Page 6 of New Year (Reconstruction #3)

CHAPTER FOUR

Nat stuffed the rest of the apple fritter into his mouth the moment Zack and Chase left the apartment, and then he reached for an éclair. The carbs were exactly what he needed, especially if he managed to fail…whatever today was going to be. An audition for a job? He had no idea. But he wanted food in his stomach in case things went badly.

He washed his sticky fingers, then found a bottle of cleaner under the sink and wiped down the entire countertop. The coffeepot was still on and had coffee in it, so he didn’t want to mess with that. He double-checked the pastry box was closed tight, and then he had nothing to do but wait for Zack to return.

He hadn’t expected to meet Zack’s landlord this morning, especially not while still in his pajamas, and he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Chase Sampson. Chase was about Zack’s age, maybe older, with a lot more gray in his otherwise brown hair. Tall, slender, but hunched over the cane, he carried himself like a man thirty years older. Zack had mentioned he was here helping a sick friend, but he’d never said exactly what was wrong with Chase.

Nat hadn’t asked. Asking questions left himself open to the same thing. Besides, he’d be alone with Chase later, when Nat drove him to his appointment. What sort of appointment wasn’t his business, not really.

He studied one of the paintings on Zack’s wall. A department store copy of some beach scene. Just sand, grass, and waves in the distance. Peaceful but nondescript. Sort of like the rest of the apartment, as if Zack had moved in with nothing personal and didn’t plan to stay long. Nat understood that mentality; he’d lived with it for years, paring down his own belongings to two suitcases he’d taken from place to place, as he’d needed to move these last five years or so.

Did Austin still have those suitcases, or had he tossed them in the dump like he’d promised on more than one occasion? Nat’s entire life was nothing but trash. He was no better than sleeping behind a dumpster.

Except…maybe he was? Zack sure seemed to think so. So did Chase, who’d offered Nat a temp job as his driver today. Judging by Chase’s physical condition, he might need a driver again in the future. It was definitely the ideal job, working for a person on his own timetable, rather than working the streets. Selling himself to strangers.

At least those strangers would be Nat’s choice, unlike all the men he’d had sex with because of Austin. When it was comply or else.

He still wasn’t sure what to make of Zack’s continued offers to help Nat. So far, he hadn’t made a pass or even overtly flirted with him. Chase’s flirting had been much more obvious but also…harmless? Teasing like a friend might, with no real intent behind it. Nat craved that sort of interaction, that sort of no-strings affection where a hug was just a hug, and a kind gesture wouldn’t end with Nat’s bare ass in the air.

Nat didn’t trust Zack not to betray him, but so far, Zack had been true to his word, so Nat would give him the benefit of the doubt. For now.

Zack took a while to return, but when he did, he had a pile of clothes in his hands. “These are some of Chase’s,” he said as he placed the pile on the unmade sofa bed. “You’re closer to his size than mine, and they aren’t things he wears anymore. Mostly loungewear like sweatpants and t-shirts, and I think a pair of jeans, but they’ll need a belt. He said you’re welcome to whatever you want.”

“Wow, thank you.” Nat eyed the generous amount of clothes. “I can pay him something. Or trade for today’s driving job.”

“Don’t worry about it. These were already in a paper bag for donation, he just hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Chase has been whittling down his possessions for a few months.”

“Chase is sick?”

Zack released a long, sorrowful sigh and slipped both hands into his pockets. “I wouldn’t call it sick, but he is symptomatic, and it is degenerative. For right now, that’s all I’ll say about his private business.”

“I understand. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay to be curious. Thank you for also being respectful.”

“Of course. You’re being beyond generous with me right now, considering we’ve never even fucked.” Heat flooded Nat’s face, and he looked at his feet. “Sorry, that was my mouth running away from me.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Zack crossed the room to stand toe-to-toe with Nat, then tilted Nat’s face up with a finger beneath his chin. Nat hesitated before meeting his eyes, those blue depths glimmering with something unnamable but kind. “I take no offense to your suspicions. I know you’re used to kindness coming with a price.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re probably used to not having choices, also? To having others tell you what’s going to happen?”

Nat’s stomach got wormy. “Yeah.”

“Then you tell me, Nat. Where would you like to go shopping this morning?”

