What Matters Most (24 page)

Nick would have defended her out of habit but something stopped him. Maybe it was knowing he was walking away that did it, or maybe it was finally getting a glimpse of what it was like to have someone love him. Either way, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Carlos to back off. The man was one of the few friends Nick had besides Adam.

Shit!
He needed to let Adam know what was going on—and he wanted to thank him, because Adam had pushed when Nick needed it and backed off when he didn’t. Nick would take care of that after dealing with his mother. Maybe he’d even see if Adam wanted to meet up for lunch or something.

Carlos stopped him when they reached the screen door. The foreman gripped Nick’s forearm and tipped his chin towards the interior of the house. “Are you sure about this? You could still make it right with her, maybe. Or you could just turn around and leave.”

Nick shook his head. “I never wanted this place. I wanted a father that gave a shit about me, not one that would use me to hurt his other kids. This is Mama’s dream, not mine, and she can have it. Maybe it’ll finally make her happy.”

Carlos snorted and pulled the door open. “Nothing will make that woman happy.”

Nick had a feeling the other man was right. He stepped into the house and

immediately felt his mother’s anger like a thickening in the air. It was a familiar feeling, one WHAT MATTERS MOST

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that used to make him cringe as a kid when he’d come home from school. He always knew when he was in trouble.

Straightening his shoulders, Nick headed towards the kitchen with Carlos at his heels.

“I’ll just wait right here,” Carlos said, leaning against the wall by the kitchen door.

“Just in case.”

Nick nodded and pushed the door open, his gaze immediately pulled to his mother’s where she sat at the kitchen table. Despite the anger rolling off her in waves, she was immaculately groomed, her greying hair pulled up into a tight knot on her head and her dress some pale pink confection that practically screamed money.

“Mama,” Nick began only to have the rest of his words dry up with the cutting look she gave him.

“You are just like him, running off to lay with some puta,” she accused. “Forgetting about your responsibilities and choosing to give in to sins of the flesh!”

Nick stared at her as anger seeped into his veins. “And you’d know about that,

wouldn’t you? Since you did the same with Ian Calhoun.”
Even once he was married.
Nick wasn’t quite brave enough, or angry enough, to say that out loud.

Antonia’s eyes narrowed as she pointed at him. “It wasn’t the same. Ian and I were married in the eyes of God. I gave him my innocence—”

Nick’s temper spiked as he slashed his hand through the air. “I’ve heard it before. It doesn’t make any more sense now than it did the first dozen times you pelted me with it.”

Nick took a step closer and studied his mother closely, knowing he’d likely not see her again.

Her petite form belied the strength inside, even if it was a misguided strength. Nothing he said would sway her, he knew that, and it hurt, knowing she didn’t love him. He was just a tool to her, and nothing he ever did would change that. His anger drained away leaving behind the hollow ache of loss.
Stupid to mourn something I’ve never had.
“I’m leaving. I’ll talk to the lawyer, have him put this place in your name. It’s what you’ve always wanted anyway.”

“What kind of son are you, to leave your mama alone like this?” Antonia stood

slowly, a tiny, dangerous predator stalking her prey. “I raised you better than those hijos de puta—”

“Stop it,” Nick snapped, slapping one hand down onto the table. “Rory and Annabelle aren’t the bastards here.
I
am!
I
am the one without the Calhoun name, the one who wasn’t WHAT MATTERS MOST

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wanted until I became a handy tool for hurting Calhoun’s legitimate children! And if I’m the bastard, that makes you—” Nick bit back ‘the whore’, but not fast enough. Antonia rounded the table and he didn’t try to stop her when she raised her hand and slapped him hard enough to make him stumble. The coppery taste of blood trickled onto his tongue from his cheek being torn by his teeth, but Nick ignored it as he caught his mother’s hand the second time she raised it to hit him.

