Chapter 4

4

Nathan

"No." I raise my hand. "No, that’s not what I meant."

And no, her calling me Daddy did not pump blood to my groin and turn my cock erect. Jesus, man, what’s wrong with you? You need to get a grip on your emotions and control this interaction right now.

"Skye, listen to me," I take a step forward, then stop. I can’t get too close to her. If I do, there’s no telling what I might end up doing. I’m used to being in command of my emotions. Used to locking them away and focusing on the task at hand, which is how I’ve fulfilled my missions successfully. But a few minutes with Skye and my willpower has crumbled. I curl my fingers into fists at my sides so I don’t reach for her. I also don’t want to hurt her. She’s so young and impressionable. I don’t want to leave her with any kind of abandonment issues rising from what I’m going to tell her. I need to choose my words carefully. I roll my shoulders to shake out the tension coiled there. "I’m sorry I said that, truly."

She huffs. The hurt in her eyes squeezes my stomach in a way that that makes me feel breathless. Damn. Between the pinch in my middle, and the heavy weight in my balls, I’m distinctly uncomfortable. I squeeze the bridge of my nose, then lower my hand.

"It’s…normal to be attracted to someone older than you, and that does not mean you have a Daddy complex."

"You realize, you’re only making it worse, right?" She backs away, then jumps down onto the floor on the opposite side of the bed from me. She’s put more distance between us, which is what I wanted. So why do I have such misgivings about it?

She folds her arms across her chest, the gesture defensive. It pushes her breasts up, and I fight to keep my gaze on her face. Get a grip, man! Her expression is a mix of hurt and anger. And confusion. Her gaze is innocent, but the curves of her body are a siren call. Damn, this contradiction about her is doing my head in. "I’m sorry, that came out wrong again. I don’t have much experience in talking to?—"

"Girls much younger than you?" she says sharply.

"I was going to say beautiful women who know their minds and have a backbone."

"Oh." The pink in her cheeks, and the way she lowers her eyelids tells me she’s embarrassed. Her chest heaves, and I lower my gaze to it, then manage to look away before I’m caught staring. What is wrong with me? I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous.

Ask me to address my platoon and get their arses in gear, and I have no problems. But trying to speak to this gorgeous eighteen-year-old so that I don’t break her heart is far more challenging. I force myself to uncurl my fingers and rub my sweaty palms over my pants.

"It’s normal to feel everything so intensely. Normal to feel that your world will end if the man you have feelings for doesn’t reciprocate them."

Her shoulders droop. "You don’t have feelings for me. You’re trying to let me down lightly, is that what this is about?" Her lips turn down, and the gleam of moisture in her eyes tells me she’s close to tears.

Bloody hell, why is this so difficult? Also, I can’t stand to see her crying. I can’t.

"Skye, please listen to me." I grab the back of my neck and fight for composure. "You’ve seen me around with Ben. Which is why you trust me. You believe you’ll be safe with me."

"I do." She nods. "In fact, I know I’ll be safe with you."

"And that’s because I’m familiar to you."

"You are, of course," she agrees.

"But there’ll be others closer to you in age with whom you’ll also feel safe."

She sets her jaw. "No, I won’t." The stubborn jut of her gorgeous lower lip draws my attention to her beautiful mouth, and I admonish myself. You need to look past this illogical draw toward her. You need to...find a way to get her to move past you. And telling her she doesn’t feel the way she clearly does is not going to help. So, I change my tack.

"Assume, for a second, that I do reciprocate your feelings."

Her expression turns hopeful. "So, you do reciprocate my feelings."

"That’s not what I mean," I say in frustration. Or is it? Jesus, is this woman running circles around me or what?

"So, you don’t…feel the same way?" Her eyebrows draw down. "I’m a big girl, Nathan. You can tell me. I can take it, you know."

Her chin wobbles, and she spoils the impact of her words.

Damn, I can’t bring myself to hurt her. But I also can’t let her continue to believe there could be a future for us, no matter how much I want there to be one. She needs to understand that she’s my best friend’s little sister, and I’d never break the trust he’s placed in me. No matter what I say, it seems to make things worse. So, how am I going to extricate myself from this quandary of my own making?

That’s when the door to her bedroom is pushed open. Ben pops his head around the doorjamb. "Skylar what are you doing hiding in your bedroom? And Nathan"—he turns to me—"I could do with your help setting up the snacks."

**

"There you go; enjoy." I pour non-alcoholic wine into a red solo cup and slide it across the table masquerading as a mock bar counter. Strictly speaking, there’s no need for Ben or me to be here as bartenders, since there’s no alcohol at this party. Eighteen is the drinking age in England, but because Skylar herself doesn’t drink, nor do many of her friends, she wanted to serve only non-alcoholic drinks at her party.

She asked for a pretend bar, complete with mocktails, zero-alcohol beer, and no-alcohol wine, and Ben obliged. He also agreed to bartend, mainly so he had an excuse to be there without seeming like a parent hovering around the periphery. This way, he can interact with Skylar’s friends, and he really seems to be enjoying himself. When he asked me to help, I thought, why the hell not? So, here I am. And I’m not quite sure how I feel about that.