An odd kind of relief flooded his insides, and Nat smiled. “Dollar store. I’ve got some money, and I want it to stretch.”

“Okay. Dollar store it is.”

* * *

Shopping at a discount dollar store with Zack was more fun than Nat expected it to be. From the wide-eyed way he stared around as they walked inside, he got the sense Zack hadn’t been in one in a long time. They were hit right away by big displays of summer and July 4 th themed items, everything from watermelon slice-shaped water bottles to flag-shaped serving platters.

Nat had directed Zack to the biggest store in town, which was only two blocks from Reynolds College. Not a coincidence, he was sure, as it kept college students stocked up on cheap snacks and energy drinks, and even cheaper party décor. Some stuff was an incredible value and obvious name-brand knock-offs, while other stuff was the cheapest, flimsiest version available.

Nat just wanted cheap.

He grabbed a cart and headed past the seasonal stuff for toiletries and hygiene, Zack trailing behind. When Nat stopped in front of the toothpaste and toothbrushes, he realized he’d lost Zack somewhere along the way, so he left the cart and wandered back to the main aisle. Zack stood in front of an end cap full of beach-themed home décor. Cheap press-board wall signs with cheesy sayings, glass spheres wrapped in sisal rope, strung beads with wood seashells on each end, small ceramic lighthouses, and a dozen other things.

“Something catch your eye?” Nat asked.

“The whole display, I suppose.” Zack picked up a plastic plate shaped like a sailboat. “I never considered coming to a store like this for decorations. Does that make me an elitist snob?”

“Not really. I know plenty of poor people who still hate shopping at dollar stores. They think it’s just cheap shit from China that breaks in two weeks, and while yeah, they do sell that shit, they also have a lot of gems. Close-outs and decent in-house brand items. You should watch some YouTube hauls sometime.”

Zack’s raised eyebrow and frown suggested he’d rather stick his hand in a fire than do such a thing, and it made Nat laugh. “Wander around and gawk,” Nat said. “I know where to find what I need.”

“No, I’ll follow you, as long as we can look a bit more once you’ve filled your list.”

Nat didn’t argue that he didn’t really have a list, just experience, and returned to the toothpaste. It didn’t take long to find the things he’d lost when his last backpack was stolen: deodorant, disposable razors, toothpaste and brushes, floss, aspirin, hand sanitizer, travel-sized tissues, things that fit well in small spaces. He surprised himself by unearthing a can of aerosol dry shampoo, which was handier than the liquid stuff.

Back-to-school was still too far away for any decent knapsack options, so he grabbed a cheap, nylon drawstring sack. A few other things tempted him, but he didn’t want to buy anything that would scream, “I expect to be back on the streets tomorrow!” to Zack, like a roll of toilet paper.

Once Nat announced he was good, Zack took over pushing their cart, and Nat found himself in an aisle he usually ignored: dishes and glassware. Even when Nat had his own place, he tended to use paper plates and disposable utensils for convenience. He had no idea what a dinner plate cost in a regular store, but Zack seemed enamored with a collection that looked like someone had dropped royal blue paint in the center of the dish and created a splatter pattern out toward the edges.

After going through each stack to check for scrapes, Zack bought four dinner plates, four smaller plates, and four soup bowls. When Nat asked about the matching mugs, he replied, “Nah, I’ve got my favorite coffee mugs at home.”

Zack asked his opinion on which glass tumblers he liked best. “Don’t you have this stuff?” Nat asked.

“Sure, but it’s plain stuff Chase bought as a set when he remodeled the suite. I use it because it’s there, but this stuff has color. It has personality. I never really thought to bring color into the place before.” His gentle smile turned Nat’s heart over in a strange, new way. An affectionate way that allowed Nat to hope some of that color had to do with bringing Nat into the home, too.

They spent close to an hour wandering the aisles, playing with some of the items in the toy section, admiring the odd knickknacks on décor shelves, and even comparing some of the cleaning products to the organic stuff Zack was used to buying at steep prices. The cart was full by the time they reached the check-out, but Nat made sure none of his stuff sneaked over into Zack’s pile.

Once they had their purchases stowed in Zack’s trunk, Zack checked his phone. “We’ve got about an hour before you need to be back home. Are you hungry for an early lunch? Or would you rather swing by the nearest wireless store and get a basic cell phone?”

