Nate went to the place inside his mind where only self-loathing lived. In this place, which was a small compartment in his mind that only existed of slate-gray walls, he didn’t have to feel. He didn’t have to think. He didn’t have to listen to anyone, or wonder what would happen to him now.
He could just be.
When the back door of the van opened, Nate didn’t even look toward it. Someone would come in and make a big sigh and tell him he’d screwed up. As if he didn’t already know. And he hadn’t just messed up with the Bureau. He’d seriously compromised Connor’s safety, and he’d put Ginger in a no-win situation, and he honestly just wanted to go back to River Bay.
At River Bay, he knew who to be. He knew how to act. He knew what to eat, and what time that would happen. He knew how to stand at attention for count, and he knew how to count down the days until this entire nightmare would end.
Everything at the ranch had grown increasingly complicated. Maybe he simply wasn’t cut out for a regular life.
The whiff of sunscreen and sand met his nose, and he got jolted out of the gray place. He looked up, and Ginger sat down across from him in the narrow space. Surprise filled him, and he actually looked to see if the guards were going to let them be in there alone.
The door drifted closed, but didn’t latch, and Nate got his answer.
“Nick wouldn’t tell you, would he?”
The whole way back from the storage facility where Nate had gone to pick up Nick, the young man insisted Nate should tell Ginger everything himself. Nate wanted to, but he also knew he’d be driving into the exact situation that had happened.
“I had to call the Bureau,” Ginger said.
“I know.” Nate nodded, wishing so many things could be different. But he’d spent plenty of time in his life wishing he’d have made a different decision. Done something just a little different. Taken a different way to work one day, or not answered the phone when Oscar had called the first time.
So many seemingly small things had brought his life to this point. Including a small thing like reaching out and holding Ginger’s hand. He did that, surprised and amazed that she let him touch her.
She did pull away after only a few seconds, though, and Nate felt his world shift one more time that day.
“Okay,” he said. “What’d they give you? Ten minutes?”
“Yes.”
“And we’ve been sitting here for at least one.” He drew in a deep breath. “So this is a nine-month story in nine minutes.” He looked up and met her eyes, because he didn’t want to be ashamed of himself anymore. And this particular thing wasn’t illegal.
“I met Oscar Dominguez almost a year before I got indicted for investment fraud,” he said. “We did a few minor deals together, mostly so he could test me. See how I handled his money, and if I paid him out on time. All of that.”
Nate could easily see himself from five years ago. Young. Thought he was hot stuff. Rich. Good-looking. He’d felt invincible.
“I did, and we worked together well. I made money on his investment; so did he. It was a win-win.”
“This wasn’t illegal?”
“Nope. All straight up investments. Lucrative. High-risk. But legal.” He took another breath. “I’d put a larger amount of money into a pharmaceutical company for him, and it was going well. They got bought by one of the big giants, and we were all thrilled. I called to sell the stocks, which usually happened by the close of business. It did, and we were set to cash out. I had a dummy account for cash outs. That way, I could take my cut of the profits, and then transfer the rest to the client. It kept things neat.” He sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes as he remembered the day. He could see it clearly in his head, as clearly as if it had just happened yesterday.
“It was raining that day in Austin,” he said, his voice almost a ghost of itself. “I’d ducked under the eaves of a bakery when my phone dinged at me, because it was a notification of money. I saw we’d been cashed out, and all I needed to do was make the split and the deal would be done. Next thing I know, I’m shoved against the brick. My phone is gone. And I’m in handcuffs. I couldn’t finish the cash out.”
“So you’ve had the money all this time,” she said.
“I do like how smart you are,” Nate said with a smile. He opened his eyes and looked at Ginger, who did not smile back. “And yes. That money has sat in that dummy account all this time. I owed him just over twenty-six thousand dollars, and I’ve been paying him back in cash drops in a locker in the mall.”
