11. Nate

ELEVEN

Carter's fingersglided along the piano keys, and magic swirled around the vast living room. I had once told him how incredible the melody he'd improvised was, and Carter had blinked at me, all confused. "That's just warm-up," he'd said, a cocky smirk on his sexy lips.

I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows with a whiskey on ice in my hand. The city lights lit the night sky, glimmering far around. People, cars, and the sounds of life were all outside our little universe. Here, Carter and I ruled and made all the wonders come to life.

Carter's melody was pure improv. He wasn't in the habit of writing his music down. He swore he would remember it if it was good enough. But it was his low opinion of his music that made a lot of the sounds fade from his memory.

I often wondered what his future might look like. Most commonly, when Carter practiced piano or guitar — which had a place of honor on one of my armchairs as of late since Carter split his time evenly between his place and mine — I gazed out the window and imagined the incredible life that awaited him. Would I have a role to play in it? Selfishly, I wanted to. I wanted to witness his rise to fame. I wanted to be the person he came home to and popped a bottle of champagne with. I wanted to wait for him backstage and be the first to kiss him after a performance.

Silly old romantic, a voice whispered from the back of my head. But that was the thing about Carter. He made me feel much younger than I was. And when I felt my years, they didn't weigh so heavy. Lately, I sometimes thought of myself as only thirty-eight.

My thoughts jumped ahead. I could see him doing anything under the sun. Scoring movies, performing in front of crowds, joining a band, or going at it solo. I could imagine him succeeding at anything so long as his fingers were near an instrument and the passion for the art burned bright in him.

I had once floated the idea of helping him out. It had been an admittedly stupid idea, but I had thought to help him get ahead of the line. Carter had simply shaken his head. "No way I'd let you do that. If I can't make it happen, I don't want it." I never mentioned it again because my feelings for him doubled in that instant, and I understood exactly what he wanted.

There were better ways to support him than to offer my contacts or my money, which he adamantly refused as well. Carter was doing gigs in restaurants and bars a few times a week, which was enough to cover his rent but not much else. He feared Dana would discover the regular expense and put the pieces together, so he avoided spending more than he had while living in the Titans' team house.

The only kind of support he needed was the emotional one. He loved practicing in front of me, so I made sure to listen. And I loved listening to his music nearly as much as I loved being kissed by him.

I often found a way to watch his performances as days got cold and short. And I often found bits of time to run away somewhere new with him. Those were the best days.

Elsewhere in my life, the Titans had felt the sting of a loss and were determined never to let that happen again. They couldn't win every game, but they never lost due to the lack of trying. Coaching them became another kind of pleasure. It kept me busy, and, truth be told, seeing the boys win was far more gratifying than I had expected.

"Do you like this?" Carter asked from behind the piano.

I swirled the whiskey in my glass and smiled. "Do you need to ask?"

Carter grinned, then waggled his eyebrows at me. "What are you thinking about?"

"Everything," I said softly. Rain began pattering against the huge windows. The drops caught the city lights, twinkling and blurring the world.

"Everything?" Carter repeated, mock impressed.

I nodded slowly. "I'm thinking about how different my life is from what I expected."

"Or what you were used to," Carter offered.

"That, too." I took a lick of my whiskey and set the glass on the small round table near the corner of the room.

Carter got up and crossed the space between us. He put a hand on my face and looked up at me. "You stopped bitching about those four gray hairs on the back of your head."

I narrowed my eyes at him as if to thank him for reminding me. "Bitching?" I asked, incredulous.

"And moaning," Carter said decisively.

He was being smug with me, but he knew what that earned him. In the two months of being with me, he had studied this lesson well. In this one thing, Carter seemed to deliberately be a slow learner. So I had to teach him again.

He didn't see it coming, judging by the yelp that burst from his mouth when I bent and swept him off his feet. Tossing him over my left shoulder like a sack of beans, I didn't mind his flailing or pleading for mercy. I smacked his peachy ass with my right hand, my left arm wrapped around his legs, and turned to carry him into the bedroom. "You've got a mouth on you, kid," I said.

The slap on the back of my head was well deserved. He hated it when I called him that, even if I was only teasing, which made it that much more interesting. As I neared the wide arch between the living room and the kitchen, my doorbell rang.

We froze instantly, and I carefully dropped Carter to his feet. "That's got to be Beckett."

