Chapter 3

3

Natalie – Twenty-Two Years Old – One Year Later

I smile at Duncan, handing him his lunchbox before he takes my hand and allows me to guide him through the security-locked door that Marcus, the guard, unlocks and opens for us.

Duncan’s mom instantly grins when she sees him, and he lets go of my hand and runs over to her. She catches the beautiful, dark-haired three-year-old, and swings him around, causing him to giggle before she waves at me. I wave back, and watch them leave. I sigh, knowing I need to clean up the paint supplies before I can go.

“Clock off time?” Marcus asks, and I snort, raising a brow at him.

“After all the painting I did this afternoon?”

He winces, his dark gray eyes looking my way sympathetically, but the twinkle in them gives away his true feelings.

He thinks it’s funny.

I stick my tongue out at him, making him laugh, and he lets me back inside the building.

I’ve been working weekends at Cora’s Day Care Center for about a year and a half now. I also work part-time at the diner in the evenings after class.

I’m burnt out, I know it, but I only have a year left before I graduate. Hopefully, I can get a decent full-time job at a school, and buy a nice small house, or at least rent one.

I head to the room I was assigned, where I watch five three-year-olds, and wince at the paint on the tables, floor, and chairs.

Okay, so maybe I should stick to Play-Doh next time.

Groaning, I go to the supply closet and grab the mop.

I have thirty minutes before I have to meet Piston for our last meet-up. He graduated today and plans to celebrate tonight with his brothers, but wants one last hurrah…or a goodbye?

Yeah, no, one last screw, basically.

Three years ago, we agreed that we can’t continue messing around after he leaves school, and I still agree. Relationships aren’t something I want.

I mean, who wants to watch the person they love cheat, treat you like crap, or choose you over their kid…. Projecting my fears onto relationships? Maybe, but I don’t care. I just wish I had never fallen in love with Piston; then, today would be easier.

I always believed love was a load of crap, but the more time I spent with Piston, the harder I fell. Being away from him makes it hard to breathe, and when we’re together, I feel at home, and have to have my hands on him.

For a long time, I didn’t understand my feelings or why my heart would race when he’d message me or show up at my door.

When I opened up to Honey, she explained it, and I freaked out.

That week, I told Piston I was ill…until he showed up and screwed me into oblivion, and I caved. I fell, and I fell hard, but today…today we say goodbye to each other, and my heart already feels heavy.

Pushing the feeling aside, knowing this is the right thing to do, to end things before we get too deep or, well, any deeper for me, anyway, I begin to clean the room, trying to keep my mind occupied.

I really shouldn’t have brought out the paint….

I’ve just wiped off the last bit of paint when my phone vibrates on my desk. I sigh, thinking maybe Piston has decided to cancel, which wouldn’t really surprise me, to be honest.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I slink over to my desk and grab it, only to scowl.

Unknown: You can’t keep ignoring my messages, Natalie. Call me…. It’s Dad, by the way.

I snort.

Who else would message me on an unknown number? Oh, right, Chris, my cheating, disgusting ex, calls and texts me from his friends’ phones.

Over three years later, he’s still trying to speak to me. Only yesterday, he cornered me outside of the English building, and that was only a coincidence. He was busy trying to flirt with some poor, unsuspecting soul, and I didn’t turn around quick enough before he saw me.

Jackass walked away from her without looking back….

Shaking off the past, I lock my phone, ignoring the text, and grab my bag. I take a moment to look around the room, ensuring I switched everything off.

With a nod, I leave the room, locking the door behind me.

For over three years, I’ve only had one phone call from my father, and that was it; it was the day Piston found me crying in my dorm.

Dad, no, Henry never even asked how I settled into school life or sent me an “Are you okay?” message. I heard nothing, only for him to call and shout at me for, apparently, threatening to hurt his wife.

She was hoping I’d delete the video I had of her and Chris, and tried to manipulate Henry, stating I recorded her pleasuring herself, and was going to upload it.

God, he even threatened to take legal action, and stated I wasn’t his daughter any longer, and wanted nothing to do with me. Until last week, when he showed up at the diner where I work with the step-monster in tow, demanding I take little brother in for the week so he can take Christy away to Europe.

“He’s your brother, Natalie. The least you can do is finally be the big sister you were supposed to be to him,” my father snaps, and I outright laugh, shaking my head.

Sneering, I remind him, “Funny, because I wasn’t even allowed to hold him after he was born ‘Dad.’” He swallows hard, his blue eyes widening a little. I scoff, “What, you’re suddenly forgotten all the threats you gave me if you saw me near him, because you didn’t want my birth mother’s filth on him?” He looks down in shame. Still, I’m not done. “Or how about when Christy answered her phone to talk to her friend and was gone for over two hours, leaving Cooper unattended, and you walked in to find me trying to keep him entertained?” I take a menacing step forward. “Remember what you did ‘Dad’, what you said to me?”

