Page 5 of Nick (The Moonstone Pack #4)

THE TIRES OF brONX’S SUV crunched over gravel and sand as they entered the outskirts of Sunburst, New Mexico.

Sarah sat tensely next to Nick in the back seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, while Ryker joked with Bronx in the front, attempting to lighten the mood. But even Ryker’s humor couldn’t penetrate the thick atmosphere that had settled over them like the desert dust.

Nick peered out through the window, his gaze skimming over the landscape of his old home. The streets were quieter than he remembered, more forlorn, a layer of grime covering everything like a blanket of neglect.

“Changed much?” Ryker’s voice cut through his thoughts, but Nick only grunted in response, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Buildings, once vibrant and full of life, now stood faded under the New Mexico sun. As they drove, the ghostly echoes of laughter and camaraderie that once filled the streets played tricks on his memory.

Nick noted each storefront, each alleyway, his mind automatically cataloging potential threats, an instinct honed from years of living on edge.

With every passing moment, Sarah’s betrayal threatened to choke him.

“Almost there,” Sarah murmured.

Nick glanced at her, taking in her features, clouded by regret and something fiercer. She met his gaze briefly before returning her attention to the road ahead, directing Bronx when to turn.

Again, Nick’s gaze swept over the scattering of buildings that dotted the sun-bleached landscape, each one more dilapidated than the last.

The desert had claimed much of what he remembered, its winds scouring paint and hope from the town’s bones. A pang of something like sorrow knitted his brow as he took in the shuttered windows and doors hanging off hinges.

“Has it always been this…broken?” he asked.

Sarah glanced out the window, her eyes tracing the same lines of decay Nick’s did. “No,” she admitted, her words soft with a melancholy undertone. “It’s gotten worse. Vincent’s grip on Sunburst, it’s like a vise—tightening and squeezing the life out of everything.”

Her fingers twisted in her lap, a small but telling sign of the anxiety she carried like a shawl around her shoulders. The very mention of Vincent seemed to cast a darker shadow across her already troubled expression.

“Vincent…” Nick tasted the name like a bitter pill.

The old anger simmered, threatening to bubble to the surface once more.

He clenched his jaw, forcing the emotion back down where it belonged—locked away.

His hands tightened on his knees, muscles tensing beneath the surface of his skin.

He turned his head, sparing Sarah the brunt of his glare, directing it instead at the empty streets that whispered of desolation.

“Everything he touches…” she continued, her voice trailing off, leaving the rest unsaid but understood.

“Let’s keep going,” Nick said, his tone clipped as he shifted his focus back to the road ahead.

“Take the next left,” Sarah instructed. Bronx obeyed without question, the vehicle’s suspension groaning in protest as they rolled onto an even more unforgiving road.

Nick’s gaze was drawn to Sarah’s reflection in the rearview mirror, the underlying steel in her posture, the quiet strength.

What was he doing here? They were heading toward a part of himself he’d tried to forget, guided by the woman who’d once been his compass.

The SUV stirred up clouds of dust that the wind swept away as quickly as they formed. Sarah’s directions led them to the outskirts where the houses were fewer and farther between, the landscape offering no respite from the scorching sun.

“That one there,” Sarah said. She pointed to a trailer house ahead, its white paint weathered by the sun.

Bronx eased the vehicle to a halt in front of the home, the engine’s idle rumble punctuating the heavy silence that had settled inside the SUV. Nick took a moment to absorb the sight before him: the neat curtains visible through the windows, the small porch promising welcome.

It was worn but cared for, standing defiantly against Vincent’s pervasive influence. It spoke of Sarah’s determination to carve out a sanctuary in a place that seemed to have surrendered to decay.

Nick’s hands clenched involuntarily at his sides.

“Home,” Sarah whispered, almost to herself, confirming what Nick had already guessed. His heart constricted at the word.

Sarah reached for the door handle, pausing as if bracing herself for what lay beyond it.

Nick watched her. He knew that stepping out of the SUV meant stepping into a past he wasn’t sure he was ready to face. But there was no turning back now—not when every fiber of his being urged him to follow her into whatever awaited them in that neat little trailer on the edge of town.

As Nick opened the door and stepped out, his gaze swept over the landscape that was all too familiar—yet foreign in its current state of neglect.

The New Mexico sun scorched the earth, and a desolate breeze whispered through the sparse vegetation, carrying with it the scent of dust and forgotten dreams.

His eyes narrowed as they landed on a colorful assortment of children’s outdoor toys, neatly piled into a large container by the front steps of Sarah’s trailer.

Plastic trucks, a frayed soccer ball, and a small tricycle.

A pang of something he couldn’t quite name tightened his chest, an echo of a life he might have known had fate not been so cruelly twisted.

“Sarah?” A voice cut through Nick’s thoughts, pulling his attention from the toys to the figure now standing in the doorway of the trailer.

Una Sanchez stepped out onto the porch, the sun casting her slender form into stark relief against the faded wood.

Her wavy brown hair framed her face, catching the light in a way that softened her expression of concern.

Una’s yellow brown eyes met his, filled with a kindness that seemed almost out of place in the harsh surroundings.

“Nick? Is that really you?” Una’s voice held the warmth of welcome, but there was a note of caution there too, as if she was unsure how he’d respond after all these years. Her hand clung to the doorframe.

“Una,” Nick said, his voice clipped as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. He hadn’t expected to see Sarah’s cousin, another link to a past he thought he’d left behind. “It’s been a long time.”

“Too long,” she said, stepping down from the porch. “We weren’t sure if we’d ever see you again, after…everything.”

Nick’s anger clawed at him, urging him to turn away, to reject the ties that bound him to this place and its painful history.

Yet, as he stood there, confronted by the unexpected presence of Una, who had been nothing but kind to him in the past, he couldn’t make himself leave.

