Page 16 of The Meaning Of You (Fisher & Church #1)

I saw the second Lachlan made his decision. He slumped in his chair and breathed out a long sigh. “When Davis had the accident, I tried to get hold of Justin, but he didn’t pick up. Not that day, not ever again. Ten days later, I heard the police found his body dumped in the Waitākere Ranges. He’d been shot. The time of death wasn’t conclusive, but the police thought he’d been there a week, possibly more.”

Nick looked to me and I did the calculations in my head. They could’ve happened on the same day. I squeezed his hand again and he gave a soft nod.

Lachlan licked his lips. “A really big coincidence, right? Although fucked if I know how they’d be related.”

The hamster wheel in my brain spun faster. What the hell was going on? A thread of fear curled in my gut, and when I turned to Nick, he looked thunderstruck. Pale as a ghost, mouth gaping, eyes wide and panicked.

“Y-you’re saying that Justin’s death and Davis’s accident are linked?” Nick finally managed in a thin voice.

“ Might be,” Lachlan amended.

Nick stared at him, his stunned expression mirroring my own. “Then why the hell didn’t you go to the police?”

Lachlan shook his head. “And tell them what exactly? There’s zero evidence. We don’t even know exactly when Justin was killed. It could’ve been days after Davis saw him. If the two incidents are related, then it might also mean one of two things. Either Davis was involved with Justin’s death in some way.” Lachlan’s hand shot up as we both opened our mouths to protest. “Hear me out.”

We fell quiet.

“ Or he saw something, which in turn led to his accident .” He made finger quotes.

“Are you saying someone drove him off that road?” Nick’s grip on my hand turned vice-like. “Because there’s no way Davis would have been involved with a murder. It’s simply ridiculous.”

Lachlan opened his hands. “I’m saying, I don’t know.”

I leaned forward. “And how does that connect to the break-ins and today at the caravan?”

Lachlan shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe Davis had something important with him that day and they’re still looking for it. Maybe they tried after the accident but couldn’t find it. Davis’s death might’ve been an incentive to look again. I really don’t know. As for telling the police, if I had said something at the time, who do you think would’ve topped their persons-of-interest list? Davis and me, most likely. And if I’d started asking a whole lot of questions, it could’ve put both of us in the firing line from whoever killed Justin. Because if they took out Davis as well, then they mean business. Business that you and I want nothing to do with.”

Nick gaped. “You’re forgetting, it’s not like we have a choice here. They’re looking for something and we have no idea what it is.”

Lachlan softened his tone. “All I know is Justin dealt with a lot of nasty people. Any one of them could’ve been responsible for his death. Not that Justin was all bad himself. He helped an underground railroad that got victims of domestic abuse away from their abusers and into a new life. In the worst cases, he did it for free. His father killed his mother when Justin was seven, so you might say he had a vested interest.”

“Jesus.” I didn’t want to feel sorry for the guy, but shit.

Nick remained quiet. Too quiet. I thought about his own mother’s experience and how conflicted that made him. I pulled his hand onto my lap and wrapped my other hand around it. He stared at the screen without seeming to really see it, his right leg jiggling anxiously against mine. I pressed my thigh into his and the jiggling settled.

“So, you just walked away?” I asked in an accusatory tone that made Lachlan’s eyes widen.

“No.” He huffed. “Of course not. What do you take me for? I tapped all my sources but there was nothing to find. Zero. Nothing to link the two incidents other than the fact I knew Davis had visited Justin the same week Justin disappeared. Hardly a smoking gun and certainly not enough to risk sticking my neck out with both the police and whoever killed Justin.”

“Jesus Christ.” Nick slumped in his chair, looking as shocked as I’d ever seen him. “Do you at least have a last name for this Justin guy?”

Lachlan’s uncertain gaze flicked between us. “Leonard. Justin Leonard. Although I doubt it’ll help you any. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t his real name.”

I released Nick’s hand to write it down, then threaded our fingers together again while he asked another question. “How far from the accident site did he live?”

Lachlan raised a brow at our joined hands on the table but said nothing. His fingers drummed on the table as he answered. “Five kilometres or so, maybe more. I’ll send you the map link, but it was sold over a year ago.”

Nick and I shared a look. His phone dinged and he clicked on the link. We both fell quiet, and I figured he was thinking the same thing as me. Justin’s house and the accident site were way too close for comfort. Nick closed the map and we returned to the call.