“You get one,” Nick ground out, clamping her wrist tightly as she pulled against his hold. “Not because what I said isn’t true, but because I was stupid enough to waste my breath saying it.” He stared down into eyes as dark as his own, his stomach twisting at the hatred burning in their depths. Had she ever loved him? Nick didn’t know, and he supposed it didn’t matter in the end. “You want this place, you can have it. I wish it would make you happy, but I don’t think anything can do that.” He released her arm and took a step back. “I know I can’t; I’ve spent all my life trying to make you proud of me, make you happy, and I’m done.”

Antonia sneered and took a step forward. Nick watched her hands warily. For a small woman, she packed a punch. “Is she worth it, this puta you’re leaving for? How stupid are you, to think a woman would want you—”

Nick shook his head, knowing the words tickling his throat would severe any

remaining ties between them. He started to turn away only to find his wrist caught in his mother’s fierce grip.

“You ungrateful pendejo,” Antonia screeched as he faced her. Her other hand cracked across his cheek, catching the corner of his mouth. “You stupid, ungrateful—”

“That’s enough!” Carlos barrelled through the door and wrapped his arms around

Antonia. “Woman, you need some serious help.” He lifted Antonia and jerked her back, forcing her to release Nick’s wrist.

Nick dabbed at the blood welling on his lower lip as he looked at his mother. “It’d be a waste of time and effort. She’s exactly what she wants to be.” He saw that clearly now.

Nothing he could have done would have made a difference. Antonia played the role she wanted to, and anything that threatened that would be cut from her life, her reality.

“I’ll call and see when the lawyer can draw up whatever papers he needs to,” Nick finally said when his mother seemed unwilling to speak.

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“You could press charges,” Carlos offered, which did get a reaction from Antonia.

Carlos grunted when she began fighting, gouging him with bony elbows and kicking his shins with even pointier heels.

“It’s not worth it,” Nick said, wiping again at his lip. “Once I leave here, I don’t ever want to come back.” He flicked a glance to his foreman and hoped Carlos still had a sure grip on Antonia. Carlos seemed to know what he was asking and nodding, his arms tightening until Antonia huffed out a loud breath. “I have a good man waiting for me back in Texas.”

Nick turned and walked out, Antonia’s shrieked curses following him all the way to his truck. Fuck his stuff. There was nothing he wanted badly enough to put up with any more of his mother’s insults and abuse. The only thing he wanted, needed, was Josh, and the sooner Nick got the ranch transferred into his mother’s name, the sooner he could join his lover.

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Nick walked into Stratton and Associates, eagerness and dread warring for

precedence inside him. This was it, the last thing standing between him and freedom. He was coming to pick up his copies of the papers transferring the ranch into Antonia’s name. James Stratton, his attorney, had tried to talk Nick out of it, arguing against it until Nick had threatened to fire him and find another lawyer. Then Nick had felt like an ass and had blurted out the basic reasons for the transfer, including his sexuality and his desire to be with Josh. It was getting surprisingly easy to admit he was gay, or at least that he was gay for Josh.

Nick was proud of his lover and discovering a romantic side to himself he’d never known existed. If he could, he’d shout his love from the rooftops and write it in the sky. He was, he decided, turning into a sappy fool, but he didn’t particularly care.

The elevator stopped with a slight jerk that made Nick’s stomach dip and his hand tighten on the railing then the doors opened with a soft hiss. Stratton and Associates was right down the hall and Nick was pleasantly surprised when the pert receptionist smiled then ushered him straight into James Stratton’s office. The red headed attorney sat behind his desk but quickly stood and came around to shake Nick’s hand. For some reason, the red hair and freckles seemed out of place on a man Stratton’s size. He was bigger than Nick, broader and taller both, his body definitely that of a strong man while his face seemed to belong to a round faced teen. It was a disarming incongruity that Nick thought must keep people off balance around the attorney.

Stratton smiled and thumped Nick’s back once they’d shook hands. “You look like

you’re ready to head to Texas.”

“I am.” More than ready; this past week had been hell. If Nick had his way, he and Josh wouldn’t ever spend another night away from each other. “I take it you’re done trying to talk me out of it.”

“I wouldn’t ever stand in the way of love,” Stratton said with a laugh, moving to pick up a stack of papers on his desk. “That would earn me a Karmic kick in the ass for sure.”

