And then there’s Nathan, who may or may not be dealing with a family emergency, who may or may not mean more to me than he should, who definitely trusted me more than he should and has every right to blame me for what just happened.
I growl again, my hands in fists, my eyes squeezed tight, my teeth bared.
These are murky waters and I don’t know how to navigate them. At the very least, Nathan deserves a response, so I find my phone, tell him all is well, then perch on the arm of my couch and hope that’s true.
THIRTY-THREE
Nathan
The parking lot at The Hut overflows with cars—all belonging to my family. I climb the steps to the wraparound porch of The Hutton Hotel, with the pristine white paint and the ferns drooping over their hanging pots. Sometimes it’s hard to believe my mother grew up here. That this was her home for most of her childhood. That the kitchen where my family waits is where she sat to do her homework. Where she ate dinner with her brothers, my grandmother, and the grandfather who died before I was born.
I pull open the front door and step inside. With tension lighting up my neck and shoulders, I enter the kitchen and pull up short. Aunt Kara sits at the table, shoulders shaking as she quietly cries. Uncle Wyatt stands behind her, a hand on her back, head bowed. His face is drawn and pinched. His eyes closed. Wyatt Hutton always has a smile ready for everyone but today, sadness hovers over him like ash blocking the sun.
Mom sees me and her face contorts with emotion. She rushes across the room, wrapping me in her arms, burying her face in my chest. I cup the back of her head as my gut twists with concern.
“Hey. Hey now,” I whisper, quiet. Afraid. Dad places a heavy hand on my shoulder and the weight of something terrible descends along with it.
My sister Maren arrives with her twin Joshua, and they hurry to join our little clump. Angela meets my gaze from across the room. She covers her heart with her hand, shaking her head and closing her eyes. Two fat tears trail down her cheeks and she swipes them away. Finally, after several more of us press into the kitchen, Uncle Lucas stands. As Grandma’s firstborn, he’s the spokesman of the family. The one we turn to for guidance. A former Marine who nearly lost his life, only to return home and find it again with his wife and family. He clears his throat and the soft murmurs of conversation die away. Not like people were talking much anyway.
“Thank you all for dropping everything to come here tonight.” Uncle Lucas casts a worried glance to his brother. Aunt Kara’s head drops even lower. Aunt Cat sits on one side while Grandma sits on the other, taking her son’s hand while she whispers in her daughter-in-law’s ear. Grandma’s second husband, Brendan, stands behind her, his hands on her shoulders.
“There's not a lot of information,” Lucas continues, “but Nick disappeared last night during a top-secret mission. As soon as they know more, we’ll know more.” His gaze travels over the occupants of the room, solemn but hopeful. “Remember though. Missing means he can be found. It’s easy to assume worse news is coming, but that won’t help Nick, and it certainly won’t be good for you. Avoid conjecture and stick with certainty.”
Tears prick my eyes as Maren sags against her twin, who wraps an arm around her shoulder and presses his head to hers.
Missing.
One of my worst fears realized.
Every time Nick deploys. Every time he’s silent for too long. Every time he misses a call, there’s a part of me that doesn’t rest until we hear from him again. His safety isn’t guaranteed. His luck won’t last forever.
And here we are. It’s happened.
Missing.
“He’ll be back.” Micah bobs his head as if he’s never been more certain of something in his life. His eyes crackle with an intensity that’s almost crazed as he drapes an arm around his wife’s shoulder and pulls his daughter close. “You can’t keep that guy down. Nick’s fine.”
Aunt Cat grips Kara’s hand while Grandma sighs deeply. Her heart is big enough to hold the whole world. Strong enough to bring her family together after my grandfather ripped them apart. If anyone knows what to say, it’ll be her.
“Kara. Kara, my love,” she croons. “My darling Wyatt, too. Listen to me. I know you’re hurting. We’re all hurting with you. But you can’t give in to your fears. The day I learned Lucas was injured was one of the worst days of my life. When they told me his heart stopped, mine did too. And for three infinite minutes I wasn’t sure it would start again. But there he is. Right here with us. He’s strong. He’s happier and healthier than I ever could have hoped for.”
Kara looks up, falling into Grandma’s eyes like she’s desperate for a lifeline. “Nick isn’t injured. He’s missing.” She chokes on the word and Uncle Wyatt lets loose a shuddering breath.
Injured is finite. It’s determined. It comes with answers and understanding, no matter how terrible.