“There should be a fat file on Justin’s death with the police,” Lachlan asserted. “I heard they went through the place with a fine-tooth comb when his body was found. No one had reported him missing prior to that.”

Nick shook his head. “And they never made a link with Davis’s accident that happened around the same time?”

Lachlan shrugged. “I don’t imagine there was any reason to, especially since no one could say exactly when Justin was killed.”

Nick blew out a long sigh and I pressed against him, hoping to offer some comfort. Receive some too, if I was being honest. He leaned into the touch and shot me a grateful look.

“Is that the last of the secrets?” he asked in a slightly broken voice that begged the answer to be yes.

Lachlan nodded. “The last of mine. I can’t speak for your husband.”

Nick eyed him speculatively but let it go.

I interrupted the standoff. “You must have contacts you could reach out to? People who might know if Nick was being targeted and by whom. And maybe what they were looking for.”

“Mads is right,” Nick agreed. “There must be something you can do.”

Mads? I turned a frown on Nick, but he was clearly unaware of what he’d said as his gaze remained fixed on the journalist.

Lachlan’s jaw worked in irritation. “Okay, fine, I’ll put some feelers out for you. It’s all I can do. Meantime, if I were you, I’d avoid the townhouse since they’ve been there. Find somewhere else to stay until this sorts itself out.”

“Maybe it was the laptop?” Nick mused, sounding hopeful. “It was in the caravan, after all, not the townhouse. If so, they have it now. Maybe we have nothing to worry about.”

Lachlan grunted. “Let’s hope you’re right. I’ll call when I have something or when I’ve exhausted my options. Don’t be chasing me up or you’ll just piss me off. Now good night.”

The screen went black and Nick pushed the phone away. He stared at our still joined hands, puzzled, like he couldn’t work out how they’d got there. “Guess I was more nervous than I thought.” He slipped his hand free and dropped it into his lap.

“You need to go wash it?” I indicated his hand. “I mean, you never know, right?”

His flush deepened. “That’s not what...” Then he caught my grin and groaned. “Shut up, will you?”

I chuckled and pushed my chair back, turning it to face him. “I didn’t realise Davis’s accident happened so close to here. You never mentioned it.”

He shrugged. “No need to. Coincidence, right? Besides, it didn’t really click until we talked at New Year and you showed me around your house.”

I didn’t press. “So, what do you think about Lachlan?”

Nick sighed and shook his head. “Fucked if I know. I’m still caught between relief that Davis wasn’t cheating on me and furious with him for keeping all this stuff a secret. What the fuck was he doing messing around with these characters? The investigators never once hinted that the crash was anything other than an accident. And Samuel is one of their own, for fuck’s sake. He followed the whole thing close enough to piss them off. If something had been awry, he’d have heard about it.” He dropped his head to the table with a tired groan. “Bloody hell. What a mess.”

I slid my glasses from my nose to the table and rubbed my tired eyes. “Whether it’s true or not, I think Lachlan was right when he said we need to be careful. You should stay here for a bit.”

Nick’s head shot up. “Here?”

I snorted. “No need to make it sound like a death sentence.”

“I didn’t mean . . . that . . . it’s just . . . my cat . . . and stuff.”

It wasn’t, and we both knew it. “Then tell Samuel to pick her up on his way tomorrow. I have no problem hosting a feline guest as long as she doesn’t claw the furniture or piss on my books. Same goes for human guests, as it happens, you included.”

He snorted. “She doesn’t. Can’t say the same about me though.”

I stood and squeezed his shoulder. “You call Samuel and I’ll clean up. And tell him to bring her food, and a bed if she has one.”

“She sleeps with me.” Nick started typing a text while I pondered that surprising fact. The prickly man slept with a cat in his bed while professing to not really be a cat guy. Go figure. A few seconds later the phone dinged and Nick read the reply.

“Samuel says fine, but I’ve apparently got some explaining to do.” He looked up. “Shocker, right?”

I snorted. “Then we’ve done all we can for now. How about you take yourself into the lounge and make some notes on what we’ve learned while I finish in the kitchen? After that I’ll show you to the guest bedroom.”

“I can help.” He made as if to join me.

“No,” I rushed to answer, raising a hand. “It’ll only take longer if I have to tell you where to put everything.”

He smirked. “And you don’t want me messing up your cupboards, right?”

