The Things We Knew (21 page)

“Well”—Liz nodded toward the house—“we're not quite
all onboard
, are we?”

“I'll go talk to him.” Lynette's sigh said she really wasn't up to the challenge.

Nick shook his head and got to his feet. “No. This is between Gray and me.”

“Yell if you need backup.” David gave him the thumbs-up sign. Nick glanced back at Lynette. She hadn't moved, still studying him like she wasn't quite sure what to make of it all.

Neither was he, really.

He began walking to the steps.

“Nick.” Lynette caught up to him, slipped an arm through his, and forced him to stop and look at her. “You really don't have to do this.”

If they'd been the only ones outside, he would have given up the fight. Taken her in his arms and shown her exactly why he'd made the offer. But David and Liz were five feet away, watching them like protective parents. “Yes, I do.” It was all he could say.

N
ick followed the sound of the piano.

Gray sat behind the old baby grand in the living room. Nick stepped into the room and pulled the double doors shut.

Several instruments still lay in their cases near the piano. He shifted them aside until he found the case he was looking for, lifted the lid, and stared at the guitar.

Memories hid in the shadows around him.

Drake's old Taylor didn't look any worse for wear. Probably hadn't been used since the last time Nick had played it, Christmas, five years ago. Nick dislodged the instrument from its red velvet casing, kicked a nearby ottoman toward the piano, and sat.

Gray continued to play as though he wasn't there.

Nick took his time tuning, even though it sounded pretty good to his ear, drew in a breath, and gradually caught up to the rhythm of the music. It might have been his paranoid imagination, but Gray seemed to play a little harder. Faster.

Finally he slowed his pace.

And then he began to sing.

Nick knew the song. It was an old one they'd written together. He remembered the words, but couldn't force them from his tongue. Instead, he played along, pressed his lips together, and made peace with years of regret and hard feelings.

Gray finished, shut the lid of the piano with a thud, and turned toward him. Neither of them spoke. Finally Gray gave a resigned shrug. “What, Nick?”

Nick stilled the strings on the guitar and prayed for the right words.

“I want us to talk.” Nick placed the guitar on the floor and sat forward. “This has gone on too long.”

Gray pushed to his feet and began to pace the room. Nick watched him come to a standstill in front of the table that held images from a life Nick had once been part of.

“You don't know what she meant to me.” Gray picked up a black-and-white photograph of his mother, held it toward Nick with shaking hands.

“You know better than that.” Nick ran a hand down his face, unable to move. “When my parents were hightailing it out to New York every weekend for some social event, your parents took me in. They made me a part of this family. Don't tell me you don't remember that.”

“Yeah. So, why?” Gray shook the picture at him, and Nick half feared he would hurl it across the room. “Why would you make up such a ridiculous story about our parents having an affair and expect me to believe you?”

So there it was.

After all the years, distance, and hate that Gray had put between them, he still wasn't willing to face the truth.

“Ask yourself the same question.” Nick folded his arms and set his jaw. “Outside of the last five years, there's not a lot you don't know about me. Why do you think I'd make something like that up? What would I possibly have to gain?”

Gray put the picture down, flopped onto the couch, and flung one arm across his face. “I don't know.” The muffled words were barely discernable.

“You don't know because I wouldn't. I've never lied to you, Gray. You know that.”

“If you're talking about that stupid blood brother thing . . .” Gray's cough sounded more like choked laughter.

Nick grinned at the memory.

Do we have to?” Nick eyed the Swiss Army knife in Gray's hand, feeling like he wanted to puke and there wasn't even any blood yet.

“Yes, we have to. Do you want to be blood brothers or not?” Gray pulled out a blade and touched the tip of it with his finger. He kept an eye on Nick, probably thinking he might make a run for it. The blade looked sharp. It wouldn't take much, but . . .

“This is dumb. We're already best friends. Why do we need to do this?”

Gray sighed and drew his knees up to his chest. Crickets chirped outside their tent. His friend's face glowed yellow in the light of the Coleman lamp and Nick felt sicker by the second.

Gray tapped out a couple of Chiclets from the pack and popped them in his mouth. “Because right now, we're ten. If we don't do it, by the time we're twenty, we might forget the promise.”

