Before Jamaica Lane (On Dublin Street #3)(14)
Author: Samantha Young

She looked up at him and a silent conversation passed between them. ‘Sure.’ She took the hand he held out to her and he helped her up. Even after they’d left the room it was still thick with unease.

Cole cleared his throat and started playing the game again. ‘I think the reaction time on this is a little slow, by the way,’ he offered, trying to change the subject.

Nate nodded gratefully at him. ‘I think you’re right, wee man.’

They began discussing the game with Peetie. The whole time, I watched Nate, waiting for the tension along the back of his shoulders to disappear. It didn’t. My chest ached for him. I needed him to know that if he was having a hard time, I was there for him just like he was there for me. I shuffled closer to Nate as Peetie disagreed with Cole over the graphics.

‘Tattoo?’ I asked softly in his ear, not sure whether I would get my head bitten off like Jo had.

Nate turned to me, his eyes soft as he gave a shake of his head. ‘Later, babe,’ he muttered. ‘I shouldn’t have spoken to Jo like that.’

‘She’s fine,’ I reassured him. Giving his knee a gentle squeeze, I got up with the intention of going to help Jo. As I was leaving the room, Cam was coming back in and he was scowling.

‘You okay?’

He gave me a slight shake of his head. ‘She feels bad for pushing him.’

‘He feels bad for snapping, so don’t give him a hard time,’ I murmured.

Cam gazed over at his friend and then whispered, ‘You forget I know, Liv. I wasn’t going to give him a hard time. But I sometimes wonder if someone should.’

Not really sure how to answer that, I gave him a sad smile and slipped past. I found Jo in the kitchen, pouring bags of chips – or crisps, as she and Dad called them – into bowls. I spotted packets of peanuts and empty bowls, and began to help out.

‘So how’s your week going?’ I asked her quietly. ‘Has Dad worked you to the bone?’

Jo smiled at me over her shoulder. ‘We’re really busy. But that’s a good thing.’

‘And the new employees?’

‘Good. I think Cam was a bit worried about it – how the guys would treat me – but Mick has chosen carefully. They’re literally two more Uncle Micks, so I’ve got three of them to deal with now.’

I smiled. ‘I gathered that much when talking to Dad.’

‘What about you?’ Her brow puckered as she stared at me. ‘Are you okay? You seem … I don’t know … Last night at the restaurant you were really quiet. Is it Mick and Dee? Are you okay about them? We haven’t really spoken about it and they definitely seem serious now.’

Last night I had been quiet, but it was mostly because I was replaying all the very complimentary and somewhat risqué things Nate had said to me during our lessons the night before. ‘Honestly, it’s just been a tiring week. I think Dee is great. No problems there.’

‘You’re still allowed to feel strange about it – you know that, right?’

I shook my head but felt that ache press in on my chest as I replied, ‘Dad adored Mom and he held her hand through it all. She spent a lot of their marriage sick. Too sick. So sick they were more like companions than lovers, but Dad didn’t complain. I don’t think he even cared – he loved her that much.’ I smiled through my suddenly blurry vision. ‘He deserves happiness now. Dee is really cool and she makes him happy. I’m good with it.’

I wasn’t surprised to see tears shimmering in Jo’s eyes. She had a tendency to cry when her friends did because she cared enough to feel what they felt. ‘You can always talk to me, Liv, if you’re having a hard time about anything.’

Of course I knew this was true and I knew that Jo would be there for me anytime I needed her, if only just to listen. I knew I could talk to her if I was having a bad time about my mom, but the last time I did go through a hard time about it – which was Thanksgiving last year – Nate happened to be the one who was there to see me through it.

As for the problems I was having now …

I couldn’t talk to Jo about them.

Starting over in Scotland, starting over with Jo, was a clean slate in more ways than one. I didn’t have a close group of friends back in the States, but those few friends I did leave behind knew me long enough to know my history – or lack of – with men. They never said it outright, but they always spoke to me about guys with this hint of pity, sometimes even superiority, that made me feel even worse about myself.

But Jo … Jo didn’t know any of this.

When we first met she was going through some pretty bad stuff with her mom and dad. For a long time I think she thought the abuse she suffered at their hands was somehow her fault. Meeting her at such an emotional time for her accelerated our friendship. I became a confidante for her, and somehow I found the right words to make her feel better about herself. Because of that and my sometimes cocky sense of humor, Jo saw me as this self-assured, strong, confident, and sassy woman. I knew this because she told me so all the time. She told me she admired me. With Jo, I liked myself so much more than I usually did. She was the only mirror I liked looking into.

I wasn’t ready to let go of those moments when I felt about myself the way I should. Telling her the truth, about all these insecurities that Nate was helping me through, would put an end to that. I wanted to continue to grow into the person I wanted to be, and then I would open up to her. Not confiding in her was not a reflection upon how good a friend she was. Because she was the best.