Ginger just stared at him, unblinking. He hated the look on her face, and he hated even more than he’d put it there. He could tell she felt stupid, tricked, betrayed.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “My last drop was today, and we had this beach thing. I tried to move it, and Oscar wouldn’t. So I asked Nick to make it for me.”
“You put my cousin in danger.”
“Oscar isn’t—okay, yes.” Nate didn’t want to lie. Oscar Dominguez was absolutely dangerous if he didn’t get his money. “It was a simple pick up and drop off.”
“Obviously not.”
“Oscar was watching the lockers,” Nate said. “He didn’t like that it was Nick and not me. They took him. I went to get him. We sorted it all out. We’re done.” He made it sound like he’d gone to pick Nick up from a birthday party or something simple. Going to the storage facility had been anything but simple, especially with Connor in the car.
“Listen,” Nate said, leaning forward. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for Nick to get hurt, which he didn’t by the way. He was a little shook up, but he’s fine. Not a bruise or a scrape on him. I didn’t mean to take your truck. I didn’t mean to keep this secret from you. I just…wanted to handle this myself, and it was fine.”
“Until it wasn’t.”
“Until it wasn’t,” he conceded. “And listen, Ginger, they’re going to take Connor from me. I’m going to have to go back to River Bay or somewhere like that.” He leaned even closer to her. “Will you please take him? He knows you, and he loves you, and I’ll come get him when I’m out, and you’ll never see me again.”
Ginger balked and leaned away from him, not quite the reaction he’d been hoping for. He chided himself for being so darn hopeful all the time. But he’d imagined a scene where Ginger leaned toward him too, and maybe cradled his face in her palm, and said, “I don’t want you to go. When you get out, you’ll come stay here with me and Connor.”
Instead she asked, “Why can’t your parents take him?”
“They just can’t.” Nate shook his head, his only concern for the child. “I’ll ask Spencer.”
“Really, Nate. Why can’t your parents take him? Why did Ward name you as his guardian?”
“They’re too elderly,” he said. “My dad has a temper and colon cancer. My mom forgets things. A four-year-old paired with them would be a disaster.”
The back of the van opened, and a Unit Officer stood there. Nate didn’t know him, but he had a feeling they were going to be good friends. “Time’s up, ma’am.”
“Please,” Nate whispered, reaching out and taking Ginger’s hand again. He managed to get in one good squeeze before she pulled away.
“I can’t believe I trusted you,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” Nate said again. The words weren’t adequate, but they were all the Good Lord had given to humans. What else could Nate say? What else could he do?
He sat there and watched as Ginger climbed out of the van and walked away, his heart cracking right down the middle. In that moment, he knew he was in love with Ginger Talbot, but he was absolutely powerless to keep her in his life.
Nate got a fifteen-minute call every other day in Administrative Detention. He’d called Spencer the first day, as he’d received word that Connor had indeed stayed at Hope Eternal Ranch. He’d gotten to speak to his nephew for thirteen minutes, where he tried to reassure the child that he’d be coming back for him soon.
Sooner than Nate even knew, as he’d been assigned a hearing to review his blunder with the Residential Reentry Center where he’d been assigned.
His second call went to Nick, who talked for most of the fifteen minutes about how he’d been calling everyone in the state of Texas about getting Nate out of prison and back on the ranch.
Apparently, the Talbots had some deep pockets if the right one got involved in something they were passionate about, and Nick had somehow bonded with Nate and wanted him and Connor to get their familial happily-ever-after.
He’d talked to Connor again a few times, and once he’d tried to call Ginger, but she wouldn’t pick up his call. And that was all the answer he needed.
“You ready?”
Nate looked up at the deep voice of Warden Dickerson. “Yes, sir.” He stood, the jangling of the handcuffs in the Warden’s hands reminding Nate that he wasn’t in Admin Detention because he was leaving the facility for a fun time on a ranch somewhere along the coastal bend of Texas.
He was going to the hearing, and he fully expected to get sentenced to finish out his original punishment of six years. He’d been shaving days off because of his good behavior for years, all to have it undone by one single act.