Nat nearly dropped the bottled soda he’d kept out for himself to drink. “Um, I can’t afford a phone yet.” Especially not after what he’d just spent.

“I know, but we can add the difference to your tab. Or apply it to whatever Chase thinks is fair to pay you for your services today.”

“Ugh, don’t call it that.”

“Call it what?”

“Services. It sounds like I’m going to give him a massage and a happy ending.” Nat climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut a little too hard.

Zack hesitated before getting in, too. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I’m implying.”

“I know, but it sounds like…can we say acting as his assistant, or something? Or just being his driver?”

“Assistant is good, yes. And again, I apologize for implying anything beyond what you’ve agreed to do. I also understand if you don’t want to get the phone yet. It’s your choice. I was merely making a suggestion.”

“Thank you.” Nat studied Zack’s warm, sweet smile, and his resolve nearly buckled. He’d love to let this kind, handsome man buy his phone on credit, just so Nat had that lifeline again. That little bit of freedom. But he couldn’t put himself under another man’s thumb, not for any reason. Not even for a hundred bucks of call time and data charges. “An early lunch is fine.”

“All right.”

They took takeout back to Zack’s place and ate together at the counter. Nat’s stomach was over-filled by the time he finished his cheeseburger and fries, but he’d never waste a morsel. He’d rather be uncomfortably full for a few hours than suffer that angry, gnawing hunger for days at a time.

It didn’t take Nat long to organize his items in the vanity drawer Zack had emptied for him. He didn’t need all the space, and his items looked a bit lonely in there, but they might not stay long. And he needed them in one spot he could access quickly, if the need to flee arose.

When he returned to the living area, Zack had finished neatly stacking his new dishes and glasses in the dishwasher, and he was staring around the living room with a pair of small blue, battery-operated lanterns in his hands. They seemed a little low-end to Nat, but he was also judging Zack based on where he worked and his nice clothes. The same way he’d judged Zack on the car he drove—simple, affordable, and probably reliable.

So far, Zack had proved himself to be pretty damned reliable, too.

Zack ended up putting one lantern on the end of the counter, and the other on the slender table beneath the television. Nat wasn’t sure about the arrangement, but what did he know about interior design? Nothing. Watching a grown man fuss over the placement of such small items was…kind of adorable.

A quacking duck startled Nat. He spun in a circle, confused.

Zack picked his cell phone off the counter. “Alarm. I need to leave for the restaurant. You can go over to Chase’s, if you like. Do you know the tune to A Shave and a Haircut ?”

“Um?”

Zack demonstrated the beat, and it clicked inside Nat’s head. He recalled a scene in a movie he’d loved as a child. An animated rabbit in the real world. Something to do with a saloon and a will. It was all Nat remembered, other than a scene where a creepy guy in a black hat tapped that song against a wall with his walking stick.

“Okay, yes, I know it,” Nat replied.

“Knock that on the door and then go inside. It’s our signal so I don’t scare him when I open the door. I’ll also shoot him a text. It’s only ten minutes sooner than you planned.”

“Okay.”

It wasn’t until Zack was inside his car, engine running, and Nat was standing outside Chase’s door that Nat understood that had been Zack’s gentle way of reminding Nat he wasn’t allowed to stay in the apartment by himself. He appreciated Zack not calling attention to their arrangement.

Nat knocked as hard as he could to the tune of the oldie. It took two more deep breaths before he could open the door. This was a relative stranger’s house, and he didn’t want Chase to think he was sneaking inside. But that’s why Zack gave him the “password,” wasn’t it?

“Mr. Sampson?” Nat called as he closed the door. He was inside a neat mud room with coat hooks, plus a washer and dryer, and some other storage. That led into a tidy kitchen with a feature he didn’t expect: a floor-to-ceiling bookcase filled with cookbooks.

“That you, Nathaniel?” Chase’s voice filtered from the left, down a long hallway.

“Yes, Zack told me to come over. He had to get to work.”

“Fine, fine. Have a seat wherever you like, I’ll be there in a moment. Had to change my shirt.”

Nat investigated the den attached to the kitchen. Wood paneling, an unlit fireplace, more bookcases, cozy furniture. Actual magazines in a basket on the floor. A leather recliner with a small table beside it that held remotes, tissues, and a variety of other small things that indicated this was Chase’s favorite spot.

