16. Summer

16

SUMMER

T hrowing a piece of croissant at my brother, I'm reminded how Keats has always been the brother who can still alleviate a bad day, even if he has ideas in his head that he will never change his mind about.

His gleaming brown eyes accompanied by his grin cause me to wonder why my handsome brother's parade of women hasn't yet led to finding the one.

But I have a feeling that this breakfast won't be about him for even a second.

My brother winces when the piece of croissant hits his chest. "Chill out, Summer." He smirks as he grabs his cup of coffee. We're sitting by the window of the Dizzy Duck's restaurant for breakfast. I'm not starting work until later, so it's refreshing to just sit here without obligations.

"You asked me how I am again. Not the how am I as in the answer is good, but the how am I, as in am I having a breakdown yet."

Keats gawks his eyes at me. "And? It's not a crime."

I puff out an exhausted breath. "Can we talk about something else? I want to say it's great seeing you, and it's great for Bo, but I'm sure the underlying reason of why you're here will only piss me off again, and my eggs haven't even arrived yet." I rip off another piece of croissant as I sink back in my seat.

"Fine. I needed to use some vacation days."

I snort a laugh. "You don't take vacations and probably already woke at the crack of dawn to work on your laptop."

"Maybe I've changed."

"Doubt it."

He tips his cup in my direction. "Bad cover, huh?"

"Could have thought of a few better reasons."

He sighs and is about to say something, but Jane, our waitress, appears with our plates of eggs and bacon. We both thank her, and when she leaves, Keats seems ready to pick up where he left off.

"I promise I'll focus on Bo talk in a minute, but first, I need to talk about something." He doesn't even look up as he sprinkles pepper on his eggs.

I give up and set my fork on the edge of the plate, shaking my head as I'm defeated. "Say it."

Keats examines me for a few seconds. "Nash," he states simply.

A breath gets trapped in my chest before I let go. "What about him?"

My brother's eyes impale me to let me know that he is serious, with zero ounce of humor about to come my way. "He's more than your house guest."

A weak laugh leaves me. "Of course, he's Bo's uncle."

Keats gives me a pointed look, clearly not believing me. "I'm not blind."

My eyes circle the room, ensuring that nobody is about to hear that my brother is going to tell me his unwelcome wisdom .

"He was just comforting me last night, it happens sometimes." Keats still isn't buying it. "I'm not going to talk about this with you."

"Oh, you are." His tone is firm, and my eyes nearly pop out. "You're vulnerable, and I don't want this to blow up in your face when you process your emotions at a later date."

"You don't get to say what I need to cope," I counter.

Keats throws his napkin onto the table and slides his plate to the side with a jostled sound of his fork before he rests his elbows on the table. "Exactly, I don't. If you would let me finish, then you might also realize that I accept that your current life chapter is up to you about how you want to deal with it."

"Just not with Nash," I bite back.

A smirk begins to stretch on my brother's mouth which surprises me. "To my own disbelief, I'm not saying that."

My neck gooses up, curious what point he is trying to make. "Then what are you saying?"

"I want to say he's taking advantage of your sadness right now, but on this visit to Lake Spark, you seem a tad brighter, and that's new. And…" His tongue glides along his teeth before he scratches his neck, preparing himself to finish the sentence. "I have to find some compassion that he lost someone too, and it seems you are also helping him find his way."

My eyes narrow in on my brother, and my body tenses because this isn't Keats. I'm fairly confident that his coldness toward Nash didn't fade overnight. "Why are you being empathetic?"

He snickers while he quickly glances out the bay window to the calm lake with orange and yellow leaves surrounding the trees that outline the water. Then his sight lands right back on me with a nearly smug look. "The thing is… I've always seen it. Not just now. It's always been there."

My shoulders sag, and I shake my head gently, informing him that I have no clue and am waiting for his explanation.

"You and Zac made sense. But the Nix brothers have always had something in common. Zac and Nash looked at you the same way, madly in love with you." My eyes drop at his admission. "But you only ever had the same look for one of them… Nash."

Snapping up my eyes, I'm surprised by his observation, but internally, I've always felt it. It's just I never expected someone to say it so bluntly.

"Why are you telling me this?"

Keats reaches across the table to touch the top of my hand. "Because I also know that your loss is now turning into turmoil because of that simple fact. You think you're not following the rule book. Too soon, wrong person, not honorable, and all that other shit that gets put in our heads."

