The beach.
The water.
The sky.
It was all different outside of the River Bay FCI, and Nate breathed in deeply through his nose, no fear of what he might smell.
“Uncle Nate,” Connor said from on the seat beside him.
“Yeah?” Nate looked down at the child, his eyes so much like Ward’s. Like, Nate’s too. Those deep, bright blue eyes came from their father, and Nate couldn’t find hardly any of Jane in her son.
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” Nate looked at Ginger, who’d already started to decelerate.
“There’s a place right up here,” she said, easing one of her booted feet onto the brake. She made the turn and a couple of blocks down, she pulled into a fast food restaurant.
Nate sat there, because he didn’t know if he could take Connor into the restroom alone. His heartbeat pulsed through his whole body, a pit of nervousness way down deep in his gut. He couldn’t just walk into this place, though the scent of breakfast hung in the air and tempted him to get a sausage and egg biscuit.
“Come on,” Ginger said, finally opening her door. “Get out my side, buddy. We’ll meet your uncle inside.” She tossed him a look as she slid from the truck and turned back to help Connor out.
The door slammed closed, and Nate flinched. He pressed his eyes closed and breathed through his nose again. He wasn’t wearing the prison blues and oranges. No one here would even know who he was, or that he’d been a free man—kind of—for less than two hours.
He opened the door and got out of the truck, closing the door much softer than Ginger had. She’d taken Connor into the restaurant, and Nate followed, finding them standing in the short hallway that led to the bathrooms.
He took Connor’s hand and went into the men’s room, wondering what Ginger was going to do. Probably just stand watch to make sure he didn’t try to run away with his nephew. He was pretty sure he could overpower her without even trying, but he had no desire to run.
He had nowhere to go.
He’d asked all kinds of questions on Wednesday night, but no one had known any of the answers. Finally, Warden Dickerson had said he’d find out everything he could—what Ward had done with the house, the bills, his money. Where his ex-wife was. Why his sister couldn’t take Connor, all of it—and Nate had been led to a comfortable enough room in Administrative Detention.
He’d only gone back to Unit NF once to get his belongings. The officers had made everyone leave the dormitory, so Nate could have as much time as he needed to clean out his locker without having to answer a bunch of questions.
Questions he didn’t have the answers to.
The Warden had learned that Ward had left everything to Nate. Absolutely everything, and he’d left him a long letter too, explaining everything. The Warden didn’t have it and couldn’t get it until that morning, when Lawrence the lawyer showed up again.
Nate had the letter now, but he needed complete privacy to study it again. He’d only had time to read it once, and he’d been sniffling when his Unit Manager had knocked and come inside.
Greg’s last words to Nate still tickled in his ears. Don’t be the same man leaving as you were coming in.
Nate didn’t feel like he was, and he’d taken the card Greg had given him. It was a professional business card, but Greg had put his personal number on the back. “Call anytime, Nate. Day or night.”
They’d hugged, and Nate had walked out with Connor. Easy as that. Too bad no one told him every step would be like torture. No one had told him the guilt would threaten to drown him as he left River Bay—and all the friends he’d made inside.
He’d left letters for Ted, Dallas, and Slate. The three men he was closest to. Ted had brought another man into their fold too, not long ago. Luke—not Lucas. That last bit was really important to the guy, and the reason he found himself in a low security facility with men who’d committed much worse crimes than assault with intent.
His crew. His friends. The Mulbury Boys Greg had called them. His throat closed again, and Nate didn’t know how to deal with all the issues streaming through him. He’d thought he’d had problems before, but he now knew how simple prison had made his life.
Nate blinked as Connor said, “Uncle Nate, my zipper’s stuck.”
He stepped over to the boy and helped him with his fly before they approached the sink to wash up. He had no idea what to say to Connor. He knew how to get a zipper up, though, and he knew he had enough money to buy the boy breakfast. Everything else, he’d have to learn one thing at a time.
Ward had told him to do exactly that.
I know you’ll feel inadequate. Heaven knows I do on a daily and sometimes hourly basis. But Nate, just take it one thing at a time. Just like you did in River Bay. One day at a time.
One hour. One minute.
Nate dried his hands and stepped into the hall to find Ginger hadn’t moved. “All good?” she asked, her eyes skating down to Connor.
“Yep.”
“You hungry, Connor?” he asked.
The boy looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “A little.”
“Can we get a sandwich?” he asked Ginger, because he honestly didn’t know the rules at all.
“Sure,” she said. “We won’t want to take long, though. The funeral.”
He nodded and went around the corner to the line to order. No one looked at him. No one waved a book of tickets in his face and told him to keep his eyes forward or he’d get a citation. No one swore or jostled for a place or breathed threats if he didn’t give up his spot in line.
These people had no idea how good their lives were.
He ordered for all of them and got a bag of biscuits and muffins and hashbrowns a few minutes later. Back in the truck with everyone, he started handing things out.
“Thank you,” Ginger said, and Connor echoed her.
Nate took a moment before he bit into his bacon and egg biscuit to think back to the last time someone had thanked him. His friends did. Maybe Greg and Ellen had, in time.
It felt nice.
“Connor!” Another little boy came running down the hall toward Nate and Connor, who let go of Nate’s hand and ran toward him too.
Nate’s step slowed, and not only from the unfamiliar child. Right around that corner sat his family. All of Ward’s friends and associates. He really didn’t want to be there, but there was no way Nate could skip his brother’s funeral.
A woman came around the corner, her expression bordering on panic. “Milo,” she said. “Oh.” She came to a complete stop, and Nate did too.
He drank in the sight of his sister. Bethany was seven years younger than him, but they’d been good enough friends growing up. She’d been engaged when he’d gone into River Bay, and she hadn’t come to visit him more than a handful of times. Usually on Christmas or his birthday, and that was all.
He knew why. Her husband had suffered the loss of both of his legs in a motorcycle accident, and she had her hands full. She rushed toward him then, tears spilling down her face. “Nate,” she said, grabbing onto him and sobbing into his chest.
Nate clenched everything he had in order to keep his own emotions inside, but it sure did feel good to have a hug from someone he loved. Someone who loved him. For so long there, Nate had wondered if his family would even want to speak to him again. Everyone, seemingly, had abandoned him.