The focal point of the room wasn’t the huge flat screen television on a wooden stand. It was the adjacent wall covered with framed photographs. Some were the large eight-by-tens, others were collage frames with lots of little ones. Nat spotted Chase in several. No modern pictures of Zack. Dozens of faces, men and women, young and old. Someone in the restaurant business had to have met hundreds, if not thousands, of people over the course of his career.

His gaze landed on the corner photo of a collage. Two familiar faces smiled back at him from the group of five. Peggy and Bud Maher, the owners of Tim’s. Years ago, their only son had been killed in a gay bashing, and they’d opened an LGBTQIA+ friendly bar in his honor. It shouldn’t have surprised him that Chase knew the Mahers, but it did.

A thump-shuffle sound carried into the den from the hallway, and Nat stepped away from the gallery wall. Chase appeared in a blue shirt, his mouth set in a grim line, leaning heavily on his cane. “So, Zack taught you the secret knock, did he?” Chase asked as he eased into the recliner.

“I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I also saw his text, so you didn’t sneak up on me.”

“I’m glad. I want to help you, not give you a heart attack.”

Chase sighed. “A heart attack might be a gentler way to go.”

“I didn’t mean to, um.” Nat scrambled to keep this together so he didn’t lose a job he hadn’t even done yet. “Zack didn’t tell me what’s going on. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“You didn’t offend me. I’m grumpy because I spilled raspberry jam on my shirt while making a sandwich.”

Everyone dropped food on themselves once in a while. “Will it stain? Do you need me to rub a stain stick on it or something?”

“Already done. It’s not the stain, it’s how long it takes me to change my damned shirt.” Chase waved his hand at the wall. “My life in pictures. My life since I’ve been here in Reynolds, at any rate. It’s been a good life.”

“You know the Mahers?”

“Not well, but we met several times over the last few years, usually at chamber of commerce meetings. I was stunned when I heard about the explosion at Tim’s. I couldn’t imagine my entire business going up in flames like that.”

Nat shivered, unable to hide the physical reaction. “It was terrifying.”

“I’d heard two employees and a guest were injured. You have my sincerest…I’m not sure. Condolences feels absurd, given the situation.”

“I get what you mean. There really isn’t a proper greeting card yet for ‘sorry to hear you got blown up’.”

Chase chuckled. “No, there isn’t. I was glad to hear that they’re rebuilding, though. I wasn’t able to attend the fundraiser back in April, but I sent a donation. This business is difficult enough without random acts of God, so to speak, burning down our efforts.”

Nat swallowed hard, stomach rolling. Sometimes he wasn’t so sure the boiler at Tim’s had exploded by accident. Not from the hints Austin had dropped in the weeks following. During Nat’s difficult recovery, such as it was. Sometimes his left arm still ached from the old break. He always suffered guilt from his inability to attend the fundraiser he’d helped organize and execute. His excuse of having a migraine that day had fooled most.

He wasn’t sure it had fooled everyone, because for a while after, Angelo had kept trying to contact him. Nat had appreciated the caring texts. Austin? Not so much. “From what I heard, the fundraiser was a huge success,” Nat said. “I wasn’t able to attend, either.”

“Will you be returning to work when they reopen?”

Going back to Tim’s hadn’t even occurred to Nat, because re-entering his old life was not an option. He couldn’t go anywhere Austin could find him. “I doubt it. I loved the job and the people, but I need to go forward, not backward.”

“Completely understandable, especially at your age. Not that I know your age, but you’re definitely younger than I am, and therefore, you have miles of potential ahead of you.”

“Just don’t have the means to travel those roads right now.”

“You have the heart of a poet, Nathaniel. Or you’re just humoring me and my silly metaphors. I suppose I’ll figure you out, if you’re working for me works out.”

“So, what is today? An audition?”

“Basically, yes. Or if you prefer, a three-hour interview process.”

Nat’s face heated. “You don’t need to create a pity job for me, Mr. Sampson. I’m happy to drive you around today, but?—”

“Stop with the Mr. Sampson bit and just call me Chase, please. I’m not your professor, or even technically your boss. Yet. And I haven’t invented anything for you. You might save me the trouble of going over a stack of boring applications, full of colorful work experience such as assisted client with toileting needs. ”

“What?” Nat had lost track of the conversation somehow. “What about toilets?”