Carter agreed. "Someday, he'll have to learn I'm in the running to be his new uncle."

"Don't I know it?" I mused as I walked over to the front door. Before I could look at the feed from the downstairs camera, Carter's sharp inhale stopped me in my tracks.

"Shit, Nate. Shit," he hissed.

"What is it?" My heart dropped. Something bad, judging by his tone.

"I've got seventeen missed calls from Dad," Carter said, his voice thin and almost childish with anxiety. It made me want to wrap my arms around him and let him know I would make everything alright.

The doorbell rang again, and I hurried to let my nephew in. Carter would have to slip into the bedroom, and we would deal with this once I found a way to send Beckett away. Why on Earth would he be here unannounced? Unless something bad had happened to him, too. My own anxiety flared to life, but then I stumbled as I saw the screen by the door.

"He's here," I whispered. "Carter, Dana's downstairs." My old friend had a hard, cold expression on his face, distorted by the angle of the camera.

"What?" Carter gasped. "My dad?"

Carter was growing more pale by the second. I crossed the room and grabbed his forearm, pulling him close to my body and wrapping one arm protectively around him. "It'll be fine," I said as he looked up into my eyes. I bent down to kiss him softly and gently and savored it like a drop of water when I was lost in a desert. After kissing him, I stepped back. "Go to the bedroom, Carter. Don't come out."

My heart was hammering, but I wouldn't show that to him. Right now, I needed to be the strong one, the calm one, so that Carter could be as brave as he had to be. Dana was here, which couldn't mean anything good. Even the fact that he was in the city was a bad omen, let alone standing outside my door.

Carter blinked once, slowly, and nodded. His gaze was on me as he retreated around the kitchen and dining area, through the door, and into the bedroom. He shut the door quietly as if any sound might give him away.

Why would Dana seek me out in the city unannounced? I didn't know. I didn't want to think about it. The first thought that crossed my mind was the most terrible one. But as he impatiently shifted the weight from one leg to the next, I knew I had to let him in. I could pretend I wasn't home, but that could only make things worse if he were onto something.

"Dana?" I spoke in a surprised tone after pressing the speakerphone button. "What the hell are you doing here, man?"

"Nate, buddy, sorry to come so suddenly, but I need your help," Dana said, his gaze searching and finding the camera. "Would you let me in?"

"Come right up," I said, wondering if something in my tone had already betrayed me. I'd had a lifetime of practice in the art of lying. I had lied to everyone I had ever met. Hell, I'd lied to myself more often than anyone, but those lies had only been about me alone. This was about Carter, now.

My heart lurched, and I snatched Carter's warm jacket from the coatrack and rushed into the bedroom. "Take this and stay here," I reminded him, making my voice as composed and calm as I could. "It's gonna be fine."

Carter's expression was all but cool. He bit his lip, his face growing pale and eyes white with fear. "Promise?"

"I promise," I said. "I'll make everything right." I pulled the door shut as I stepped back, regretting not stealing one more kiss before having to face my old friend. My lover's father.

I walked over to the front door and balled my fists. Tingles crashed against each other in my arms as I forced myself to stand still. Every part of me wanted to pace with worry, but I wouldn't give in to that.

When the elevator dinged, I unlocked and opened my door. Dana's footsteps rushed up the hallway in a businesslike manner and with urgency. When he reached my door, he seemed relieved. "I'm so glad I found you here," he said.

To that, I had no idea what to say. "Come in."

Dana entered my apartment and glanced around, thrusting his hand out. It was an awkward shake, considering how long it had been since we'd last spoken to each other. Things weren't exactly sour between us, but some words had been exchanged that made all our future interactions a little more challenging. He'd always felt like I had overstepped, but I had felt like I hadn't done enough.

I closed the door after the handshake, and we stood in silence for a heartbeat too long. My mind raced, and I remembered to use my lips and tongue. "Wanna drink?" I asked.

"Sure, I could use a drink," he said.

The way he phrased it gave me an opening. "Is everything alright, man? You come here after all these years, not a word to give me a heads-up. What's chasing you?" We moved into the kitchen, and I avoided looking at my bedroom door. Acting as naturally as I could, I picked up two clean glasses, poured a couple of ice cubes inside, and splashed a bit of whiskey over them.

