Page 93 of Captivated

Chapter Twenty-Six

Nate hunghis towel over the porch railing. “Today feels as if it’s been forty-eight hours long.”

Zeeb chuckled. “That’s ’cause you packed a lot into it. An’ I’m not talkin’ ’bout activities. Emotions can wipe you out too.” He paused. “Where do you want your supper—here or at the bunkhouse?”

Nate bit his lip. “There are eggs in the fridge, ham, cheese… Would you make us one of those omelets you talked about?” He smiled. “I mean, you talked them up, so now I have to see if reality matches up to the hype.”

Zeeb hooted. “Oh,Isee. Like that, is it? Well, step aside, Mr. Caldwell, an’ let me deliver a masterclass in omelet-making.”

He laughed. “That good? This I have to see.” Despite his emotions taking a toll on him, Nate couldn’t deny it had been a good day. He hadn’t taken merely a step out of his comfort zone—it had been a huge flying leap, made easier because Zeeb had been there to catch him. To keep him from shattering into a million tiny pieces.

Zeeb went inside, and Nate followed. Zeeb opened the fridge and began removing ingredients. “Can I ask you something?”

Nate didn’t even flinch. “Ask away.” He’d already relived what was probably the worst session he’d experienced at the camp.

I’m not going to fall apart. Not now.

Zeeb was right. For the first time, it felt as though he was truly making progress.

“Your family… you’ve never tried to look ’em up? See if you’re an uncle? It’s possible, right? Assuming you have brothers ‘n’ sisters.”

Nate perched on the arm of the couch. “I have two sisters, Belinda and Naomi.”And when was the last time I thought about them?“I haven’t seen either of them since I was a teenager.”

Zeeb waved an onion at him. “Hey, it goes both ways, y’know. They haven’t tried to find you, have they?”

“And how would they do that?”

He rolled his eyes. “They’re called private investigators. And if they’re worth their salt, they can find anyone.” He frowned. “My dad was the same. I ain’t heard from him since I left.”

“Me neither, but you know what? That just reinforces what I already know.” Nate let out a heavy sigh. “Caleb Streeting wants nothing to do with me.”

“Your dad?”

“Yup.”

Zeeb blinked. “That your real name? Streeting?”

Nate smiled. “No, my real name is Caldwell. I changed it, legally. They can keep their name. I want no part of it.” He pointed to the box of eggs. “You want me to beat those up?”

Zeeb nodded. “You don’t mind onions in your omelet? I try to make it as healthy as I can, you know, throwin’ in some veggies.”

Nate bit back a smile. “And then you eat your own weight in Matt’s home fries every morning.”

Zeeb gave him a mock glare. “Sure, but I work it all off during the day.” He patted his stomach. “You feel that. Not flabby. Firm.”

For the briefest of moments, Nate wanted to do just that.

Except feeling Zeeb’s flat stomach would’ve felt…

Weird? Too intimate?

The thought didn’t stop his heartbeat from quickening, however.

Zeeb resumed his task of chopping onions, slicing ham, and grating cheese, while Nate broke four eggs into a bowl and whisked them with a fork. It was a tiny kitchen area below the mezzanine where his bed sat, and their shoulders touched as they worked.

Nate didn’t mind that for a minute.

“How old are your sisters?”

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