Chase waved a hand in the air, and then waved it at the couch. Nat perched on the edge, curious and nervous about where this was going. “Have you ever heard of Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis? ALS?”

“Is that Lou Gehrig’s Disease?”

“That’s the more common name for it, yes. It’s what I have, why I use a cane, and why I voluntarily gave up driving. It’s also why I asked Zack to move into the in-law suite, so someone is around. Someone I trust completely to help and not take advantage.”

Chase spoke like a man explaining all the ingredients in a complicated dish, rather than telling Nat he had an incurable, degenerative illness—probably one of the most personal things you could tell someone you’d known for an hour. Then his comment about applications spun back around. Toileting needs. “You need someone to help you out around the house, because you can’t do all the things you used to be able to do on your own.”

“Bingo. Zack was bugging me earlier today about looking at applicants for daytime help. He knows how much I abhor the idea of allowing a stranger into my home, but I also understand his point of view. He worries, and it’s my fault he worries.”

“Having ALS isn’t your fault. It’s not like you could have done anything to prevent it.”

“No, but I could have handled this by myself, instead of dragging Zack into it. Without oversharing, we were very close once, and then we lost contact for a long time. We hadn’t spoken in at least a decade when I decided to make him part of my problems, and he came to help. He always does.”

Nat didn’t need stick figure drawings to understand what Chase was telling him. Chase and Zack had once been intimate, had gone their separate ways, but there was obviously still love there for Zack to move into the (technically) same house. “So you’re going to hire daytime help because you feel guilty for basically making Zack responsible for your care until…um.”

“Until I die? Exactly. Calling him was selfish.”

“Considering the future you’re facing, Mr. S—Chase, I think you’re entitled to be a little selfish. It’s okay to put yourself first sometimes.” Something Nat was still learning to apply to his own life. But he’d done it by leaving Austin and disappearing.

“I’ve put myself first for my entire adult life. How else do you think I’ve made it to forty-five and am still single? Never married. Never even engaged. I’m pretty sure my time with Zack was the longest relationship I’ve ever had.”

“Being single doesn’t make you selfish. It makes you smart.” Nat could have kicked himself for saying that out loud.

Chase watched him with an unwavering gaze that seemed to see right inside Nat’s soul, to identify his worst secrets. Nat sat still, trying his best not to squirm under the direct scrutiny, ready to jump out of his own skin and—an old-fashioned bell clanged. Chase dug into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “Alarm. Time to head to my appointment.”

“Right, yeah.” The serious discussion was over for now.

The swap from slippers to laced loafers took a bit of negotiating, but Chase did allow Nat to assist him in the task with a minimum of grumbling. Nat took a moment to properly adjust the seat and mirrors of Chase’s car. The absolute last thing he wanted was to get into an accident while driving someone else’s car

Their conversation stopped once they were on the road. Chase cranked up an 80s playlist while also providing clear directions for Nat to the other side of town. Almost better than his GPS could have done, which suggested Chase had made this drive a lot. Their route ended in the parking lot of a professional center, all various offices and slightly confusing entrances. Chase directed him to the right entrance and told him to park. Nat found a space.

“Do you need help getting to the office?” Nat asked.

“No, I can manage the walk and all that jazz. You don’t have to sit here for the full time, just be back by two o’clock.”

Afternoon doctor appointments were notorious for running late. “How do you know you’ll be done by two?”

Chase winked. “Because therapy appointments are fifty minutes, and Dr. Crain is very good at time management. See you in an hour, Nathaniel.”

“Yeah.”

Nat watched Chase get out of the car and begin his slow shuffle up the sidewalk, toward the entrance. He didn’t stop watching until the building swallowed Chase up, and then he began tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel. Nat had roughly an hour to kill and hadn’t even considered what to do. Driving around was not an option. He didn’t have a cell phone, and this was not his car.

Sitting there and listening to the radio was an option, albeit, not an attractive one. Instead, he turned off the car, took the key, and began to walk the property. The professional center was square in the middle of a residential area, with lots of trees, and even a few benches placed at intervals along the sidewalk. He picked a random bench and sat, thankful for the shade in the blazing June heat, and kind of wishing he had a cold drink to sip.