"Thank you." The girl who’s wearing heavy eyeliner with fake diamond-encrusted eyelashes flutters them at me.

"You’re welcome."

She sips from her glass and eyes me over the rim. "You’re Skylar’s brother’s friend?"

I nod.

"You’re a Marine?"

I nod again.

"Oh cool." She takes another sip then lowers the glass. "Have you like, killed people?"

I stiffen, then remind myself it’s an innocent question. "I do what’s needed in the line of duty."

"Meena," someone yells from the make-shift dance floor that’s been set up in the middle of the living room floor. Ben and I pushed aside the furniture, and he rigged a few LED par cans that emit lights in different colors across the space. With the lights switched off and a fog effect from the machine in the corner, the place has been transformed.

"Oh, gotta go. Thanks for your service and all that."

I nod, acknowledging the sentiment behind the words, even if they are delivered in a tongue-in-cheek fashion.

The girl turns and saunters over to join her friend, who’s dancing in the center of the floor along with Skylar.

Meena leans in and whispers something in her friend’s ear. All three of them look at me, then back at one another, and burst out laughing. These girls. I shake my head. They’re clearly gossiping about me, and I have to admit, it’s a little annoying knowing I’m the source of amusement.

"Seems like a success, hmm?" Ben walks over to join me.

"You’re the one who’s been a hit with them." I’m referring to the fact that the boys keep cornering him to talk to him about his career in the Marines.

"Might have something to do with the fact you’ve been glowering at whoever tries to strike up a conversation with you."

"I was born this way," I grouse.

Ben laughs. "You’ve been very patient, so far. Thanks for your help."

I shake my head. "You’re the one who set all this up; I didn’t do anything." I take in the book-themed snacks that crowd the table next to the makeshift bar. Ben specifically ordered them for Skylar. Everything from Harry Potter Butterbeer cupcakes, to Hunger Games Mockingjay cookies, to Alice in Wonderland tea sandwiches, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory candy bars, and The Great Gatsby -inspired macarons. I heard him mention how much of a fan she is of Harry Potter . The rest, I assume, are her favorites, too.

Then, there's an array of mocktails on offer. They include a Tea Party punch made of iced tea with lemonade, a splash of raspberry syrup, and garnished with edible flowers—hugely in demand. Also, one called Draco’s Breath, inspired by some kind of Harry Potter fan fiction called Manacled. It’s a blend of lemonade with blue raspberry syrup, topped with a sprinkling of chili powder and poured over crushed ice. Ben showed me how to mix them, and I’ve been busy setting them up, along with the non-alcoholic beers and wines. The level of detail and thinking he’s put into the party is amazing.

"You’re an amazing brother." I take in the happy faces of those on the dance floor.

"She’s an amazing sister," he says in a soft voice. "When she was born, Mom put her in my arms and told me I was to take care of her, always."

"And you’ve been doing it ever since. "

He nods. "My father passed when Skye was ten. I was already in the Marines then, and thankfully, earned enough to help out.”

"That’s when you took a leave of absence to help them adjust to life without your dad?” I recall.

Ben nods. The look in his eyes grows thoughtful. "I feel responsible for Skye. I’m very aware that I’m the only father figure she has, and it’s my duty to take care of her and keep her happy.”

I follow his gaze to where Skylar throws back her head and laughs. She’s holding hands with one of the girls and a guy on the other side. I tense, then force myself to relax. These are her friends. And Ben and I are here to make sure nothing untoward happens.

"Mom wanted to help with the party, but Skye and I insisted she take the evening off and go visit her friend. And she was instructed to stay overnight so that we'll have the place cleaned up by the time she returns. When she realized you and I would be around to keep an eye on things, she gratefully accepted. Of course, she did insist on baking a birthday cake for Skylar." Ben laughs.

A cake in the shape of—surprise—an open book is decorated with chocolate and strawberries, which are Skylar’s favorites. I store away that piece of information, as I've been doing with all the details about Skylar that have come my way today. Only because she’s Ben’s sister, and because I care about her too. And because I want to see her happy. That’s all. That’s the only reason I’ve been gathering this knowledge about what she likes. It’s not like I can do something with it anyway because… She’s Ben’s sister. If I say that often enough, perhaps, I’ll remember it too?

I take in the smile on Ben’s face and the delight on Skylar’s. This house, filled with so much joy and laughter, once again, strikes me by how different it was for me. My relationship—if you can call it that—that I had with my mother when she was alive was so different. She spent most days too depressed to get out of bed. And when she wasn’t, she was too busy berating my father and his family for not wanting to have anything to do with her. Only saving grace, my grandmother paid her off, so we had enough to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table.

Another yell from the dance floor draws my attention back to the present. Ben’s put together a playlist of Skylar’s favorite songs which he’s playing over the speakers. It’s an eclectic mix of eighties dance music, and the ones I don’t recognize, I assume, are the latest viral hits.