After I pushed one across the island, I lifted mine to my lips, watching my old friend curiously. We were the same height, but Dana had always been broader than me. The creases on his forehead were full of concern. His thinning hair was a little wet from the rain, as were his shoulders, packed tightly inside his coat.

"This place didn't change a bit," Dana said, glancing around the apartment. "How long since that party? Four years? Five?"

"Something like that," I said in a flat voice. I waited for him to state the reason for this visit, but his reluctance worried me. I watched him intently until he returned his gaze to my face. The friendliness winked out, and steel determination set in his eyes.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked, his voice rising a little.

"What do you mean?" I wanted to clear my throat, but I knew it would make me extra suspicious. How did people without secrets speak? What kind of tone? Which inflection? I seemed to have forgotten how to be a regular person.

"When I left," he said as if that explained something. He was a good-looking man. Suddenly, I saw some of Carter's features in Dana, but it was the mother's beautiful genes that dominated in my boy. Dana brought the glass to his lips and sipped his drink. "Did I insult you?"

"Dana, I don't know what you're…"

"Because if I did, I would apologize. Just tell me what it is, Nate," he said, accusation so subtle in his tone that I might have imagined it. Until he went on. "I would rather know what you think I did to you than to have you backstab me like this."

My hand tightened around my glass. My heart was pounding inside my skull. "Whatever you think…"

Anger flared on his face. "My son dropped out," he snapped. "Over two months ago, Nate. Over two goddamn months."

I hoped relief wasn't showing on my face. For a moment, I had forgotten where Dana's priorities always were. "That's why you're here?" I asked, keeping my voice as composed as I could. It took physical strength to do that, and the grip on the glass made my knuckles hurt.

"You're his coach, dammit," Dana spat. "How is it possible that he left your team, and I don't know about it?"

I narrowed my eyes, unable to resist it. "Well, how is it possible, Dana?"

"Don't you dare," he hissed, his finger lifting off the glass that he was bringing to his mouth, pointing at me warningly. He'd ignored his son in all the ways, only ever caring about his name and reputation, about his legacy. He was a man so in love with what he had accomplished in his youth that he had never considered there might be anything else in life he needed to know or do. "Don't you fucking dare, Nate. I'm not listening to another lecture. Do you hear me?"

I kept my lips sealed, but my gaze pierced him nonetheless.

He set the glass down after taking another sip. He exhaled and drummed his fingers against the counter. "Get this. I have to have my manager show me how my son embarrasses himself on TikTok with that stupid guitar, all behind my back and against my approval…" His voice cut off abruptly, and he looked at me. "I came here as soon as I could. I looked for him where he was supposed to be living. And what did I find? Carter moved out of the house in September."

I clenched my teeth and cocked my head to one side. "Why exactly are you here, Dana?" I asked.

He shot me an accusing look. "You know goddamn well why I'm here. You should have called me, Nate. When my son got this stupid idea to walk away from everything he's worked for, you should have called me."

"If Carter wanted you to know, he would have told you," I said.

"Don't give me that bullshit. He's a child, for fuck's sake. What does he know about these things? He threw away his one ticket to success, and you let him. I'm sure you encouraged it. Didn't you? You always had a soft spot for his silly fantasies, Nate." Dana pushed himself away from the island and paced around. "I swear to God, Nate, if I find out you had anything to do with this, I'll sue your ass."

I barked out a laugh. The man obviously needed someone to blame. "Sue my ass for what? Not calling?" I finished my whiskey in a bigger gulp than I'd meant and put the glass down louder than I'd intended. "You told me not to meddle, didn't you?"

"I told you not to encourage him," he all but shouted. "When he wanted to be gay, you fucking applauded him. I told you to stay the fuck out of it. Oh, I see. It hurt your feelings." His mocking tone didn't bother me. What broke my heart was the fact that Carter could hear his father's words loud and clear behind that door. "I told you to back the fuck off, so you waited until you had a chance. Tell me I'm wrong, Nate. Tell me this isn't your doing."

"Jesus Christ, Dana, you're deranged," I growled. "Carter's old enough to choose what he wants to do with his life."

"Even if that means throwing his life away?" Dana demanded. "You had a moral obligation to stop him, you fuckwit."

I clapped my hands together and walked around the island. "We're done here, Dana."

The man paced just the same. "We're done here when I say so."

