Page 21 of Not a Friend (Crescent Light #1)

Four Years Ago, September

I didn’t know it could be like this. It’s easy as breathing, and yet I hold my breath.

I stared out the window on the drive back to Hartwood, savoring the city a few minutes longer.

“Thanks for coming with me today,” Nate said with a gentle squeeze on my knee. “It would’ve been a long, boring-ass day otherwise. Plus, I would have definitely bought the wrong wine.”

I covered his hand with mine. It looked comically small in comparison. “Anytime. Besides, I can never say no to a road trip.”

“Totally agree. I love a good road trip. They give me so much nostalgia.”

“Yeah? Did you do a lot of traveling when you were younger?”

He nodded, fishing out a piece of candy from the bag he bought at a gas station and popping it into his mouth.

Sour gummies. My favorite. “When I was a kid, my dad used to take me on these mini-vacations all the time. Long weekends. He’d pick me up from school on a Thursday, and we’d take off.

Just me and him. We did all kinds of stuff.

Camping, hiking, baseball games, you name it.

One summer, he drove us from Massachusetts to Yellowstone and back.

I remember hitting the road at the crack of dawn and listening to music the whole drive. He’s the reason I became a musician.”

“Really?” Nate didn’t talk about his family much.

Neither of us did. Other than the fact that he had a sister, I’d learned more about his life in the last four hours than I had in the nine months we’d known each other.

But today had shown me a different side of Nate, a softer side.

Like he was peeling off a layer and showing part of himself he hardly ever shared.

“Yeah. He’d teach me about classic rock—quiz me on it to pass the time.

” Nate formed a serious face, deepening his voice to mimic his father’s.

“‘Nathaniel, is this Black Sabbath or Ozzy Osbourne? Which AC/DC singer is this? Did I ever tell you the history behind 'Rooster' by Alice In Chains?’” A small smile played on his lips, but I couldn’t make out its meaning.

He returned to his normal voice. “So much of my appreciation for music comes from my dad.”

“You must be close.”

He scoffed dryly. “Not exactly.”

When I didn’t say anything, Nate looked warily at me and shifted in his seat.

“He, uh,” he cleared his throat. “He wasn’t very good to my mom.

Not abusive or anything like that. He just could not stay faithful to save his life.

” He ran a hand through his dark waves and cupped the back of his neck.

“He used to do some shady shit to sneak around behind my mom’s back.

Small things at first, but they got worse over time.

Like all those father-son trips we used to take?

It wasn’t uncommon for him to sneak away when he thought I was asleep.

I always just assumed he was going out for a smoke or down to the hotel bar to have a drink or whatever.

At the time, I didn’t know any better. But as I got older, I figured out he was using our trips as a cover so he could cheat. ”

I turned to face him, studying his profile as he continued.

“It got to the point where we weren’t going to national parks or baseball games anymore.

We were driving hours and hours away just to stay in shitty motels so he could sneak out and do whatever he wanted to.

But he always made sure to do something fun with me on the last night—go to the movies, order pizza, whatever—and promise that the next trip was going to be more fun.

They never were.” Nate paused a beat, rolling his tongue over his lip.

“One time, he left me pent up, alone, in a motel room with some snacks and cable TV for two days. And when he got back, he asked me to lie to my mom and tell her we had a great time. I knew the whole thing was just… bullshit.”

The image of a young Nate sitting alone in a motel room in the middle of the night made me want to pull him to me—to hold him and never let go. I blinked away the stinging in my eyes. “You said earlier your parents weren’t together anymore?”

“No. My dad was god awful at hiding the evidence of his cheating, and my mom’s a smart woman.

When I was thirteen, she asked me point blank about what we did on our trips.

I could tell she knew something was up, so I told her the truth about the motels and him leaving overnight.

It was all she needed. She called him on his bullshit, kicked him out, and divorced him.

I know now that he had a history of cheating—even before I was born.

It was only a matter of time before she was fed up.

But back then, my thirteen-year-old brain thought it was all my fault they separated.

“And the funny part is, he didn’t even put up a fight.

When she kicked him out, he just packed a bag and walked out the front door.

It was like the part of him that cared about his family slowly faded until there was nothing left.

For the first few years after they split, we still saw him on Christmas and birthdays and stuff, but he was nothing like he was before.

He just… stopped caring. About everything.

Like, fully stopped giving a shit. He started missing baseball games, would forget to pick us up when it was his weekend to have us, stuff like that.

He eventually forgot our birthdays, too. ”

Nate raked a hand through his hair again, deep in his memories.

“I’ll never forget when Paige turned ten, my mom threw her a big sleepover party.

All of her friends were there. My mom decorated the house; it was a whole thing.

I’d just gotten my driver’s permit, so I wasn’t home a lot at the time.

Too busy being a teenager, enjoying freedom.

But Paige begged me to stay home for her party.

There was nothing more she wanted than to have all her friends and all her family in one place.