‘I know I can always come to you.’ I grabbed her hand and squeezed it affectionately. ‘You’re the best non-sister sister I ever had.’

Her green eyes widened with surprised pleasure at my announcement, and her lips parted as if she was about to say something in return when we suddenly heard a loud thump from upstairs. The smile was instantly chased from Jo’s face as she stared up at the ceiling. On a heavy sigh she murmured, ‘I better go check on her.’

Last year Jo had moved out of the apartment upstairs that she had shared with her mom, Fiona, and Cole. Upon discovering that her alcoholic mother hit Cole, Jo had attempted to keep her brother away from their mom as much as possible. They spent a lot of time downstairs in Cam’s apartment. Finally Cam asked Jo and Cole to move in with him, not only because he wanted them there but because Cole needed to be out of that situation pronto.

‘Do you want company?’ I offered, knowing that dealing with Fiona was often unpleasant for my friend.

She shook her head and gave me an apologetic smile. ‘You know how she feels about you.’

Indeed I did. When I first met Fiona she’d been ugly to me because she’d always had a thing for my dad and was jealous of my mom and resented me. She’d told me I looked like my mom, as though that was a bad thing. It was actually one of the nicest things she could ever have said to me.

‘Go on.’ I waved her off. ‘I’ll deal with the snacks.’

Sighing again, Jo headed out of the kitchen and I followed, carrying a plate of little sandwiches she’d made up.

‘I’m going to see if Mum’s okay,’ she called out to the guys as she passed the sitting room.

Cam almost bumped into me. He let me pass, calling out to Jo, ‘I’m coming with you.’

As I entered the sitting room, my eyes immediately went to Cole. Just as I expected, his handsome, boyish features were strained as he stared up at the ceiling. I hated seeing that look on his face. I worried what it meant, what was going on inside.

Cole never talked about it, but I couldn’t imagine it was any easier for him growing up with a mom like Fiona than it had been for Jo. Not easy either to grow up without a dad, and then to discover that your dad was an abusive a**hole. By all accounts Jo had been his mother, not Fiona. Still, their mom’s abuse must have left its mark, and just the thought of that mark scarring Cole made me feel sick to my stomach. He was the best kid ever. I couldn’t understand how anyone could hurt him.

Sensing my gaze, Cole looked over at me and I smiled gently.

He gave me a small smile back, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

‘Sandwich?’ I asked, walking over to him with the plate. Before he could say anything I sat down next to him and thrust the plate under his nose.

Cole slowly accepted a sandwich.

I remained silent.

He looked up at me, as if he was waiting for me to say something.

Instead I gave him a slow, cheeky grin. Cole stared at me like I was a new species. Then he shook his head and burst into low laughter. His whole body relaxed and he bit into the sandwich.

I lifted my smiling eyes. They collided with Nate’s and the smile almost faltered at his expression. The look on his face was so tender I felt it knock the wind out of me. I felt that now familiar, pleasurable ache in my chest as he winked at me.

I didn’t think anyone could wink without it looking stupid or corny.

I was wrong.

Nate could.

Nate made winking panty-droppingly hot.

Oh, boy, better be careful, Soda Pop.

‘You don’t have to walk me home, Nate,’ I said as we hit Leith Walk.

After Jo had dealt with whatever was going on with her mom, she and Cam had returned to the flat and we’d switched the video game off to watch a comedy. Nate made a point of leaning down to kiss Jo’s forehead when he got up to go to the bathroom, and the tension between them melted away. The tattoo, however, was still on my mind because … well, I was just nosy like that. Mostly I was concerned about the reaction it had elicited in Nate. I got through the movie without bugging him about it, but when Peetie left we took that as our cue and announced we had to get going too.

Nate lived in Marchmont, a heavily student-populated area behind the Meadows – a large public park behind the University of Edinburgh. It was southwest of Jo and Cam’s apartment on London Road, whereas I was just west. It was a good forty-minute walk from my apartment to Nate’s.

‘It’s after midnight,’ he replied softly. ‘I’m not letting you walk home alone.’

‘I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.’

‘That might be true if you ever decided to come along to judo with me.’

Wrinkling my nose at the thought, I said, ‘I like watching it, but I’m not up for doing it.’

‘I hope that won’t be your attitude toward sex.’ He smirked cheekily at me. ‘Then again, voyeurism is hot.’

I punched him on the arm. ‘You’re so immature.’

‘I can’t help it if you don’t think through what you’re saying before you say it,’ he replied with an unapologetic shrug.

‘Dude, there was nothing sexual about what I said. You just have a way of making everything sound dirty.’

He grinned at me. ‘You, a grown woman of twenty-six years old, say “dude” and you call me immature?’

‘That’s beside the point,’ I replied haughtily, ignoring his laughter. And in ignoring his laughter I stupidly decided to ruin his mood. Clearing my throat, I nudged him with my shoulder. ‘So the uh … the, uh, tattoo?’