32. Chapter Thirty-Two Nathan

Chapter Thirty-Two: Nathan

Sunlight filtered in through the blinds, casting a muted glow across the room. I blinked away the remnants of sleep, my arm draped over Abby's waist, her head resting against my chest. The steady rise and fall of her breathing, the warmth of her skin against mine—it was as if everything outside this moment had ceased to exist.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the knots in my stomach loosened, the weight on my shoulders lifted. We were together, really together—engaged, with no more secrets or half-truths hovering between us. It was as though we'd stepped out of a long, tumultuous storm into a rare, tranquil clearing.

Careful not to disturb her, I shifted, feeling the brush of her hair against my skin. She murmured something inaudible and nuzzled closer in her sleep. With a tenderness that surprised even me, I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

Her presence, the quiet assurance of her love…it grounded me in ways I hadn't known I needed.

I slid out from under the covers with a cautious grace, putting distance between us for the first time since last night's confessions. Every muscle moved with deliberate silence, an expertise honed by years of necessity. This morning couldn't be spoiled—not by old ghosts, not by lingering shadows from my past life.

Abby deserved this peace, however fleeting.

Easing my feet onto the cool hardwood floor, I stood and glanced back at her. She was still lost in slumber, a serene expression on her face. I couldn't help but linger for just a second longer, savoring the sight of her so relaxed, so unburdened. Then, with one last look, I made my way out of the bedroom, leaving her to rest.

Descending the stairs with practiced quiet, I found myself enveloped by the early morning stillness of our home. Every step I took was a deliberate move away from the chaos that had once defined my life. The shadows clung to the corners of the living room, but they didn't hold any power over me—not anymore.

I reached the kitchen, switched on the overhead light, and the soft glow pushed back the remnants of darkness. The familiar ritual of making coffee began—filling the pot with water, measuring out the grounds. The scent of the beans was rich and promising, a stark difference from the acrid burn of gunpowder and fear that had once filled my mornings.

As the coffee maker gurgled to life, I leaned against the counter, allowing myself a moment to reflect. This was different. So very different from the day Tyler Matthews' life ended at my hands. That blood-stained dawn had been a turning point, one that had almost cost me everything.

But not today.

Today, there was no looking over my shoulder, no calculating risks and exits. Today, it was just Abby and me, and the simple, domestic act of brewing coffee. A symbol of normalcy, of a future we were daring to build together, despite the odds stacked against us.

A smile tugged at my lips. We'd come so far, her and I. Last night, I'd laid bare the darkest parts of my soul, expecting revulsion or fear. But in Abby's eyes, I'd seen only understanding and acceptance.

For the first time, I felt truly known.

The machine beeped, signaling the coffee was ready. Pouring two cups, I let the warmth seep into my palms. Abby would be waking soon, and I wanted this—just a few moments of peace with her before the rest of the world clawed its way in.

The shrill ring of my phone shattered the serenity, a harsh reminder that peace was fleeting. With a sigh, I set down the coffee cup and fished the phone from my pocket. Unknown number. My heart kicked against my chest—this could be Triad business or another threat.

"Hello?" I answered, my voice steady despite the racing pulse.

Silence greeted me on the other end, thick and waiting. "Who is this?" I demanded, my patience fraying. The last thing I needed was some cryptic bullshit so early in the morning.

A pause lingered before a voice broke through, barely above a whisper, one I hadn't heard in far too long.

"Hey, big brother."

Blood roared in my ears as Alex's voice, strained and weary, filled the silence between us. "Are you somewhere secure?" I found myself asking, my voice a mix of concern and bitterness. After all, if he wasn't safe, neither were we.

"Yeah, for now," Alex responded, his tone guarded.

"Good." My words were clipped, the tension between duty and anger pulling taut. "I'm not going to ask where you are. I don't want to know."

"Understood." There was a brief silence, as if he was digesting the distance in my tone. "Then what do you want, Nathan?"

I took in a deep breath, steadying myself against the counter. "I don't believe you were behind the bombings," I said, the words feeling heavy yet necessary. "That's not you."

There was an audible exhale from his end, a sound of relief—or maybe just exhaustion. "You should have known that," Alex retorted, his voice firm, "that's exactly what I told you."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes momentarily. Apologizing had never been my strong suit, but this required swallowing my pride. "I'm sorry, Alex," I said, and I could almost feel the shock through the phone line. "I want to make this right. I want to pull the family back together."