“I'm not going to forget the promise.” Nick squared his shoulders and stuck out his bottom lip. “I don't need to cut myself with some stupid knife. What if it gets infected? My mom will kill me.”

Gray cackled and grabbed Nick's hand. Before Nick could fight him off, he'd slashed a small gash across his palm. Gray did the same to his own and pressed their palms together. “Say it.”

Gray's eyes took on a certain glow, filled with excitement and a little disbelief. And Nick smiled. “I will stand by my brother through thick and thin, under any and all circumstances. I will never lie to my brother, no matter what, and I will defend him to the death.”

“So help you, God.”

“So help me, God.” Nick squeezed Gray's hand. “Your turn.”

“I know we were just kids, Gray, but it meant something to me.”

Gray swore, pushed himself up, and sat with his head in his hands for a long time. “You take things way too seriously, Cooper.” A slow smile inched upward and put the sparkle back in his eyes. “Yeah, okay.” He scratched at the stubble on his chin. “David told me he talked to you.”

“Yes.”

“Who else knows?”

“Nobody. Well, Cecily.” Nick wished for the thousandth time he had the power to change the past. “But I don't want Lynnie to know.”

“No kidding. She'd have a cow.” Gray raised an eyebrow. “What's up with you and my sister, Coop?”

Nick shrugged. If he had the answer to that, he'd be a happy man. “When we figure it out, you'll be the first to know.”

Gray gave a low laugh and shook his head. “Dang. Didn't see that one coming.”

“Neither did I.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

Gray sat forward and studied him. “So what's the deal? You with Mindy or not? Because if you are—”

“I know, Gray.” He held up a hand in defense. “It's not what you think, okay? The thing with Mindy is nothing.”

“Yeah? Because if you hurt Lynnie, I have friends who can hurt you.”

“I'm sure you do.” Nick tried not to smile and had to look at his feet to manage it.

When he looked up, Gray had his game face back on. “About the house. I don't have a whole lot of cash left, but I could probably
squeeze out a couple of grand for starters. You really think it'll fly?” He glanced around the room and made a face like he'd just sucked on a lemon. “I don't know the first thing about home improvement, but the place needs work.”

Work or a wrecking ball. The wallpaper was faded, peeling in places. The floorboards throughout had long lost their luster; he'd bet some were rotting. But it wasn't impossible.

Nick nodded. “I've already got some ideas for the renovations.”

“Yeah?” Gray leaned against the couch and put his hands behind his head. One corner of his mouth inched upward. “Still got that architect bug?”

Nick rubbed his eyes and gave a short nod. “I think it could work, but it could get complicated.”

Gray's expression told him he knew exactly what that meant. “You really want to go to war against your old man, Coop?”

“If that's what it takes.”

“It could get nasty.”

“It's already nasty.” He'd suffer more of his father's wrath that was certain. But it wasn't anything he couldn't handle, and it couldn't be any worse than what he'd already endured.

“Okay then.” Gray pulled his arms behind his head and Nick heard his joints crack. He probably hadn't had a good workout in years. “So am I gonna have to see your ugly mug around here every day now or what?”

Nick laughed and walked the room, stopping by the photographs. “I don't know about every day. Some of us have to work.”

“Yah. Poor you.” Gray coughed and went back to the piano. “Where'd you go the last five years anyway? Lynnie told me you split the same summer I went to California. Nobody knew where you were.”

“It's kind of a long story.” Nick scratched his jaw, turned, and saw Gray watching him.

“Well, I figured. I've got one of those too.”

Nick shook off the apprehension, found an odd comfort in this moment, talking to Gray again. “Maybe we can swap sometime.”

His friend hiked up an eyebrow, played a couple of chords, and finally smiled. “I got all night, man.”

F
riday finally arrived. When Nick called at the beginning of the week, asking Lynette to dinner at the yacht club, at first she'd refused. But he could be very persuasive, and eventually she'd relented. A night out that didn't involve cooking or children might be just what she needed.

It wasn't a real date. At least that's what she kept telling herself.

She'd had second, third, and fourth thoughts already. Part of her said she was sailing beyond the boundaries, going into unchartered waters, and if she wasn't careful, she'd find herself flung upon the rocks.