I can still see her standing at the front door—poofy pink dress, pigtails, party hat, and all—waiting for him.

All her friends were running around, dancing, and having a great time, and my sister was just…

waiting. And he never showed.” Nate shook his head.

“I didn’t really give a fuck when he forgot my birthday.

Whatever, who gives a shit? But when he forgot Paige’s, it bothered me. A lot.

“So, ever since that next year when Paige turned eleven, and I was sixteen and could drive her around, I made it a point to always do something nice for her. To give her as many good birthday memories as possible, so she doesn’t associate it with heartbreak from that asshole.

” He paused again, the muscle in his jaw ticking.

I waited.

“The older I get, the more I don’t understand it.

My mom is a saint. How could someone have something so good and fuck it up so royally?

I like to think my dad’s not a bad person, that he just makes really stupid decisions.

He’s tried to make up for some of it over the years, but it doesn’t help.

His priorities are so fucking out of whack, and they always have been.

The way I see it, he should’ve never tried to be a dad or a husband if we weren’t going to be his priority.

Hell, people shouldn’t be in serious relationships at all if they know their priorities are elsewhere. It’s just selfish.”

Something in his words struck a chord, and suddenly, I understood Nate Cassidy so much better than I had minutes before.

He took a deep breath through his nose. “So, yeah.” He loosed the breath, chuckling.

“To answer your question—no, I’m not close with my dad anymore.

” He lifted a hand from the wheel again to run it reflexively through his hair and down the back of his neck.

“Enough about me. What about you? Any daddy issues?”

I’d never seen him so uncomfortable before. He’d shown me a level of vulnerability that had to feel foreign to someone as cool, calm, and collected as he was.

I picked at the ends of my hair. “Not ‘daddy’ issues, specifically. More like ‘family’ issues.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “A remix of a classic.”

“Yeah.” I laughed. “My parents… are good people. They tried their best, and I genuinely think they want what’s best for me and my siblings.

They got married young—I think they were eighteen and nineteen.

They had my oldest brother, Orion, within a year of getting married.

Then they had five more kids within ten years. ”

“Jesus,” Nate whispered to himself.

“I know. My parents were kids themselves when they started having kids. If I’m being honest, I don’t think they had any business having kids at that time.

They didn’t exactly make enough money to support a family that size, they didn’t have the best living situation, and they definitely weren’t mature enough.

I remember them fighting a lot when I was little.

Like teenagers. All-out screaming matches that would end with my dad leaving the house and my mom shutting herself in their room.

They loved each other, but they weren’t grown up enough to know how to work together rather than against each other.

“I’m the fourth out of six kids. My home growing up was pure chaos.

The house was always a cluttered mess, and I just remember it being so loud .

There were always at least two siblings fighting, especially my two older brothers.

Plus, my parents were never home, so there was nobody to mediate when things got out of hand.

Rion was left to figure out how to be in charge while my parents worked multiple jobs to make ends meet.

My older siblings were forced to grow up fast to raise the younger kids.

I’m sure you can guess how well that went. ” I chewed the skin on my lip.

“Since my oldest siblings were always in charge, I never got a say in anything. My opinions—my feelings—didn’t really matter.

Looking back, I struggled a lot with the chaos, the disorganization, the lack of stability.

I struggled with not being able to have a shred of control over anything in my life.

I just didn’t realize it until later. I think that’s where I started to develop anxious tendencies, which I still struggle with.

Therapy helped when my anxiety got out of hand a few years ago, but there’s still a long way to go…

” My voice trailed off as my thoughts shifted to my siblings.

I liked to think we all would be closer if we had different circumstances growing up.

We loved each other, we cared about each other, but we didn’t know each other.

Not as adults, anyway. We still saw each other as we did when we were kids.

Rion with his exacting rule. River, reckless, defying him at every turn.

Lily, the one who was really in charge. Me, trying to stay out of their way, happy to blend into the background.

Lucas, stirring shit up as much as possible just for the laughs.

And Aspen, too young and removed to care.

It would be great to get to know each other again—now that we’d grown up—but where were we supposed to start?

“My parents did the best they could in their situation, but it’s had an effect on all of us.

What’s sad is my siblings and I aren’t even that close anymore.

We’re all out doing our own things, living our own lives.

I talk to my older sister on occasion, but that’s about it.

We only get together on holidays—sometimes not even then.

And, yeah, that’s a SparkNotes version of my trauma.

” I swallowed, suddenly feeling like I shared too much.

Nate raised his eyebrows at me. “Six siblings, huh?”

I laughed, relieved at the broken tension. “Five siblings. Six, including me.”

“What are their names?”

“Orion, River, Lily, Lucas, and Aspen.”

“And Olive.”

My full name sounded funny when he said it. Other people used it interchangeably with my nickname, but never him. “And me.”

Nate didn’t say anything else. He just laced his fingers through mine and kept them there until I was home.