Silence hung between us for a heartbeat, and I could picture Alex's disbelief, could sense his skepticism even across the wires.

An apology from me was as foreign to him as trusting blindly was to me.

His laugh came through bitter and hollow, the sound grating against my resolve. "Pull the family back together?" he scoffed. "You think it's that simple? Our father's already got a target on my back, Nathan. You can't just undo that kind of damage."

"Maybe we can," I countered, refusing to let the resignation in his voice seep into the space around me. "If we sniff out the rat—the one who really set the bombs—we might have a chance."

"Sniff out the rat?" He echoed, skepticism dripping from every syllable. "And how do you propose we do that?"

"Have you got any ideas?"

"Look, I'm as clueless as everyone else," Alex admitted with a frustrated sigh that stretched through the line. "Neon and Javi have been on it since day one, digging deep, but every lead's turned to dust. Dead ends, every single time."

"Alright, I'm looking into it on my end too," I reassured him, though what I really wanted was to grab someone by the throat and shake the truth out of them. There was something I needed to ask, a suspicion that gnawed at me like a rat with a wire. "Alex, did you ever see Knuckles meeting with the Lins when all this first started going down? Before everything blew up?"

On the other end of the line, there was a momentary pause—a hesitation that told me the question wasn't one he'd expected. "Knuckles?" he finally said, his voice tinged with surprise. "No, never caught sight of that. You think he's involved?"

"I don't know," I sighed, pinching the space between my eyes closed for a second. "But I can't shake off this feeling. Something about how all this played out doesn't sit right with me."

"Knuckles has always been rock solid," Alex responded slowly, considering the implications. "Loyal to the core. But then again," he added with a tone that suggested a shrug, "these days, who knows?"

"Yeah, loyal," I echoed, though the word felt heavy on my tongue. "Loyal" used to mean something unbreakable among us, but now it was just another word, fraying at the edges.

"Look, Nate," Alex continued, a weariness seeping into his voice, "I've been in the shadows since this all went down. Same as you, I want to get to the bottom of this, but I'm just as blind here."

"Stay that way for now," I advised him. "We should try to keep this short, but we'll talk soon. How can I reach you?"

There was a pause before he replied. "I'm sending you a burner email. Check your phone."

"Got it," I murmured as my phone buzzed with the incoming message.

"Later, Nate." And with that simple goodbye, the line went dead.

I stood there for a beat longer, the phone's weight in my hand suddenly magnified. The quiet of the morning seemed to press in on me, the gravity of our conversation settling deep within my chest.

That's when I heard the soft creak of the stairs and turned to see Abby descending, her hair tousled from sleep, a sense of serenity wrapping around her like a blanket I longed to crawl under.

We were supposed to have this day just for us…but reality was already creeping back in.

"Who was that?" she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

"Alex," I replied, locking the phone and slipping it into my pocket. There was no mistaking the flash of concern that crossed her face, but she masked it quickly with a small, supportive smile.

"He's safe?" The question wasn't just about the call; it was about him, us, the whole tangled mess that seemed to follow our every step.

I nodded, ushering her toward the kitchen where the aroma of coffee promised a semblance of normalcy. "Let's catch up over a cup."

Sitting at the kitchen island, mugs cradled in our hands, I filled her in on the call with Alex. Her brow furrowed as she digested the news, the engagement ring catching the early morning light and throwing prisms across the walls.

"Definitely something we'll have to look into," she said after a moment, her mind already racing with the implications.

There was a pause as I watched her, admiring her strength and resilience. It was one of the countless things that had drawn me to her, kept me anchored in the storm that was my life.

"Abby, there's something else," I ventured, hesitating for just a second. "I want to tell your dad about us, about the engagement. I didn't get a chance to do it the traditional way, to ask for his blessing before I asked you."

She considered this, her lips curving into a half-smile. "I'd like that."

"Thanks," I said, relief flooding through me. But before I could savor the moment, she added, "On one condition."

"Anything," I replied earnestly.

"Let me break the news to your family. Let's invite your siblings over for dinner and tell them together." Her eyes were alight with excitement, and there was an undercurrent of mischief in her voice that intrigued me.

"Deal," I agreed, feeling a warmth spread through my chest that had nothing to do with the coffee. "That sounds perfect."

As she leaned in across the counter, her hand reaching for mine, I couldn't help but think that despite the chaos of our lives, this—right here with Abby—was the one thing I knew I had right.