I rolled my eyes. “ And I don’t want you messing up my cupboards.”

“Fine.” His chair scraped back and he got to his feet, tucking the laptop under his arm. “This is me getting out of your hair.”

“A wise decision.” I was halfway to the kitchen when I spun back around. “Oh, and what’s the deal with Mads? The only people who ever called me Mads were my first boyfriend, which is no recommendation in case you’re wondering, and my high school art teacher who shortened every noun in the known universe with a shocking disregard for syntax and grammar.”

Nick’s mouth turned up in a slow sexy smile that definitely did not make my knees wobble. “And then there’s me.”

“No, not you,” I argued a little too weakly for my liking.

Nick’s head tilted to the side. “But Madigan is such a mouthful, don’t you think?”

And good god, he never even blinked. I, on the other hand, blinked enough for the both of us and suddenly couldn’t find my words. “I, um... that’s not the... Jesus, Nick.”

The smile slid off his face and he unexpectedly apologised. “Sorry. That just slipped out.” Then he snorted. “Oops. Did it again.”

I bugged eyes at him.

He grinned and circled a finger at me. “Equally juvenile, just so you know.”

“Has anyone mentioned how exasperating you can be?”

Another grin. “What do you think? But okay, if you prefer Madigan, then Madigan it is.”

A perfect bloody answer, of course. Because I did prefer Madigan. I did. Unequivocally, I did. So, why then did I find the idea of Nick calling me Mads ridiculously appealing? Like it meant something. Like we were back in the studio talking in circles around an idea neither of us was ready for, let alone able to voice. Something fragile and still finding its legs. Something little more than a whispered thought.

“Mads will be fine.” The words burst from my tongue like a shotgun round and about as subtle.

Nick arched a brow, looking surprised. “It is?”

I shrugged. “It’s just a name, right?”

He crossed the floor, not stopping until he was standing directly in front of me. “It’s not just a name,” he said, almost sternly. “It’s your name. And that means it’s important because you’re important. Because you matter, Madigan. And you get to choose how people address you.” Those ash-grey eyes met mine and he lifted his hand to run the back of his fingers down my cheek, our faces so close it wouldn’t have taken much to bridge the gap and put my lips on his. “So, what’s it gonna be?”

I froze in place, a shiver licking its way up my spine as the tension between us spiralled. Nick’s pupils expanded; the grey pushed out to the edges as his breathing quickened. I almost leaned in, but stopped when I saw his eyes start to widen in surprise.

I held my place as his gaze travelled my face. Then he blinked, breaking eye contact. His hand fell away and he stepped back, those grey eyes no less intense for the added distance. He swallowed and cleared his throat but he never looked away. “Madigan or Mads?”

I kept a lid on my disappointment and met his level gaze with one of my own. “Like I said, Mads is fine. It’ll irritate me, but so do you. Seems fitting, now I think about it.”

He snorted, the gleam of victory lighting up his eyes and putting paid to whatever moment it was that we’d shared just a few seconds ago. “I think that means I win.”

I toyed with punching him but settled for “Don’t be a prick or I’ll rescind the invitation.”

A broad grin split his face. “No, you won’t. But I’ll keep out of your hair, anyway.” He nodded to the lounge but didn’t move. “And I owe you another apology.”

I raised both brows. “For which thing?”

He almost smiled. “For being a dick.”

I smirked. “You’re gonna need to narrow it down.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He shook his head. “For biting your head off when I wanted to call Lachlan. You were only trying to help and it wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.”

Oh.

He headed to the lounge without waiting for a response and I fled to the kitchen, pulse racing. I wasn’t a kid anymore and I didn’t do flustered, but Nick Fisher was giving me emotional whiplash. An arsehole one minute and a freaking mallow puff the next.

“Okay, so, this is weird, I get that.” I leaned on the countertop and whispered to the spirit of a man I’d never met, a man who’d known Nick far better than me. “But if you’re okay with... this ... then I’d appreciate a few pointers here. He’s a bit of a dick, which I’m guessing isn’t news to you, so, you know, if you get a minute... some help maybe?”

Laughter echoed in my brain along with the words, Yeah, good luck with that.

“Gee, thanks.” I glared at the ceiling and then cleaned until the kitchen gleamed and my world felt a little more... balanced. Not talking to ghosts was a good first step along that path, although I’d never been one to close the door on any of that shit. The older you got, the more you realised that the world was a lot more complicated than you thought.