"No." The strength of my voice made him pause. "I'm done listening to your bullshit. I'll tell you this only once. If you push that young man to follow your dream, you'll do more damage than he could ever do to himself. He has the right to choose his career as much as you and I did."

"We went through hell to get to where we are," Dana said. If he weren't seething, I would have thought he was reminiscing. "And he had it served on a silver fucking platter. Is that why you let him go? Why you didn't try to stop him? Because he had a shortcut, unlike you."

I narrowed my eyes. He was luring me into a fight that could end badly for all three of us. I didn't want to punch my lover's father, not after giving Carter my heart and pledging to be his for as long as he wanted me. Not after walking barefoot over the sharp rocks that formed the path that had brought us together. "Carter's got talent. I'll give you that. But if he doesn't want it, nothing you say will change his mind."

"My money will," Dana said. "If I don't find him tonight, I'll cut him off. We'll see how long he'll last before he comes to me with his tail between his legs."

I wouldn't tell him that Carter would be just fine without his money.

"Where did he go?" Dana demanded. "Where does he live now?"

I shrugged. "How the hell should I know?"

"Don't lie to me, Partridge," he snapped louder. "Carter listened to me until you started coaching him. It's so like you to whisper into his ear and tell him he can do whatever he sets his mind to. It's like you don't even know what kind of world you live in. Silly little dreamers die in drug dens every day."

"You need to leave, Dana," I said coolly.

The man shook his head and walked around, nearing the hallway. His head turned left and right, and he stopped abruptly at the arch between the kitchen and living room. "What's that?" he asked, urgency in his voice as if an Eldritch monster had appeared in my apartment. "What the fuck is that, Partridge?"

"What?" But as I asked, I remembered.

Dana rushed into the living room and returned even faster. "This is his guitar, you son of a bitch."

I fought against my eyes closing in surrender. My heart sank so low that my stomach throbbed with each heartbeat. Fuck. "Dana…"

"Don't you fucking say a word to me," Dana yelled. "Is he here? Does he live with you now? What the fuck is going on, Partridge?"

"Calm down," I said firmly, but Dana was off the rails. "Calm the fuck down, or I'll get the security to drag your ass out."

Dana held the guitar by its neck as he stormed toward me. He stopped two feet away. "You can try," he said venomously, "but they won't get here in time. Truth, Partridge. I want the truth. Now."

"Truth?" I asked. "The truth is that you're bullying your son, and you're going to break him. And I won't fucking let you. Not on my watch, Dana."

His eyes widened as he looked from me to the guitar. Anger faded as something far worse came over his face. Horror. The slow realization opened the doors to blind rage that contorted his face. "You're sleeping with him," he said, almost breathless.

I should have acted offended, put up a fight, but the accusation seemed so impossibly undeniable that I only pressed my lips tighter.

It was as good as a confirmation. A moment too late, I knew that for a fact.

"I'm going to kill you!" Dana swung the guitar before I could lift my arms or leap away. The hollow instrument hit the side of my right arm, and my elbow bent to take the brunt of it. Wood splintered, and a horrible crashing sound was mixed with the strings that briefly vibrated on impact.

Before I knew it, I was hurtling to my left, arms reaching to grab onto something. I wasn't even aware of the pain in my elbow as I grabbed the back of a chair by the kitchen island. It tipped under my weight, only complicating my fall as I tangled my arm around it.

Tossing the guitar's neck aside, Dana leaped after me, his weight crashing against my body as a fist met my cheekbone.

No, I thought as I realized there was a third voice in the cacophony of misery in the room. Between my grunts and Dana's curses, Carter's pleading voice cut through the air as he grabbed his father's arm. "Stop, Dad. Stop! Don't hurt him."

Dana's broad chest heaved with every breath as he looked furiously from me to his son.

Carter had never looked more beautiful. The defiant way he held his chin high as if he could stand up to Dana, the mournful look in his eyes, the knowledge that everything we'd had was gone… I hated how pretty he was when sadness dominated his face.

He had walked out of the bedroom to stop his father. And my heart discovered new depths to sink into.

If there had been any way to use Dana's overreaction and anger against him, to deny and lie and save Carter from this, it was all gone now. He offered himself to Dana in order to protect me.

That wasn't how it was supposed to be.

He was the beautiful one, the vulnerable one, the one in need of a protector. And I had failed him.