A bigger part of her said that after all these years, she might still be holding on to some unresolved feelings where Nick Cooper was concerned and she needed to explore them.

Nick pushed up his tie, combed his hair, and braced his palms on the top of his dresser. His father had told him earlier that he'd canceled his plans for the evening and was staying home, much to Nick's surprise. Dad rarely missed social functions, which made Nick wonder how he was really faring with the treatments. Not that it would do any good to ask. He'd be waved off and the subject changed at once.

Nick made his way downstairs, stuck his head around the door
of the living room. “Dad? I'm heading out.” His father sat in a chair by the window, one hand clutching the top of his shirt. “Dad?” Nick crossed the room, took one look at his father's ashen face, and panicked. “Dad? What's wrong? What's going on?”

“I feel . . . I don't know.” He set bleary eyes on Nick. “I don't feel very well, Nicholas.”

Nick put a hand on Dad's forehead. “You're burning up. We should get you to the emergency room.”

Dad groaned. “I don't need to go to the hospital.” A cough rattled his entire body.

“Stay there. I'm getting help.” Was Soraya even here? Nick raced through the house, gave up on finding the housekeeper, and grabbed his car keys. Like it or not, they were going to the hospital. Dad could ream him out later.

Lynette stood by the empty fireplace, her navy blue cocktail dress sticking to the back of her legs. David sprawled on the couch, pretending to read, but every now and then he glanced at her over the top of his glasses. Gray sat at the piano, playing the same chords over and over.

The front door slammed and Liz marched into the living room. “There's nobody next door. The place is dark except for a light in the hall.”

“Try his cell again, Lynnie.” David sat up and gave her a smile that she supposed was to make her feel better. It didn't.

“It just goes straight to voice mail.” The excitement of an hour ago, when Liz finished doing her hair and forcing a touch of makeup on her, had long since faded. Now she just felt stupid.

“Maybe he meant next Friday.” Gray played a little harder.

“He didn't.” Lynette kicked off her shoes. Her eyes began to sting. “I guess something happened. I hope he's okay.”

“You want me to beat him up for you?” Gray left the piano and came to stand in front of her. “Just because we're speaking again doesn't mean I won't punch his lights out.”

“Gray.” She willed her tears back but they fell anyway.

“Hey. None of that.” Gray tipped her chin upward. “He's not worth it,” he whispered.

She nodded and tried to control the suffocating emotions. “I know.”

“Guys are scum, Lynnie.” Liz attempted a quick hug. “The sooner you accept it, the better off you'll be.”

“Not all guys.” David joined their circle and put an arm around Lynette's shoulders. “You okay, Shortstop?”

“I'll be fine.” She dabbed at her eyes and smiled for them. “It's not like this is the first time I've been stood up.”

Except then, it hadn't been by Nick. In fact, he'd rescued her.

The clock in the hall ticked out the minutes. Another hour passed.

She refused to look at Liz, who had come home for the momentous occasion. Ryan pitched a baseball from hand to hand and kept staring at her. Every now and then he missed, and the ball thudded to the ground. Lynette wished they'd both stayed away. At least Gray had already left the house. He, Nick, and the rest of the band would be at the dance. Hopefully they'd be so into their music that they wouldn't notice if she never showed up.

Cecily hovered, glancing at her watch and sucking her teeth.

Dad shuffled over to Lynette, cleared his throat, and blinked at her through bleary eyes. He hadn't had a drink for a couple of hours—she had to give him credit for trying. But she knew as soon as this was over, he'd be heading into the study to talk it over with Johnny Walker.

“Sweetheart, I don't think he's coming.” He held his arms open and she slipped into them.

Mark was a jerk anyway. She didn't know why she'd agreed to go to the homecoming dance with him. At fifteen, she'd never had a date. She didn't go all crazy after guys like other girls. But when Mark asked her, she got all tongue-tied and stupid and said yes.

“Well, I guess that's it, then. I'm going to sit outside a bit.” She pecked Dad on the cheek and watched him wander off toward the kitchen.

Cecily gave her a long hug and a knowing look. “You gonna be okay, baby?” Lynette nodded, holding back tears.

