Page 44 of I Could Be Yours (The Toronto Terror #6)

NATE

I watch Essie link arms with Rix and walk away. Of all the ways for Tristan and Rix to find out, this was at the bottom of the fucking list.

Isaac pats me on the shoulder. “Sorry, man. I should have realized the sneaking out at six in the morning was you trying to keep it a secret, not going for a morning jog.”

People are trying not to openly stare.

Brody seems too hungover to process much.

“Nate, we need to talk.” Tristan pushes his chair back from the table.

My dad also stands.

I hold up a hand. “Give us a few minutes before you join us.”

He nods and sits back down.

I follow Tristan away from the brunch. Which I’ve effectively ruined. Or Isaac ruined it for us. But either way, it’s my fault.

Tristan spins around, eyes on fire. “What the hell were you thinking?”

I shrug. I don’t know what to say.

“That’s it?” He makes the same gesture back at me. He’s livid. “You don’t fuck around and keep secrets, Nathan!”

“You did,” I grumble .

“And look how that almost turned out. I nearly lost Bea because of that. I did lose Bea because of it. And I almost blew up two decades of friendship because I couldn’t be honest with anyone about my feelings for her, myself included. Essie is an incredible fucking person.”

“I know.”

“She doesn’t deserve to be treated like your dirty little secret,” he snaps. “This isn’t a high-school victory lap where you got to bag the hottest girl in school, you asshole.”

“That’s not… I’m not?—”

“She’s my wife’s best friend. She will be at birthday parties and family fucking events.” Tristan clasps his hands behind his neck.

“You think I don’t know that? She’s the one who wanted it to only be about sex!”

His eyes narrow. “And was it? Just about sex? Were you just screwing the maid of honor behind everyone’s back?”

“I told her I’m falling for her, and she told me my feelings aren’t real and that it’s just the wedding magic or some shit.” I pace the gazebo.

He crosses his arms. “Is she right?”

“I don’t know.” I rub my chest. Should it really hurt this much if she is right?

Tristan grabs me by the shoulders. “Are you in love with Essie?”

“I don’t fucking know, man. I thought I was, but then she said I couldn’t be, that it was other people’s happiness affecting my feelings.

That I couldn’t be serious about her. Essie knows what love looks like.

She would know, wouldn’t she? Maybe I’m too fucked up to love anyone.

I thought I had it all figured out with Lisa, and look at how that turned out.

Everyone just keeps leaving.” I’m on the verge of a complete breakdown.

Tristan’s expression softens, and he pulls me in for a tight hug. “Ah, man. Come on, bro.” He steps back, hands still on my shoulders. “You fucked up, but you’re not too fucked up to love.”

“She’s such a good person, Tris. I felt like it could be something good. I wanted it to be more, and I thought she’d want the same. I should have stuck with the plan and waited until we were back home, but I didn’t, and now it’s all a mess.”

He pulls back, his expression serious. “Honestly, Nate, you shouldn’t get into a relationship without getting help.”

“I just need to sort my head out.”

He squeezes my shoulder. “That’s true, but brother to brother, please see someone. You need to talk this stuff out.”

I nod. He’s right, but everything already hurts. How much worse will it be when I’m digging around in all that old pain?

“You boys okay?” Dad asks.

“Yeah, just working through things,” I tell him.

Dad and I exchange a meaningful look. I shake my head.

“What’s going on?” Tristan motions between us. “What’s that about?”

“I can tell him,” I say.

“I think you have enough going on, son. This one should be mine.”

Tristan’s eyes go wide, head whipping back and forth. “What the fuck is going on?”

Dad positions himself between us and settles one hand on each of our shoulders. I wish it made me feel grounded, but it doesn’t.

“Your mom was here.”

“What? When? Brody didn’t see her, did he?”

“No,” I assure him. “It was just me, Essie, and Connor.” At least the focus isn’t on me and my fuck up anymore. Not that this hurts any less.

“How can we be sure she’s gone? What if she’s still here? Where’s Brody right now?”

“He went back to his room to sleep off his hangover,” Dad says .

“And Connor helped take care of the situation.” I swallow the pain. It’s too fresh. I’m too raw. Everything hurts.

Dad takes over, explaining what happened.

Tristan’s expression shifts from disbelief, to rage, to the deepest, most telling empathy. “Nate, man?—”

“It was better me than you or Brody. I’m fine,” I grind out.

“You’re not fucking fine.” He curves his hand around the back of my neck, and I see it, his despair, like he’s reliving what it was like when she left us.

“I couldn’t have her ruin your wedding. I couldn’t let that happen.” I can feel his pain as deeply as my own.

Tristan’s face clouds with anguish. “I’m sorry, man. I’m so sorry.”

“She’s never going to fuck with us again,” I assure him, and maybe myself. “She can’t get to Brody anymore.”

“I wish I could have saved both of you from all of this,” Dad says brokenly.

“We can’t tell Brody.” Tristan turns his pleading gaze on Dad. “He can’t know she took money to stay out of our lives. We can’t make that his.”

“It stays between us,” Dad agrees.

“Rix knows she was here,” I tell Tristan.

“What? When did she find out?”

“Essie told her before the wedding. She was planning to tell you eventually, but she didn’t want it to taint the day.” It’s astounding how much pain one person can cause.

“I didn’t have the slightest clue.”

“That’s how she wanted it.” Everyone has been carrying the weight of this secret to protect each other.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s Rix, based on the chime. “Bea’s looking for us.”

“You two head back.” I thumb over my shoulder. “I need a little breather.”

“You sure you’re okay, son?”

I nod. “Yes. I’ll be fine. ”

“I’ll check on you in a bit,” Dad says.

They both hug me before they head back up to find Rix.

All of this feels impossibly heavy, and the exhaustion is overwhelming.

We’re still keeping secrets, protecting Brody from more pain.

But I realize, as I head back to my room—alone, again—that if I don’t want history to keep repeating itself, I have to fix the problem. I have to fix myself.