“Natalie, I—” he tries, but I cut him off.

I snap, “No. You said my filth wasn’t welcome near your child, then you slapped your own daughter!”

“I made a mistake, Natalie—” he tries again.

“A mistake….” I chuckle darkly, “How about you not being there when I graduated high school with honors, or when I left for college? Were they also mistakes?” I direct a raised brow at a smug Christy, who instantly pales at the mention the day I moved out. I look back at my so-called father. “Or how about the fact I’ve only heard from you once since you banned me from yours and Christy's home. I don’t know if your keeping tabs, ‘Dad,’ but that was three years ago.” I shake my head, taking a step back. “You’re only here because your wife wants what she wants, and you have a troubled child on your hands, who’s most likely acting out from the lack of parenting from his so-called mother, while you work twenty-four seven.”

I turn to leave, but Dad speaks up again, “I’m still your father, Natalie, he’s still your brother.”

I stop, keeping my back to him, and remind him, “Funny, because you’re the one who stated I was no longer your daughter, and you’re the one who threatened to take legal action against something I never even did. I refuse to allow you to use me.” I turn my head and look at step-monster, and demand, “Get the hell out of my workplace, and take that man with you, before I get my phone out and show him the truth, because I can guarantee you will lose everything.”

Her eyes widen and she grabs my dad’s arm. He starts snapping at her, demanding to know what I meant, but I ignore them, grabbing the coffee pot to do a round of refills.

I refuse to entertain them any longer.

Since then, he’s tried contacting me several times, but I’ve ignored him.

My boss at the diner agreed that he wasn’t welcome after the second attempt he made to see me, and now he’s resorted to contacting me on unknown numbers.

Lucky me….

I don’t know why he wants to get a hold of me so badly, and I don’t care. I won’t let him use me, even for my brother, a brother I have no connection or bond with. I bet Cooper wouldn’t even recognize me if he saw me.

Trying to put my past behind me, I walk out of the building as Marcus unlocks the door.

“See you next weekend, Nat,” he says, and I smile at him.

“Have a good week, Marcus. Give my love to Mabel,” I reply, then rummage through my bag for my keys.

I mumble to myself, “Where are you…” trying to find my car keys. When my finger loops through the key chain, I blurt, “Gotcha!" before bumping into the light pole near my car.

“Ouch,” I mutter, rubbing my leg.

I hear a chuckle.

My head snaps up, and I lock eyes with dark green ones. My stomach flutters instantly as Piston leans against his black Harley in simple jeans and a tee, his cut covering it.

“You know, over the past three years, I’ve noticed something about you,” he says, and I raise a brow as I walk toward him. When we’re close, he grips my hips and pulls me into him, my hands going to his chest. He continues, “Fuck, you are one clumsy woman….”

I groan, dropping my forehead to his chest as it rumbles with his laughter.

“If you think that was bad, not only did I allow three-year-olds to paint, which I really don’t recommend, but I kicked the mop bucket over, and then slipped and fell on my ass,” I admit, my side still a little sore.

He laughs harder, holding me tighter, and I sigh in contentment at having his arms around me. I place my ear over his heart, and its beat soothes me.

“Happy graduation day, Piston,” I mumble, and he sighs, his laughter dying, his arms tightening around me as he breathes deep, his head leaning against mine.

“Thanks, Diamond,” he rasps back, and I move back a little, looking at him. He gives me a sad smile, the only indication that he’s going to miss me, before his lips touch mine in a sweet, caressing kiss.

My eyes burn against the building tears, but I will them away, and move out of his hold, smiling a little as I whisper, “Follow me?”

He smiles back, his left dimple popping out, and he nods, pushing off his bike and climbing on. I take him in, ensuring to remember this, remember him. I take a photo before I turn around and unlock my car. I throw my bag on the passenger seat before climbing in, my eyes going back to Piston, who tilts his head, smirking.

I smile, then start my car before pulling out of my space, and heading to my apartment. I continuously check the mirror, needing to commit Piston to memory before he disappears from my life.

I slowly open my eyes as emptiness fills me, waking me. Darkness still cascades outside, but I instantly know he’s gone.

I turn, my hand going to the side of the bed he dubbed his, the sheets cold, and the first tear falls, then the second, before full-blown sobs wrack my body. I grab his pillow, holding it tight, pressing my face against it, inhaling his musky scent.

This was for the best, I know it was, but it doesn’t make it any easier….