My throat tightens by his views because they are spot on. "It's only been a few months and…"

He pats my hand before he returns to sitting up straight. "Trust me." His brows knit together. "That crossed my mind."

"Then imagine what other people might think." The building of frustration and guilt begin to swirl up inside me.

"I'm not here to say that's going to be okay. I can't. However, I do think someone needs to tell you that's it's okay to eventually move on, and maybe that's now or not. Just… you are."

Widening my eyes to keep tears down, I appreciate his encouragement. "I'm not sure what to say. I wasn't expecting the conversation to go this way."

He chuckles and adjusts his plate in front of him. "Trust me, yesterday I wouldn't have expected it either. It's just, you are my kid sister, and whatever sliver it may take to ease your pain, I'll allow it."

I laugh. "Allow it? I swear to God, this whole honorable-brother philosophy that everyone in Lake Spark possesses is making me question the water here."

"So what? It has me sitting in front of you, telling you that you can do all this in your own way. Being sad for life isn't what Zac would have wanted."

A warmth fills my heart because he's right. I just don't remind myself enough.

I pick up my fork and begin to play with my eggs, and I'm going to be honest. "I just don't know how to handle all of this except to say that Nash is helping." A faint smile cracks the lines on my face. "It's crazy. Sometimes I wonder if Zac did all this on purpose. But that would just be… I'm not sure what it would be."

Keats gives me a knowing glare. "Is it far-fetched?"

Hmm, that hypothesis is so obvious, but still, I'm not ready to commit to the theory.

"Can we move on from this conversation? A sunnier topic, perhaps?" I implore.

Keats beams at me. "You've earned that after listening to me."

"Geez, thanks," I state dryly, and it causes him to chuckle.

"I think I'll leave later today. I'll take Bo to the park and then head out. It seems I don't need to stay a few days to babysit you, and you're doing alright. You have someone stepping in for me."

A warm wry smile naturally appears. "I think so, too."

"Good. Because Bo spit up on my expensive shirt, and I'm not sure I'm in the mood for a repeat and a need to replace my wardrobe," he jokes.

Now comfortable, I get to work on my plate of food. " Please, oh please," I beg with my hands in prayer, "let me find you a girlfriend. Maybe on one of those apps or see if taking out a newspaper ad will help. One day you might have a child, and then you'll never care about any shirt, you'll see. And if kids aren't for you, then at least you'll have a relationship, and I don't need to learn a new name."

"Watch it there. I can rewind this entire breakfast if you feel like you want to take us back to an uncomfortable discussion," he teases.

I ruefully shake my head. "Shut up and pass me the salt."

I've been lucky. The past few days between Nash and my brother, I've been distracted, as if life is almost whole again. That's a promising start.

Over the remainder of our breakfast, we change topics to his work and our holiday schedules to puzzle a time to get together. It's only when Nash slowly strolls into the dining room, eyeing us, unsure of the atmosphere, that I'm reminded I need to work soon.

"Hey," I greet him.

"I was with Stone, checking on something for the Dizzy Duck, and thought I would stop by." Nash stares at Keats with caution which now nearly makes me laugh.

It's only a solid ten seconds of silence before my brother pulls out his chair and stands. "Well, I think I need to get a move on. Just let the babysitter know I'm stopping by to hang with my nephew for an hour."

I stand too and nervously play with my hair. "Of course."

Keats and Nash give one another a nod, and when my brother offers his hand to Nash, confusion floods Nash's face, but he reluctantly shakes his hand. A strong shake, a shake of truce, and it's kind of touching.

"Take care of her," my brother warns Nash.

"You don't need to tell me," Nash reminds him softly .

" And that's my cue to break up this little strange initiation." I do my best to use a cheerful tone.

Their hands drop, and my brother gives me one last knowing smile before stepping to me for a quick hug. "Remember what I said," he whispers.

I nod in understanding.

Nash observes from the sidelines as my brother walks away. We both watch Keats's every step until he vanishes.

"What the fuck was that? Did I miss the apocalypse?" Nash is mesmerized after the last minute, then he directs his stare to me.

"My brother just gave me a little insight." I hope that my lack of a frown eases Nash, especially when I touch his arm. "Maybe later we can talk? I need to check in with the event planner for someone's wedding this weekend."

His hand mirrors my gesture and grazes my arm for a quick touch. "Of course. You're all good?"

My smile is authentic with no need to cover my internal demons. "I think so."