“Lynnie . . .” Liz came forward, no doubt full of womanly advice that Lynette didn't want to hear.

“Leave her alone,” Ryan growled. Lynette glanced his way and smiled her thanks, raised a hand, and slipped out the doors onto the patio. She sank into a comfortable wicker lounger, pulled a throw rug over her legs, listened to the sound of the sea, and allowed the tears to come.

Awhile later she startled and realized she'd fallen asleep. And she was no longer alone.

“Hey, Shortstop.” Nick crouched by her chair, concern in his eyes. He leaned a little closer, smelling slightly of beer and that awesome cologne he wore.

“Hi, Nick.” She didn't bother moving. “What time is it?”

“Just after one. You okay?”

“Sure.” She smiled, but her wobbly voice betrayed her. To her embarrassment, her eyes filled again. “Where's Gray?”

Nick's brow furrowed. “He and Ryan went for a drive.”

Lynette sat up and put her head in her hands. “Oh no.” Poor Mark. The guy was toast.

“Hey.” Nick raised an eyebrow, stern. “Don't feel sorry for him, Lynnie. He's getting what he deserves. Anyway, they won't really hurt him. Just shake him up a bit. I made them promise.”

“I feel so dumb,” she whispered. “I don't know why I thought that anyone would want to go with me in the first place.”

“Enough of that.” Nick took her hands and pulled her to her feet. “Let me see you.” The beginnings of a smile started as he checked her out. “You picked the blue dress.”

“Yep.” She smoothed down the silky fabric. “Liz wasn't happy, but she got over it.” Shopping with Liz was never fun. Actually, doing anything with Liz felt like enduring a month of detention.

She hated that Nick and Gray hardly ever came home from boarding school anymore. She'd been so glad when the dance committee had asked their band to play. They'd be off to college in the fall and then she'd probably never see them. But this weekend they were here, and for once, no girls tagged along.

Nick made her turn in a circle. “I like it.”

His eyes sparkled like stars when he smiled. She could spend all her time just watching him and it wouldn't be enough.

Nick Cooper was six foot something of pure gorgeousness. Whenever she saw him now, Lynette found it impossible to keep her heart from thumping. She wouldn't deny she had a major crush, but it was her secret. If any of them found out, they'd never stop teasing her.

He abandoned his preppy clothes on gig nights, opting for black Ts and stone-washed jeans instead. His blond hair was a little on the long side and a hint of stubble on his jaw gave him a bad-boy look.

“You really like it?” She wished he still went to the same school as she did. Nick never would have stood her up. Not that he'd ever ask her to be his date, but she could always dream. “You're just being nice.”

“Nope.” He led her out into the middle of the patio, pulled her close, one hand around her waist, the other pressing her palm against his chest, and he began to hum.

“What are you doing?” Lynette couldn't stop a giggle as she tried to keep step with his slow movements.

“Dancing with you.”

She still wasn't used to how low his voice had gotten. Or the way his soft laugh made her heart do multiple back flips. “Why?”

Nick hummed a few more bars, made a half turn, and stopped. “Because you're beautiful, Lynnie.” He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. “And beautiful girls were meant to be danced with.” His dimple deepened with his wink.

“Thanks, Nick.” She dared to give him a quick hug, then fled into the house.

“I'm going upstairs.” Lynette left her siblings alone and went into hiding.

She checked on Dad, then tried to read but couldn't. Didn't want to paint either. The paintings she was doing for Evy were fine, but the other ones . . . Those were scaring her half to death.

Eventually she left her room to retrieve the dry cleaning from the car that she'd forgotten to bring in earlier. As she made her way toward Liz's room, she saw her sister at the door to their mother's bedroom.

Lynette stopped walking. “What are you doing, Liz?”

“Hey, Lynnie.” Liz jiggled the door handle. “Did Nick call?”

“Not yet.” She was more than worried, but wouldn't admit that.

“Sorry, hon.” Liz tried the door again. “Why is this door locked?”

“I have your dry cleaning.” Lynette clutched the plastic bags against her chest.

“Put it in my room. Why is this door locked?”

“Because it is.” She needed to dump this stuff and get out of there, but she'd have to go past Liz. She needed to get her away from that door.