"These kids are well behaved." I nod in the direction of the group of guys and girls who are dancing in an amorphous circle. Thankfully, there are no couples breaking off to dance…yet. All in all, I'm impressed at how disciplined they are.

"You sound bemused." He chuckles.

"You know the trouble I got up to when I was their age." My mother was never able to discipline me. Probably because I was more of a parent in the relationship. I was the one who cooked food for us. The one who cleaned up after she drank so much, she started puking. My only outlet was to pick fights—first in school, and then with the local gangs. I gained a reputation for using my fists very quickly.

“If it weren't for the Marines and the discipline that comes with that, I might have landed in the justice system.” I was lucky not to have any encounters with juvenile detention.

My mother wasn’t married to my father when she became pregnant, and my father was too scared of my grandfather to tell him he’d gotten her pregnant because he was engaged to marry someone else—someone from the right bloodline. My grandmother paid off my mother to leave and never be seen again. It meant my mother and I never lacked money, but emotionally, my ma checked out very early. You could say, I brought myself up.

Thankfully, I was intelligent enough to start investing by the time I was eighteen. I started making enough money to take care of myself and my mother. Then my mother died. By the time Arthur reached out to me, I was already in the Marines. Thanks to my investments, I was also on my way to being independently wealthy. Which means I’m not reliant on Arthur, and that’s the way I want it to stay.

Arthur wants to introduce me to my half-brothers, and while I am happy to have found my blood family, my platoon, my brothers- in-arms, will always come first. They were there for me when no-one else was.

My grandfather also wants me to join, as CEO of one of the Davenport group companies. When I turned it down, he was gracious, much to my surprise. He said when I was ready, the title and position would be waiting for me.

Meanwhile, he asked me to, at least, attend the weekly lunches at his place whenever I'm in town. That way, I could meet my half-brothers and stay in touch with them. I wanted to turn him down. But curiosity and, I’ll admit, a need to find out more about my family coerced me into making an appearance. That’s where I was earlier today.

The first time I met them, my half-brothers welcomed me. And when I found out that, like me, many of them were also Marines, the bond was instantaneous. They're good people… Unlike my grandfather. I've stayed in touch with my half-brothers and consider them friends and yes, also family. We may not be as close-knit as Ben and his sister and mother, but it does fulfill some need for belonging in me.

"You turned out okay." Ben claps me on the shoulder. "You’re my buddy, and you’ve been in my corner through some hairy stuff. You’re my brother-in-arms. There’s no one else I’d rather go on a mission with than you. I know you have my back."

"Always." I squeeze his arm and we half-hug. There’s no awkwardness between us. We’ve been in too many life and death situations for any kind of self-consciousness. He’s closer to me than my half-brothers. The brother of my heart. He and Skylar and their mother are my made family.

All the more reason I can’t let him down. I can’t allow myself to be drawn to Skylar. I have to ignore my attraction to her. I have to pretend I don’t sense how she’s, even now, watching me from under lowered eyelids on the dance floor. How, through the evening, our gazes have been meeting; and each time, my blood has heated. I snatch a can of non-alcoholic beer and chug it down, wishing it were the real thing, then crush the empty can and toss it into the recycling bin .

When I look up, Ben has been pulled into discussion by two gangly adolescents who’re almost as tall as him but have not yet grown into their bodies. Not long ago, we were much like them. And now, we’re in our early thirties. Damn, how did that happen?

The song over the speakers changes into something slower. I can’t recognize it, but the words are soppily romantic. On the floor, the boys and girls pair up. There are more girls than boys, and those left out dance with each other.

Skylar’s dancing with a boy who looms over her. He’s also the only boy who seems to have been working out. She smiles up at him, and my heart seizes in my ribcage. And when he slips his hands from her shoulders to her waist, the beer I sucked down sloshes in my stomach. This…weird stabbing sensation in my chest… Is it jealousy? What the fuck? She’s with someone her own age. Someone who’s much more appropriate for her. So why am I this perturbed?

I take a step forward in their direction—and stop myself.

What are you going to do, huh? Go up there and push the boy away from her and take his place? Yes. Yes. That’s what I want to do. But I won’t. It’s wrong. And I will never betray Ben in that way.

I spin around and, brushing past Ben and the boys he’s deep in conversation with, I head out into the garden. I walk to the very edge and lean against the fence that separates it from the next house. I pull out my cigarette. I quit a year ago and took to carrying a cigarette with me because knowing I had one at hand helped me control my urge to smoke. Go figure.

With her, though… I cannot allow myself to be near her. The reverse psychology is not going to work with what I feel for her. I’m going to have to put distance between us. After today, I’m going to make sure I stay away from her. No more coming to visit Ben at his home in between missions. I need to focus on my own family—my half-brothers who’ve made it clear they want to know me better.

I pull out my lighter and allow the flame to lick the edge of the cigarette, when, "Nathan,"—her voice reaches me—"I didn’t know you smoked."