Leaning against the kitchen counter with a glass of wine in hand, my eyes follow Nash's path as he enters the room and heads straight to the fridge. He put Bo to bed tonight.

"Have I mentioned lately that your baby-whisperer skills have been upgraded to an eight?"

Nash peeks out from around the open fridge door. "Oh yeah?" He's proud.

"Uh-oh, I just boosted your self-image."

He closes the door with a beer bottle in his hand, then he slides the bottle opener that was lying on the counter off, snaps the cap, and throws the cap somewhere near the sink, which he most definitely will be picking up later. Arriving next to me, he joins in leaning over the counter and looking in the same direction toward the wall where a picture of me hangs, taken one fall day. It was spontaneous, but I think the way the light catches my eyes and glimmers on my skin makes me confidently beautiful.

Somehow, similar to many family photos in this house, everything became part of the background, and I forget to look. Today, the remnants of other times give me a few moments of self-reflection for my body to relax.

"We never got to talk about your brother. Is he always so brazen or just when I'm around?"

I grin as I nudge Nash's shoulder with mine. "Actually, he gave me a little perspective, and no, he took you off his list of who to hunt down. Not sure he was praising your graces, but it was close enough."

"Really?"

I nod once. "He knows about us. Or at least, his own notion of us. To my surprise, we talked, and he gave me a little hope that I don't need to feel so guilty as long as this is right."

Nash's eyes nearly bug out when I side-eye him. "And do you believe in what you just said?"

The balls of my bare feet turn on the smooth wood to rest my back against the counter. "Maybe a tiny bit."

Nash moves to stand in front of me with my legs between his as we stand, and both of his hands rest on the counter to frame my hips, giving me a chance to leave. But I don't want to. The heat between us and the subtle hint of a cardamom-pine cologne hits my senses.

"I'm happy if his unexpected visit gave you a little peace of mind."

My lips quirk out, and my fingers find his shirt to play with. "I think I'm going to let go of a little guilt. Otherwise, it only prolongs the sorrow, doesn't it?"

Nash releases one of his hands and runs his long finger along my cheek. "I believe so."

"I can breathe a little more easily after talking to him. I thought he would judge me, and maybe he was, but in the end, he made me feel that I'm finding my own way, and I shouldn't be scared about others' expectations of what I should feel."

"Summer, it's true."

Collecting his finger in my hand, I bring it up to my lips for a soft kiss. "It's still not entirely clear what we're doing, Nash. But I'm choosing to go to sleep with a little less remorse, and that already lifts me a little more."

Something I say sets him off because he scoops my head into his hands at record speed, and his mouth lowers to capture my lips in a firm kiss filled with reverence. "I needed to hear you say that." Nash kisses my forehead then pulls me in tight to his chest.

My mouth tugs as it seems we are standing in the same place and not just literally.

I pull away, and our eyes dance in recognition of where we are in life. There is a glint in Nash's eyes that holds me. I can't tear away from them, even when he hoists me up onto the kitchen counter with clear purpose for what he wants.

"Summer," he rasps.

I press my finger against his lips. "Shh."

The corner of his mouth hitches up before he continues his journey, leading me to lie on my back as his mouth travels down my body, stopping just above that sensitive spot. Instead, he kisses my belly and then again.

"Screw my shh plea, I need to tell you that doing this on the kitchen counter is wildly inappropriate considering there are baby bottles and cereal crumbs scattered around the counter," I joke to break our moment into bliss.

"Tsk, tsk," Nash tuts. "All the more incentive to take this wildly inappropriateness onto the floor." In a flash, he picks me up, and we fall to the floor, and I giggle as we stumble. But he wastes no time and gets me on my back with his teeth dragging my shirt up, tugging a few times, his stubbled jaw rubbing against my skin and causing a sensitive ripple in my body.

I moan purely from watching him and his persistence. He must notice. "You might have back pain tomorrow. I need to keep you on the floor for a while so I can go slow and take you the way you deserve since you've knocked down a brick or two."

As tempting as that is… I push him off me, and he sinks to sitting with his back to the cupboard door. I end up in his lap with my legs around him. "That's only if you manage to get me off of you," I challenge him, and I sweep my shirt up and off.

This is a mixture of fun and passion that continues to grow between us. There is a reason I don't look at the pictures around the house anymore.

Because Nash re-entered my life, causing me to be blinded of the border between past and present.