“You made her stay in Eastridge and bury an urn by herself?” Nash stood nose-to-nose with Reed. “And when Ma asked where Emery was, you didn’t tell her the truth? And you’re pissed at us for lying?”
I expected an argument.
I expected some yelling.
I expected Betty to cry.
I did not expect Reed to swing his fist at Nash.
Reed’s knuckles connected with Nash's face. It barely budged.
“Close your fist if you intend on doing real damage, little brother.” Nash stepped forward into Reed’s fist the second time, allowing Reed free reign on his face.
Punch. Uppercut. Another punch.
“Stop!” Betty shouted.
Basil cocked her head and observed the situation, elbow resting on the island counter.
Meanwhile, I slithered between them, knowing it was a bad idea but doing it anyway. Nash’s eyes cut to mine at the same time Reed’s body fell forward, pushing me onto the hardwood.
Nash split his attention to me, lingering on my wrist cradled in my palm. He sprung into action, twisting Reed into a headlock. He bumped his knee against Reed’s, forcing him to kneel.
“Don’t fight it.” Voice low, his arm tightened around Reed’s neck. “Tap out, and I’ll let go. Don’t make Ma watch this.”
“Emery!” Betty rushed to me, hands flying over my face, but I couldn’t look away from Reed and Nash.
I imagined this was what watching an asteroid hit Earth would be like. Fascinating, destructive, and oddly beautiful.
It made sense how Nash had won so many fights. Boardrooms and offices were child's play. This was his element.
He wasn’t a cruel prince. He wasn’t a twisted warrior either. He was both, and it turned him into a man who would rather break than bend.
“Are you okay?” Betty brushed hair out of my eyes.
“I’m fine.” I thrust myself off the floor, enchanted by the enigma of Nash Prescott.
“Enough!” Betty grabbed a hot pink fly swatter and swung the thin plastic near her sons as if she wielded a knife. “Stop it! I will not have you stain my floors with your sweat and blood. I will not have you ruin my holiday. And I will not have my sons fighting in my kitchen like poorly trained dogs battling over scraps.”
Nash released Reed, who coughed a few dozen times. He beat at his chest, forcing more air out it.
“It’s my fault, Reed.” Betty set the swatter down and helped Reed to his feet. “Okay? I was the one who wanted to keep Dad’s illness from you. I was the one who told Nash to let you take the fall. It was me. Be mad at me.”
“Ma—”
“Let me finish. It was selfish, okay?” She cupped Reed’s cheek. “Nash shouldn’t have done that to the Cartwright boy, but when he tried to tell the cops it was him, I begged him not to. We needed him.”
“You needed the five hundred bucks he sent you and Dad each month,” Reed spit out. “I almost went to jail over five hundred dollars.”
“No, baby, I needed my family together.” Betty’s fists seized his collar. “You were a minor. He was an adult. I thought there was no way they’d actually arrest you, so I made a choice. I know now it was a wrong one…”
My lips parted. The wall caught my weight. Leaning against it, I sliced my gaze to Nash.
I remembered that night.
Broken nose, rib, and leg.
Separated collar bone.
Dislocated shoulder.
The scar on Able’s forehead I liked to smirk at.
Nash tried to tell the cops it was him, but I always thought he’d been covering for his brother.
“That was you?” I whispered to him.
Nash nodded. Once.
Tension coiled his neck. The fight mode hadn’t fled. Two clenched fists hung at his side. Blood trickled down his temple. A gash opened above his eye, which I figured would become swollen and black by tomorrow.
This warrior, with the cuts and bruises and scars across his chest, had fought for me.
“Why?” My murmur went unnoticed by Reed and Betty.
Nash, however, never looked away from me. “He hurt you.”
It never got that far, I wanted to argue, but I knew it was the same thing to Nash.
“Why did you let Reed hit you?”
“He needed it.”
Can you be any more selfless?
It might have been a flaw at this point.
Nash had a brash tongue, a lack of filter, and the uncanny ability to pinpoint the exact thing to say to throw someone off balance. He pushed people away, never allowed anyone to see beneath his skin, and had no problems hermiting himself for eternity.
He also gave so much of himself, the only thing he kept was his kiss, and I’d taken that from him, too. Sacrifices littered his past and would probably stain his future. And it was a very Nash thing to hurt someone to heal them.
People measure love by how much someone receives, but I measure it by how much someone gives. No one in the history of the universe has ever or will ever have more love than Nash Prescott.
My villain.
My knight.
My prince.
My Ben.
I had to tell him.
“I’m fine, Ma. Don’t worry about it.” Nash tossed the blood-stained rag into the trash, pressed a kiss to Betty’s forehead, and drew her in for a hug.
“You sure, baby?”
“Right.” Reed leaned against Basil, who slid a palm into his back pocket. “Coddle him some more, Ma. Good going.”
They ignored him.
Reed swore, grabbed his phone and keys, and swung an arm around Basil's shoulder. “I’m sorry for ruining our breakfast, Ma. Basil and I have to get going. We’ll be back later, but I don’t think we’ll make it to Pastor Ken’s sermon.”
Betty turned to him. “It’s okay, baby. The walls of a hospital have heard more sincere prayers than Eastridge’s church. We can stop by the children’s unit later and donate some teddy bears.”
“Sounds good, Ma.”
Reed locked eyes with Nash before kissing Betty’s cheek. I followed him to the door, surprised when Basil tipped a shoulder up at me, as if to say, boys, what can you do?
I slid my hands into my pockets after Basil left for the restroom. “Are you mad at me?”
Fury lined Reed’s face for a second. He released a sigh and gathered me into a hug. “No, but I hope you know what you're doing.”
I don’t.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I offered him a lazy grin and rested my forehead against his shoulder.
I hadn’t had an opportunity to mourn the idea of me and Reed, to dig a grave, and label it friendship. In reality, I should have years ago when I’d slept with Nash. But standing in Reed’s arms, I realized why I never had to.
My heart didn’t caper inside its cage.
My body didn’t experience an earthquake.
I wanted to understand him, but I didn’t yearn for it.
I felt loved, but not in love.
He was just… Reed Prescott.
My best friend.
That’s all.
Only ever my best friend.
I palmed a stash of joints.
I’d poached them from Reed’s bag before he left, just to fuck with him for the punch. Leaning against the hood of my car, I watched Emery run her fingers across the massive double gates to the Winthrop Estate.