Falling For Nick (9 page)

"Hello, darling," Robert said, his tone brisk. "Good afternoon, Mitzi."

"Hi, Robert." Mitzi came to her feet. She tucked a dark strand of hair behind her ear. "Can I get you a coffee?"

"Not just now." He frowned. "Clea, I'd like to speak to you alone."

"All right." She knew what was coming. Robert had learned about her dropping the No Contact Order. "We can use the office."

Robert followed her to the back of the shop, to the office. Once inside, she shut the door. Robert's mouth had a puckered look, as if he'd sucked on a lemon. Steeling herself for the worst, she took a seat in the desk chair.

"Why didn't you tell me you spoke with Judge Payne, Clea?" Robert asked, the words sad and filled with hurt.

Clea sighed. "Nick didn't deserve to be thrown in jail. He hadn't done anything wrong. No matter how upset I am, I just couldn't do that to him. It wasn't fair."

Robert glanced away, and she knew he was trying to hide his distress from her, increasing her guilt over setting Nick free. She wished her loyalty lay solely with Robert, but something about Nick compelled her to rally to his defense. She didn't want to hurt Robert, but they would never agree when it came to Nick.

"I think I know what's best for you and for John," Robert said, the words controlled. He walked away from her, then turned to face her. "You don't know Nick like I do."

"I think I know him pretty well," Clea said, a touch of defiance in her tone.

"I don't mean carnal knowledge, Clea."

The words were brutal, unlike Robert, and they pierced her like tiny barbs. "Excuse me?" She understood his jealousy, but not his need to hurt her. "I don't mean carnal knowledge either. I have had one or two conversations with Nick that didn't involve sex. I don't think he's a threat to John. Putting a No Contact Order on Nick will just make him angry and difficult to deal with. I don't need that, and neither does John. Things are hard enough with the upcoming move. I need your support, not your accusations, Robert."

He came toward her, a hard gleam in his eyes. "I know what's best."

"You don't." She stood. "I know what's best for John. I'm his mother."

Robert's cheeks reddened. "Yet another slap to my face for not being his father."

"Oh, Robert." Her heart grew heavy. They'd had this discussion many times. "This isn't a contest. I don't want to fight about Nick. I need your help. I have to tell John about him. I have no idea how he will react to his father being in town. John loves you. He needs you."

"I'm sorry," Robert said, his tone contrite. "Nick makes me jealous. I know it's stupid, but I can't seem to help it. I love you. I love John." He pulled Clea into his arms. "I'm afraid I'm going to lose you."

She stepped into Robert's embrace, needing the comfort he could give her. The musky scent of Robert's aftershave chased the smell of grease from her mind. It would be easy to let Robert take over, let him make the decisions, but she couldn't, not when it came to John.

"I'm sorry," she murmured against his jacket, her cheek brushing the fine fabric. "I don't want to fight."

"Neither do I." He kissed the top of her head. "Every time I think of Nick putting his hands on you it makes me insane."

Clea tipped her head back to better see him. "That was a long time ago. We were teenagers."

"I know." Robert pressed a kiss to her lips. "Forgive me. What can I do to help?"

"I'm going to tell John when he gets home," Clea said. "There are things only Nick can explain to John, things I think John needs to hear from his father. You can't bad-mouth Nick, Robert. John looks up to you, takes his cues from you. He picks up on your anger."

Robert glanced away. "In almost every respect I am John's father. Do you know what you're asking?"

"John will have two fathers," Clea said, not wanting to hurt him. "He is a lucky little boy. You know John adores you."

"This is hard for me." Robert searched her eyes. "Is it wrong for me to want you all to myself? It's all I've ever wanted."

"No. It's not wrong." Clea smiled. "It's a lovely sentiment, but unfortunately, life can get in the way. Help me make this transition in John's life easy. We have to help him nurture his friendship with Nick, even if we aren't crazy about the idea."

Robert made a sound of disgust. "Letting Nick into John's life isn't right. The man killed my brother. Do you really want a killer around your son?"

"Nick never meant to kill Danny. He's paid for what happened in more ways than one."

"And what about the lakeside robberies?" Robert asked. "Nick's a thief and a murderer."

"Stop it, Robert. We've been over this. I'm not going to discuss it again. Please, can't we concentrate on the present, on John?"

"I'm sorry." Robert gathered her close again. "I'll help you. I'll do whatever you want. You know that. I love you, Clea."

He kissed her, and Clea responded, or tried to, but her heart wasn't in the kiss, or in making Robert feel better. Instead, her mind wandered to John.

"I love you," Robert whispered against her lips, kissing her cheek, her neck.

Suddenly, he drew back.

"What?" Clea asked. He stared at something. She brought her hand up to touch her neck.

"You have grease on the side of your neck; and on your shirt. How did you get so dirty?"

"I don't know," Clea lied, remembering the grease on Nick's clothes, his hands.

