His hands sink into my hair as I hover over his hard length.

“Of your own house?” I grip him, moving my hand up and down.

“Yeah,” he says with a strained chuckle, his gaze locked on the movement of my hand.

“Considered it,” I say even though I didn’t. Then I lick a line up his shaft. “Decided I’d rather fuck out my frustrations.”

“That’s an A-plus in conflict resolution.” He groans as I take him into my mouth, rotating my tongue around his head. “Fuck, Hols. That feels… so good.”

“Might be a bit of gratitude mixed in with my frustration,” I say before I suck him in deep again.

“Gratitude?” His voice is hoarse.

“I’ve never seen my sister so happy.” I swirl my tongue around and around.

“It was… it was my pleasure.”

“It’s about to be,” I say, meeting his gaze before taking him deep again.

Then I let myself get lost in the pleasure I’m giving him, in the sounds he’s making, in the way he’s barely maintaining control.

Sex was one of the only times in our relationship where I felt like I had the upper hand when we were younger, where he was content to let me lead, set the pace.

The imbalance I often felt between us out in the world—whether it was about money or social status or even just our upbringing—became nonexistent in the bedroom, or wherever we chose to be together.

It’s the same heady sensation now, to know I have the power to make him lose control, to beg for more, to plead for release.

So much time has passed, and yet so much hasn’t changed between us. All these years, I talked myself into believing that we’d have grown apart, that the intensity would have faded, that there was no way two people who were raised so differently could have worked out.

And I know why I had to tell myself those things, why I had to convince myself that the path I took was the only one that could have possibly led to anything good—but not one of those things has felt true since we moved into this house together.

Nate and I get along just as well, understand each other just as completely, want each other just as much as we always did.

The snake oil I drank at the time made other people’s lives better, but it didn’t make mine better, and I’m coming to terms with the fact that it didn’t make Nate’s life better either.

While I might have wondered whether my leaving would actually be a blessing for Nate—if he’d get over me and find some suitable socialite—part of me knew there was a chance I was damning us both.

That’s a hard reality to face, and I’m not sure I’m ready to take the full load.

“Hols,” he says, his voice thick, and I know he’s close.

His hands are deep in my hair, but I don’t let up.

I need this. I need him. “Hols, I’m gonna…

” I appreciate the warning, and then he lets out the groan of satisfaction that I love the hear.

I swallow, and I try to force the stickiness of my conscience down with it.