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Nick blinked at the serious tone in the attorney’s voice. He’d not have taken the man to believe in Karma, but what did he know about Stratton? One of these days, Nick would learn to stop forming preconceived ideas about people.

Stratton offered the papers to Nick. “Not to mention, I met your mother.” He

shuddered, hissing as he did so. Nick wasn’t sure the guy was acting. “I can understand you wanting to get away from her. Do you want to look these over?”

Nick knew he should so he did, but he resented the few minutes it took to do so. He wanted to get on the road; if he could drive straight through, he could be with Josh in under thirty hours. After flicking through the documents, Nick nodded and handed them back to Stratton. “Looks good to me.”

Stratton’s blue eyes sparkled as he chuckled. “I bet I could have handed you a stack of blank papers for all the attention you paid to these.” He waved the papers in the air before twisting around and picking up a large manila envelope. He fitted the documents inside then closed the flap. “Also…” Stratton grabbed a second similarly sized envelope before turning back to Nick. This time there wasn’t a trace of the boy in the man’s face. “Your mother left this with my assistant after signing the papers. I don’t know what’s in it, but Ms. Clawson—

my assistant—was ordered to see to it this got to you.”

Nick took the ranch documents first, trepidation skittering over his skin as he stared at the second envelope. He wouldn’t put it past his mother to have filled the thing with religious fliers and brochures on conversion camps. What he found in the envelope hit him with the emotional equivalent of a Mack truck.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Nick was dimly aware of Stratton’s hand on his shoulder, urging him to sit in the chair in front of the attorney’s desk. “I don’t… I didn’t think they’d really bothered…” Nick stared down at the unopened white envelopes, stunned at his mother’s duplicity even as he was grateful she hadn’t opened the letters from Rory and Annabelle. At least she’d afforded him that right, although in truth, she probably just didn’t give enough of a shit to read the letters.

Then again, she
had
saved them, so what did that mean? Nick shook his head. Understanding Antonia would never be possible, and there wasn’t any point in trying.

His vision blurred as he held one letter out, trying to read the postmarked date on it.

“They’re letters, from Annabelle and Rory. Josh mentioned it, but I didn’t get them so I thought…” Thought what? That his lover had lied? Or that Rory and Annabelle had lied? In WHAT MATTERS MOST

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truth, Nick hadn’t pinned blame to anyone, had simply forgotten about it because he hadn’t received any letters and that had caused a dull throb in his heart. Now his heart thudded increasingly faster as he finally made out the date. Less than a week ago, and…Nick flinched, thinking he’d definitely open this one last. Chance Gallagher’s name was written at the top left, each letter a bold stroke that seemed to Nick a mark against him for his cowardice in approaching his siblings.

“Would it be easier if I read them first then gave you a summation of each one?”

Nick turned his head, startled to find Stratton sitting in the chair beside him, looking at him with a mix of sympathy and concern. “No, I need to do this, at least. If they…” Nick swallowed a lump that climbed into his throat. “If they hate me for taking what should have been theirs, or for being such a coward…” Well, he’d rather be the only one to read it if they did, and he’d have to think of a way to make peace with Rory and Annabelle since they were friends of Josh’s. And Annabelle was involved with Justin—and Evan. Nick would grovel, do whatever he had to in order to keep Josh from having to choose between him and them. Nick wasn’t entirely sure he’d come out the victor then, and even if he did, the cost to josh would be too high.

“Well, if you’re sure,” Stratton said, sounding less than certain himself. “But maybe you should read them here.”

Stratton’s pale complexion made the flush on his cheeks impossible to ignore. Nick knew he probably wore a matching one as well, but his darker skin would camouflage it better. “All right. Thank you.” He wasn’t sure his legs would hold him up anyway. Why had his mother bothered to give these to Stratton for him? As much as she hated Ian’s other kids, he was surprised she hadn’t destroyed the letters. Shrugging, he gave up trying to figure it out. Antonia’s thinking was incomprehensible to him, and maybe that was best. Nick turned his attention back to the letters and began to sort them out by date, setting Chance’s aside to read last.