"It's going to ruin your shirt," Robert said. "You should run upstairs and change." He smiled. "I could join you."

"I think you just want to part me from my clothes," she teased, glad to think of something other than Nick. "I'm off work in a few minutes. I'll change then."

The office door whipped open, and John's best friend, Toby, raced in. He skidded to a stop in front of Clea. Mitzi came in behind him, her brow creased with worry.

"What's wrong?" Clea's stomach knotted and she knew Toby's presence had something to do with John.

"There's a fight," Toby said out of breath, his cheeks pink from running. "At the bus stop. John's bleeding."

*   *   *

"Want to tell me what happened?" Clea passed John a fresh tissue. She'd been relieved to find John in one piece, but that relief had faded quickly when she'd seen his distress. "Throw that one in the garbage." She pointed to the can next to the desk.

John did as she asked, holding the clean tissue to his nose.

Clea exchanged a worried glance with Robert. Thankfully, he remained silent, letting her do the talking.

"Well, it's obvious someone socked you in the nose. He must have had a reason."

"I hit him first."

"Johnathan Rose! You know better than that." His lower lip trembled. In a softer tone, Clea said, "Did this have something to do with your father?" She saw the same defiance in her son's eyes she'd seen in Nick's so many times before. Even the way John slumped in the chair reminded her of Nick. They were so alike it scared her.

John shrugged.

She smoothed the hair from his forehead.

"Is my dad here?" he asked, the words loaded with hope, hope that broke Clea's heart.

"Yes. You know Nick's mother died. He came home for her funeral."

Robert stalked to the window, his distaste for the subject they discussed obvious, but she didn't have time to soothe him, too.

John's lower lip puffed out again. She had no idea what he thought about the news, but she did know he was hurting inside.

"Brandon Green said my dad was back, but I didn't believe him," John said. "He called my dad a jailbird. I hit him."

"Then he hit you back?" Clea prompted.

"In the nose."

"I'm sorry, honey." Clea put an arm around his shoulders. "It seems you and I have a lot to discuss."

"Is Dad going to come and see me?" He looked up at Clea with blue eyes an exact mirror of Nick's.

"Do you want him to?" Clea asked.

John shrugged.

"Nick is staying on in Port Bliss. He wants to get to know you. You are all he can talk about." She could see the conflicting emotions on John's face, and it pained her to think John was afraid both that Nick wouldn't want him and that he would. "How's your nose?"

"I think it's okay now." He dropped the tissue into the garbage can.

Clea inspected his nose, and seeing no further bleeding she said, "It looks good."

"Do I have to see my dad?" John asked.

Robert spun around. "Of course you don't."

Clea's heart sank. She shot Robert a look of disapproval before returning her attention to John. "I'd like you to meet your father, but when you're ready. He understands this is hard for you. It's hard for Nick, too. He doesn't want to upset your life."

John didn't reply, but he seemed to consider her words.

"Do you have any questions?"

His lips were clamped shut, another trait he'd inherited from Nick.

"Well, I can tell you what I know," she offered. "Your father works at Mr. Mullin's garage. He is very good with cars, but you know that. You've seen his brother driving The Boss around town."

"He works at Mullin's?" Robert came away from the window and headed for the office door. "I'll be back later. I have something to do." Before Clea could ask what, he left, and she gave a silent prayer he wasn't going to confront Nick.

"Is my dad driving that car now?" John asked, pulling her thoughts back to him. "I saw it parked across the street."

Clea smiled internally. She'd hoped that talking about cars would get John's attention. He loved cars as much as Nick. "Yes. I think he's staying at his mother's apartment."

"Oh." John slumped back in the chair.

Did he wonder why Nick hadn't come to see him? So many doubts plagued her, making her question every move she'd made since Nick's return. "Let's get you cleaned up, and have some dinner. We can talk more about your father then."

He didn't reply.

Somehow she had to repair the damage between Nick and John. She had no idea how to unite them, but for John's sake, she would have to try. John came first, now and always.

*   *   *

At seven o'clock Nick finally made it home. He'd left work just after three-thirty. After that he'd driven over to Bradley to pack up his things and tie up loose ends. Bone tired and filthy, he stripped off his clothes. Before he could jump in the shower, a knock sounded at the door.

"Hang on," Nick called, going back into the bedroom to pull on his pants. He wasn't expecting anyone, but a small kernel of hope erupted in him at the thought that it might be Clea coming to talk. He opened the door.

Boomer Bloomfield.

His hope shattered. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

Boomer looked Nick over from top to bottom. They'd never seen eye to eye, literally, with Boomer a good three inches shorter than Nick. Boomer didn't bother to hide his hatred. His eyes grew hard. His hands were knotted into fists at his sides. Boomer was one big ball of anger and frustration and tension, just like he had been as a teenager. Nick didn't know why, but he had the sudden urge to laugh.