But missing? It’s ephemeral. There’s no knowing. No certainty. Only hope and fear and the awareness that both are useless.
Grandma nods, accepting Kara’s feelings without hesitation. “You’ve been part of this family long enough to know Huttons are a tough breed. Even when it seems all is lost, we put up a hell of a fight. Everyone in this room has faced devastating odds, yourself included, but here we are. Nick is strong. He’s smart. He’s made of the kind of stuff you can’t keep down.”
Aunt Kara’s gaze lands on Grandma’s, wide and searching. “But what if—”
“There’s no room for ‘what if.’ Don’t even think ‘what if.’ Think about how good Nick is. How much you love him. Think about how you’ll feel when they find him. And remember, you’re not alone. You are surrounded by people who love you. People who will hold you up when you’re too tired to do it yourself.”
Murmurs of agreement sound through the room. An army of Huttons standing behind my aunt and uncle on one of the hardest days of their lives. All of us sharing the pain of not knowing but determined not to give up on Nick because Grandma’s right. You can’t bring a Hutton down. And Nick? He might be the best of us.
I swallow hard, swiping at tears filling my eyes, then cross the room to stand with my aunt and uncle, my hands on their shoulders, a physical reminder that I’m here with them. One by one, the rest of the family crowds in, heads bowed with worry, hearts heavy with concern, but stronger because we’re together.
THIRTY-FOUR
Mina
Hours pass without word from Nathan. Dinnertime comes and goes, but I’m too nervous to eat. I try to read, but stare at the same page for ten minutes without digesting one word. I turn on the TV as a last resort. It’s never been good at holding my attention. Tonight, though? With my thoughts firmly glued on Nathan and whether or not he’s avoiding me because of Fallon’s stupid ass article? There’s no chance the TV will help.
Fallon calls and texts, over and over, desperate to apologize for something she knew was wrong. There’s no way she believes a betrayal like that was right. She did what she did to get more views, certain I love her enough to forgive her. Or that I’m stupid enough to think she truly sabotaged my relationship because it’s good for me.
If I’d known she was one of those ‘better to ask for forgiveness than permission’ people, I would have valued her friendship differently. Life is hard enough without having to second-guess motives and protect yourself from selfish assholes who only care about themselves.
After living through the aftermath of Dad, I thought my screening process was airtight.
Looks like Fallon was right about one thing anyway. I see kindness where it doesn’t exist.
I ignore every buzz of my phone with her name attached.
I have nothing to say to Fallon fucking Mae. Not yet. Not until I’ve processed what she did. Not until I tell Nathan that she’s my friend. Not until I’ve seen what kind of damage that does to our relationship—assuming there still is one.
And with that bright and sunny thought, I’m up and pacing again. Picking up my phone to check on Nathan only to put it right back down for the hundredth time. He’ll reach out when he’s ready. So what if I've been a mess since he canceled tonight? That’s on me. On Fallon. Not him.
Or maybe it’s on the family stuff he said he was dealing with. Which is yet another reason to let him reach out when he’s ready.
Though, isn’t communication the cornerstone of any good relationship? If I’m worried, shouldn’t he know? Is there really a problem if I text him to say I’m thinking of him and hope everything’s okay?
I swipe my phone off the coffee table and draft a text, then read it three times to check for neediness, pushiness, clinginess…
…really any kind of ‘ness’ that might be construed as negative.
“For shit’s sake, Mina,” I mutter with a growl. “Less thinking. More doing.” With a shake of my head, I send the text, then watch for a sign of a response. My heart sinks when nothing happens.
Well, hell. There’s that, then. Whatever it means.
I lock the phone and put it down when a knock sounds at my door. My gaze whips up and I stare, confused. It’s too late for deliveries. Mom used to drop by unannounced, but she’s tucked into bed at Shady Cove. It could be the frat boys, drunk, lost and confused again, but this knock is too gentle to be them. Maybe it’s Fallon, desperate to have the discussion I’m not ready for, but that doesn’t ring true either. She knows me well enough to wait until I’ve cooled down before forcing me into a conversation. Of course, I thought she knew me well enough not to publish that article.
And then, this sense of knowing overcomes me.
It's him.
It’s Nathan.
He's here. Right there on my porch. No call. No text. Just here. That feels important somehow. It speaks of urgency. Of desperation. Of emotional decisions, not rational ones.