This was Sarah’s family, her support system, and a part of him still wanted to shield them from any danger.

“Life’s full of surprises,” he managed to say, his tone carefully neutral. He scanned the area, always wary of potential threats.

“That it is.” Una’s smile was tinged with sadness as she gestured for them to come inside. “Come on in. All of you.”

Before they could move, the screen door behind Una banged open with a suddenness that had Nick tensing, his shoulders squaring as if bracing for impact.

A blur of movement streaked across the parched yard—a small boy, no more than a toddler, barreling toward Sarah. He launched himself into her arms, speaking in rapid-fire Spanish that bubbled over with the same effervescence as the laughter that spilled from his lips.

“? Mamá, mamá !” he exclaimed, words tumbling out in a rush as he wrapped tiny arms around Sarah’s neck.

Nick’s gaze softened just a fraction at the sight, the corners of his mouth threatening an involuntary smile despite the tight coil of tension in his chest. The child, with tousled hair that caught the sun in glints of gold and brown, was a stark contrast to the dust-laden streets and weathered facades of Sunburst.

“Is this Una’s kid?” he found himself asking.

Sarah looked up, her gaze locking onto his with an unreadable expression. She adjusted the boy on her hip. “No, I moved in with Una right before Javier was born.”

“Before Javier was born,” Nick echoed, the name unfamiliar, a puzzle piece that didn’t fit any picture he had constructed of his return to Sunburst. His mind raced ahead, calculating dates and possibilities.

Javier continued his chatter unabated, a stream of consciousness that only a child could muster, oblivious to the complexities of the world around him.

Nick watched the boy with a predator’s intensity, noting the way Sarah’s fingers curled protectively around the child.

His gaze lingered on Sarah as she gently disentangled herself from Javier’s energetic embrace.

Nick’s body coiled like a spring as she turned toward him with Javier’s hand clasped in hers.

“He’s your…son?” Nick’s voice cracked, the pieces clicking together in a jarring disarray of emotions.

Sarah nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Javier, sensing the tension, squeezed her hand, looking from one adult to the other.

Nick glanced behind himself at Ryker and Bronx, but they simply waited for the drama to unfold before them.

“ Cuántos anos tienes , Javier?” Nick’s question came out rougher than intended.

Sarah’s gaze never wavered from his, a silent acknowledgment passing between them.

“ Tres ,” Javier said, the word hanging in the air, waiting for Nick to recognize it.

Three years old.

The ground beneath Nick’s feet seemed to give way, and he steadied himself against the side of Bronx’s dusty SUV. His gaze snapped back to Sarah, the sharpness in his eyes seeking an explanation in her own.

“Three,” Nick repeated softly, the math of absence slicing through him.

He remembered the last night he’d spent with Sarah—the heat of their bodies entwined.

The implications thundered in his veins. Anger darkened his features, a scowl twisting his tanned face as he struggled with the revelation. Bitterness welled up through his throat, the flavor of betrayal as potent as the taste of the dust swirling in the breeze.

How could she have kept this from him?

His son—his flesh and blood—raised in Nick’s absence, without even the ghost of his presence to watch over him.

“Nick…” Sarah’s voice was a soft plea, but he wasn’t ready to hear it.

“Three years,” he muttered again.

He gazed into Javier’s expectant brown eyes, and a surge of protectiveness almost overwhelmed his fury.

This boy was part of him.

But his anger wouldn’t be dismissed so easily. It coiled tightly within him, a serpent ready to strike. He had been robbed of years he could never reclaim, moments with his son that had slipped away forever. And that, he couldn’t find it in himself to forgive.

Sarah reached out tentatively, but he sidestepped her touch, the distance between them more than just physical.

“Later,” he bit out, the word clipped, final. His jaw clenched, the cords in his neck standing out stark against his heated skin as he turned away from Sarah.

“I just…” Sarah’s voice cracked with emotion. He heard the tremble there, the undercurrent of the years she’d spent carrying a burden alone, but it only served to fuel his anger.

“Enough,” Nick snapped, the word sharp and cutting. “How could you keep him from me?” His tone was accusatory, barbed with the pain of betrayal. He felt eyes upon him—Ryker’s wary glance, Bronx’s uncomfortable shuffle—but they were nothing compared to the intensity of Sarah’s gaze.

“Let me explain—” Sarah reached for him again, her fingertips grazing the fabric of his shirt as if she was trying to bridge the chasm that had opened between them.

He stepped back, the motion brusque. “There’s nothing you can say.”

Nick’s words were a barricade, thrown up to shield himself from the pain of her treachery. A silent command hung in the air between them: do not cross.

“I did it for—” Her plea was cut short as he raised his hand, palm out, stopping her midsentence.

“Stop, Sarah. Just stop.” His voice was cold now, any warmth frozen over by the ice of his fury. Pain and protectiveness warred within him, each vying for dominance as he looked past her to the boy who shared his blood.

“Javier,” he said softly, addressing the child, who watched the scene with wide, confused eyes.

Nick mustered a smile for his son, a poor attempt to shield him from reality.

“Why don’t you show me those toys?” Nick gestured toward the colorful pile by the steps, hoping to divert the boy’s attention.

“Okay!” Javier’s innocent excitement was a balm to Nick’s roiling emotions, even as it underscored all he’d missed.

Sarah’s voice was a whisper behind him, a ghost of their past. “I never wanted—”

“Another time, Sarah,” he said without turning. He took Javier’s small hand in his.

Nick knew the reckoning would come, the time when he would have to face the entirety of Sarah’s choices and his own absence. But for now, he would focus on the little boy who looked up at him with eyes full of trust.

It was the only thing he could think to do to keep the remnants of his shattered world from crumbling completely.