When I finally made my way back into the lounge, Nick was lying on the sofa, laptop open on his chest, eyes closed, lips slightly apart, and fast asleep. I slumped into the chair opposite and studied him, this enigmatic man who’d walked into my perfectly ordered life and turned it the fuck upside down.

His T-shirt had snagged behind his back, exposing the soft rise and fall of his belly and that mat of blondish-silvery hair. The sight held my attention for far too long not to be creepy, but I eventually managed to drag it up to safer ground.

Even in sleep with his face relaxed, the strain of the last twenty-four hours was etched into Nick’s face. For the first time since we’d met, he looked every one of his fifty-four years. Still undeniably hot, but there was more silver in his hair and fresh lines of exhaustion carved deep into his brow. And he’d lost weight. His jeans hung looser on his waist, his jowls a little slacker. For all that he blustered and pushed people away, Nick Fisher hadn’t been doing as well as he’d wanted people to believe. The recent discoveries about Davis couldn’t have helped.

Davis. The man’s name rattled around in my brain more often than I would’ve liked, but never more than when Nick and I shared the same space. Before Nick came along, I wasn’t sure I believed in the all-consuming type of love that he described. I’d kind of dismissed the way he talked about their relationship, convinced it was nothing more than the product of Nick almost losing Davis. Four months down the track, I had to admit I’d been wrong.

The realisation was concerning to say the least. Because it begged the question of whether it was possible for me as well. Then again, the only man who’d ever interested me in that way was the one least likely to return the feeling. Nick didn’t seem to believe in a second chance at that kind of love, and I still wasn’t sure I believed in a first.

I circled the coffee table and removed the laptop from his chest. He muttered Davis’s name and rolled onto his side, but he didn’t wake. I sighed and shook my head. Fifty-five years a bachelor, and when I finally fell hard for a man, it had to be one of the really complicated ones. I wanted Nick Fisher in the worst way, which didn’t bode well, and I wasn’t going to hang around and wait if he didn’t want me back the same way. I refused to play second fiddle to anyone, dead or alive, including Davis Minton. Nick would need time, no question. But that time wasn’t open-ended.

I manoeuvred the cushion under his head and draped a throw over his body. He pulled it tight under his chin and breathed out a long sigh, his eyes remaining closed. I tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear, then laid my palm on his forehead. He was cool to the touch, so I reached for the remote and adjusted the air con.

I thought about returning to my chair but instead parked my butt on the coffee table and watched his chest rise and fall in quiet sleep. It was the most settled I’d seen him since I found him on my deck, and for that I was thankful. Whatever was going on, I could only hope any fresh revelations didn’t flay Nick quite as badly as the question over his husband’s fidelity. Thankfully, it appeared Davis hadn’t been a stupid man, after all.

But me? Yeah. I had stupid all wrapped up and tied with a pretty bow.

I needed my head read.

Whatever Nick and I were doing, it was akin to a game of whispers where you never knew if you were getting the message right, and I’d always sucked at those. All I knew was that Nick Fisher troubled my heart in ways I didn’t understand. In ways that completely fucking terrified me.

He’d even given me an out, like he could see the train wreck coming clearer than me. A red flag for sure, and one I should probably have paid attention to. I had a good life. A life I loved. One I’d built to keep me safe and happy. But, turns out, I wasn’t as happy as I’d thought. And Nick Fisher was anything but safe.

I blew out a long sigh and peered into the box sitting on the coffee table next to me. The one with everything found in and around Davis’s car that fateful day. I stared into the jumble of books and papers and remembered Lachlan’s words.

Maybe Davis had something important with him that day and they want it back.

My curiosity spiked; I glanced over at Nick who was still fast asleep. It was a risk, sure. Nick might’ve invited me to take a look through the box earlier in the evening, but that was then and this was now, and Nick Fisher was nothing if not contrary.

Then again, fuck it. Nick had brought this problem to my front door and asked for my help. His brother-in-law was due in the morning, and I was involved up to my eyeballs whether I liked it or not. Not to mention the two of us were... well... something . I rolled eyes at myself. Maybe it was only a smidge above friends, but that smidge counted, right? It did. It really fucking did.

I glanced once more at Nick, then carried the box back over to the armchair and set it at my feet. I’d start at the top and work my way through. If Nick had a problem with what I’d done when he woke, then he could just fucking deal with it.