But he’d been in worse situations than slightly thirsty on a shaded bench, surrounded by people going about their business. And to anyone who looked, he was another of those people. His clothes were laundered, he was freshly showered, and he didn’t have to pose himself as someone open for business. He could just…relax.

Nat closed his eyes and let his mind drift. Pretended he was in the middle of the woods someplace peaceful, away from the noise and grime of the city. Not that Reynolds was a dirty place to live, but even a vibrant, fun college town had its dark sides. But he wasn’t in the city today. He was resting near Sparrow Creek, one of his favorite places in the mountains, watching squirrels leap from branch to branch, chasing each other and their desire to hoard acorns for the winter.

For the first time in weeks, he felt safe, and like maybe things would be okay. He liked Zack. A lot. His white knight in shining brown loafers. And he was fond of Chase, who’d been incredibly vulnerable earlier. He’d trusted Nat to bring him to his therapy appointment. Nat could not imagine how traumatic it was to be diagnosed with something like ALS, and he was insanely jealous of Chase for not only having a shrink he could afford, but also having a friend like Zack to support him.

Nat needed some therapy for his own issues, but he couldn’t afford that right now. Maybe one day, when his financial shit was together, and his housing shit was together, he could think about his mental health. Not today. Probably not this year. It took all the mental energy he had not to drown his fears and nightmares in booze or drugs.

“Natty Dog?” a familiar female voice said.

He blinked several times as his head swiveled around, seeking out the voice. Sasha Layton stood a few feet down the cement path. She’d been a bartender at Tim’s for years, was a six-foot-four former college basketball player with as much ink as bare skin, and could bounce someone out of the bar better than the bouncer at the door.

He’d adored her.

They also hadn’t seen each other since their last in-person fundraiser meeting in April.

“Hey, Sasha.” He stood out of habit and braced for her big, warm hug, enjoying the positive physical contact for the few seconds she offered it.

She pulled back and very blatantly stared at his face. “You get into a fight, honey? Where have you been? You haven’t answered a single one of my texts or calls.”

“I’m sorry, my phone broke, and I couldn’t afford a new one.” The truth popped out, because he was too startled seeing her here to construct a good lie. His fingers brushed the mark on his cheek. “It was a scuffle. I’m fine. How are you?”

“Doing okay. I’m working at that shitty fast-casual chain over on Landmark Avenue, but it’s steady work and pays the bills. I can’t wait for Tim’s to reopen. You’re coming back to work, too, right? Or have you moved on?”

Nat latched onto his present position to spin a kind-of-truth. “I’ve moved on. I actually just started working for a businessman as his personal assistant. He’s at an appointment right now. I’m waiting.” Duh, he was waiting. “Um, I drove him.”

“That sounds really interesting. I bet it beats waiting tables.”

“It’s definitely a change. I’m sorry I lost touch.”

“Hey, shit happens.” She checked her smart watch. “Listen, I have to get to an appointment. Do you have anything to write with? I can give you my number for when you get a new phone.”

“I don’t have anything.”

“Damn. Listen, if you can, stop by my work tonight and I’ll slip you my number. Don’t be a stranger, okay? I mean, we got blown up together, we should stay in touch.” Her eyes flickered with something Nat saw in his own sometimes—the flash of terror when you remembered how close you’d come to dying. More than any other two people in the world, Sasha and Angelo understood that flash, and he hadn’t spoken to either of them in months.

“I’ll try to stop by,” Nat replied. “It was great seeing you, I mean it.”

“Me too. Take it easy, honey.” She waved as she strode toward the nearest building entrance.

The restaurant on Landmark was across town from Zack’s house, so he’d have to figure out the bus lines to get there. A ride share would probably cost more than what little money Nat had left in his pocket after today’s spending spree. Then again, Chase had insisted on paying Nat something for his three hours today.

But did Nat want to maintain his friendship with Sasha? What if Austin was crazy enough to be watching Nat’s former co-workers? He was pretty sure she didn’t know Austin. They’d never gone to Tim’s together, or spent time with Sasha socially. No, as much as he liked and missed her, she was safer if Nat kept his distance.

His only priorities right now were staying safe, earning money, and getting the hell out of Reynolds. Far, far away from Austin.