Page 68 of The Art of Scandal

“What does that even mean?” Nathan reached for her hands. “My mother never left the way you did. But there were times when she was so bored with her life that she might as well have been gone. I never knew her when she was passionate about something. I never learned how to fight for what I wanted. I didn’t have examples of that. But being around you these last few months has made me into a man I never knew existed. And if Faith is as brilliant and brave as you say she is, it’s because you raised her.”

Rachel could feel herself recoiling from his praise. She was a cautionary tale, not a source of inspiration. And never a good mother. But how would she even know what that meant? The only thing Ramona taught her was that good mothers didn’t leave. But now here was Nathan, someone’s son, telling her there was more to good parenting than being present. She could be a safe place. She could be a warrior. She could be the roots that her daughter craved.

Rachel felt like he’d rummaged through the truth of her and cut away the heaviest parts. Her quiet “Thank you” felt inadequate. She climbed into his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck, and repeated, “Thank you,” with her love woven through the words. Nathan pressed his ear to her chest. To her heart. Then he closed his eyes and listened.

Nathan woke up twice that night. The first time was on the tail end of a dream. He was in Mexico, swimming with his cousins. They called him flaco, like when he was smaller, and warned him about swimming out too far. “Come back, or you’re going to miss it,” they yelled. “You’ll be too late.”

He tried yelling back, “Too late for what?” but he couldn’t speak and swim at the same time. He’d just decided to turn back when the ocean pulled him under.

He opened his eyes expecting a blue haze of salty sea, but instead he saw Rachel’s hair splayed against the satin pillowcase he’d bought for her. He slid a hand around her waist and moved closer, until her back was against his chest. She woke like he did, with the grogginess of an interrupted dream, and he wedged against her until every inch of his body touched some part of her skin. He’d never fallen asleep seared to another person before. It was sweaty, hot, and addictively uncomfortable. He didn’t want to move away. He didn’t want it to end.

The second time he woke was to the sound of a door slamming. He reached for Rachel, but the bed was empty. His stomach did a hard flip. Then he saw her standing next to the window, staring with clear agitation.

“I think your brother is here.”

That’s when Nathan knew that it was over. Like in his dream, they had swum too far.

He put on jeans and grabbed a T-shirt. Rachel started to follow, but he shook his head and pressed a finger to his lips. Maybe Joe thought he was alone. Maybe he would assume Nathan brought a date to the lake without telling anyone. The maybes ran through his mind as he took the stairs down to the living room two at a time, but Joe’s expression killed them instantly. His eyes were flint. He said, “Put your shirt on,” with a coldness that Nathan had only heard once in his life before.

Joe had a pen that Abuelita had given him when he graduated from college. It was a monogrammed Montblanc that he carried around like a witch cradling a magic wand. He would use it to forge their mother’s signature when Nathan brought home another failing test grade. Nathan had loved that pen. He loved the onyx color and the clean lines of ink it left on paper. He had loved how Joe’s penmanship would gleam silver in the light as he wrote out their shared lie. And most of all, he had loved the fact that every now and then Joe would let him use it. He would entrust this beautiful thing that symbolized all his accomplishments to his little brother without a warning to be careful, or to put it back where it belonged. And Nathan had been careful—right up until the day he wasn’t. It took him three days to finally admit that he lost it. Joe hadn’t yelled. He’d stared at Nathan with stony eyes and said, “It’s just a fucking pen,” in that same icy tone.

That look was worse than yelling. It was Joe, giving up and calcifying his expectations of his little brother.I guess this is who you are.And standing in front of Joe at the lake house, Nathan couldn’t argue. Instead, he shrugged into his shirt.

Joe looked past him, at the stairs. “Is she here?”

“Is who—”

“Don’t lie to me. Matt Abbott told Mia that Rachel was missing. She asked if I’d seen you.” He finally met Nathan’s eyes. “I said of course not. What would Nate have to do with Rachel Abbott going missing? She probably thinks I’m an idiot.”

“Mia knows?” Nathan winced at how guilty it sounded. “What did Matt say to her?”

Joe’s face was red. “You mean does he know that his wife’s cheating on him with the local laundry boy? Pretty sure he doesn’t.”

Nathan’s guilt vanished. If Joe wasn’t pulling punches, neither would he. “He’s the one having an affair. I saw him with his mistress at the anniversary party.”

“And that makes it okay?” Joe shook his head. “What the hell has she gotten you into?”

Joe looked up at the sound of footsteps. Nathan turned to see Rachel, dressed in the baggy sweatshirt and leggings he’d bought for her. “You can ask me,” she said. “My answers will probably disappoint you, but it’s not fair to take it out on him.”

Joe shook his head. “The whole way up here, I didn’t believe it. Mom said you two were close, and I thought, well that’s great. My brother needs a mentor. But then I got the notification about the alarm out here being disabled. And then I remembered that Nate’s seeing some woman, and it’scomplicated. You two are terrible at covering your tracks.”

“We weren’t trying to,” Rachel said. She walked down the stairs and stopped before she reached Nathan. He wanted to build a wall between her and his brother. “Nathan’s right, this wasn’t an affair.”

Nathan could sense Joe winding up to say something cruel and raised his hand. “We didn’t come out here on purpose. It was car trouble. I blew a tire on the east highway.”

“That was Friday,” Joe said. “It doesn’t take thirty-six hours to fix a tire.”

Nathan shifted to one side, blocking his view of Rachel. “The rest is none of your business.”

Joe laughed. “You’re kidding, right? What did you two plan to do, run away together?” Joe paused. “You can’t do that, Nate,” he said, his anger fading into concern. “You can’t disappear again. Not now. Dad—” He swallowed hard and looked at Rachel. “We need him here.”

Rachel touched Nathan’s shoulder. He reached for her hand, but she stepped past him to face Joe. “We’re not running away,” she said. “And I’m sorry about your father.”

“If you’re sorry, maybe don’t wreck what’s left of our family before he’s gone.” Joe looked at Nathan. “What do you think will happen when word gets out that you’ve been fucking Matt Abbott’s wife? That guy is on every cable news show in the country. So is she.” He flung a hand at Rachel. “They’ll rip you both apart along with anyone else who gets caught in the crossfire. Me. Mom. Beto.” He looked at Rachel. “You have adaughter—”

“That’s enough,” Nathan yelled. Joe looked shocked. Nathan had never yelled at his brother before. “Joe, you need to leave.”

“No,” Rachel said, facing Nathan. “I should leave. If Matt called Mia, it means he knows something. I have to go.”

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