Whatever. Nate had to get his segue right. After he hit whoever answered the Luchas House’s landline with the jacket story, he needed to be prepared to walk into the farmhouse, check the garage for what he knew was not there—and casually bring up Elyn. Where she might be. Whether she was expected to turn up . . . anywhere. He was going to have to keep his tone light and his eyeballs neutral. Nothing nervous or shady.
Even though his true intent was not casual. In the slightest.
He’d gotten no phone calls during the day.
No, that wasn’t true. Shuli had called. Twice. And there had been work texts, assigning him to a job starting on Monday. Which meant he had the night and the weekend off with nothing to do but wait, and wonder, and jump every time Shuli called to ask him to go out.
What the hell was he going to do—
“Fine, I was the one who asked Shuli to watch over you.”
Nate froze in mid-chew as Murhder did the same with a forkful of scrambled egg on the way to his mouth.
“What?”
“What?”
As they both spoke at the same time, Sarah shoved her plate away and crossed her arms over her lab coat. Her honey-colored eyes were so upset as she smoothed her shoulder-length hair back.
“I just . . . I’m sorry, Nate. You were starting your first job. You were going out into the dangerous world. I was scared. I did the wrong thing, fine, but I won’t apologize for trying to keep you safe. You have had . . . well, trauma, you know? And I wasn’t sure how to help you, and sometimes parents do dumb stuff. But I certainly never intended for a gun to be involved.”
At that point, she burst into tears, grabbing a napkin and pressing it into her eyes. With sniffles rising up and her shoulders shaking, Nate looked to Murhder in a panic—but the Brother was already on it, scraping back his chair and going over to kneel by his shellan.
“I’m fine.” She batted at her mate. “I just hate that you two aren’t speaking! I can’t stand being in the same house with all this tension, and it’s my fault and, oh, shit, can I have your napkin, too.”
Nate slowly sat back as two of the syllables she spoke sank in. Same. House.
“Do you think I can move into Luchas House?” he blurted.
They both looked at him. And then Sarah started to cry even harder.
“I didn’t know you were so unhappy here—”
“What’s gotten into you?” Murhder rose to his feet. “I don’t get it—”
“Are you on drugs?”
“You’re doing drugs?!”
Shaking himself back to attention, Nate felt like he was in an episode of Who’s the Boss? as both his parents talked over each other in full our-son-is-an-addict panic.
Putting his napkin next to his plate, he went to get up. “I’ve got to make a phone call—”
At that moment, Murhder’s cell started to ring. “Goddamn it.” As he shoved a hand into his back pocket and then checked the screen, he cursed again and pointed to Nate. “You sit your ass back down right now.” Then he barked into the phone, “What.”
Nate glanced over to where he’d left his backpack on the counter. Maybe instead of going the lost-jacket route, he could call Mrs. Mary and ask if there was a room in Luchas House for a caretaker person type thing. It was his only shot at being there on a regular basis, and for setting up a cross-paths with Elyn: Obviously, he couldn’t work at Safe Place because males were not allowed in there—well, and he had no counseling degree or experience. And he couldn’t be at Luchas House as a social worker for the same reason. But maybe if he lived there as lower-level staff?
Because maybe he’d been wrong about Elyn leaving?
Although who was he kidding. She hadn’t called him and like that wasn’t a tea leaf he should read?
“—he’s right here.” Murhder frowned and looked across the table. “Uh-huh. Okay—well, lemme talk to him and Sarah. Sure. Yeah. Later.”
As the Brother hung up, he frowned. “That was Rhage. He said that Mary’s looking for a little help at Luchas House tonight. Guess there’s a young female moving in there and they need the furniture in her bedroom set up—”
Nate jumped out of his chair. “Yes! Did you tell him I’ll do it, yes? Yes!” He wheeled around for his backpack and fumbled to get his phone out. “I’ll text him—”
“You can sit the fuck down,” Murhder snapped, “and tell us what the hell is going on here first.”
“Nothing?” Nate lowered his butt back into his chair and put his hands in the air like it was a stickup. “I just want to help. Over at Luchas House. You know, they’re doing really special things—you know, the helping of people. Over there.”