One single decision.
It was the right one, he told himself. He couldn’t have lived with himself if Nick had been permanently injured—or worse. Ginger would’ve never forgiven him then.
She hasn’t forgiven you now, he thought as the Warden opened the cell door.
“I don’t need these, do I?” he asked, staring a hard look in Nate’s direction.
“No, sir.” He approached the warden, wishing so many things could be different.
“Nate,” Dickerson said. “I’ve done everything I can for you. I don’t know what will happen today.”
“I know,” Nate said. “I’ve drawn Billings.” And he was the toughest judge in the county.
“He’s got grandsons,” Dickerson muttered. “All I’m saying is don’t give up. You’re a good man. You came in one person, and you’re not him anymore. You did what we hope everyone will do when they come to prison.”
“What’s that?” Nate asked, surprised by this more human side of the warden. He’d never seen it before.
“You didn’t leave the same way you came in.”
Nate wanted to say he hadn’t left yet, but he couldn’t. He had left. He’d gone to Hope Eternal Ranch, and everything inside him wanted to go back there again. Brush down those horses. Pick up that hammer and fix the leaning wall of the bird blind. Hold Ginger’s hand on that dusty road, and kiss her in the shade of those windfall trees.
A tiredness pulled through his whole body as he nodded. “Thanks, Warden. I’m sorry I made you look bad.”
“Oh, you didn’t,” the warden said.
“Someone looked bad with what happened,” Nate said.
“Yeah,” Warden Dickerson said. “But not really. What we got to show the public was that our residential programs have failsafes in place, and the system works. Ginger called. We came. You got apprehended.”
“I came back,” Nate said dryly.
The Warden grinned and pocketed the handcuffs meant to go around Nate’s wrists. “And it all worked out.”
Sure, Nate thought. Everything seemed to work out for everyone but him. He knew that was his fault, though, and he was going to own the decisions he’d made that had gotten him to this point in his life.
They walked down the hall together, and the Warden handed Nate the cuffs at the exit. He couldn’t go walking around the grounds without being restrained, but the Warden let Nate put the cuffs on himself, so they weren’t terribly tight.
He rode to the courthouse, the sun reminding him that the world hadn’t come to an end. He went inside through a side door, and he sat at the table with Lawrence, who looked at him with pinched lines around his eyes, almost a glare of annoyance though Nate kept his bills paid.
Nate didn’t have to apologize to his lawyer, so he didn’t. At the same time, he’d probably cost the man a lot of sleepless nights, so he leaned close to Lawrence and said, “I’m sorry, Lawrence. How are things going with the adoption?”
“They’re on hold,” Lawrence said. “Depending on what happens today, we’ll see what I can do.”
Nate nodded, and Judge Billings came through the corner door, and everyone rose. Nate had been in court many times, and he could stand and sit without specific direction from his brain. The judge read the issue at hand, and Lawrence stood up.
“I want to hear from Nathaniel,” Judge Billings said. His eyes bored a hole into Nate’s. “Step up to the mic, son.”
It had been a very long time since anyone had called Nate “son,” but he did what the judge asked. “You left the center with the child you’ve been entrusted with?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why?”
Nate held his head high as he related the same story he’d given to Ginger, and Nick, and the Warden. His lawyer. His mother. Spencer. Ward, though his brother hadn’t responded.
“So you went to rescue the person you’d drawn into your scheme?”
“It wasn’t a scheme, Your Honor,” Nate said. “This particular investment and payout was legal. It was Oscar who didn’t want the full payment in one lump sum. I guess he can’t move that much cash safely, and that is not my fault.”
“We’ll agree to disagree on that, Mister Mulbury,” the judge said, glancing down. “All right. Do you have anyone present in the courtroom today to speak for you?”
Nate didn’t even have to check behind him. His parents wouldn’t make such a long drive for a hearing like this. Bethany had her hands full. Nate was on his own, and he felt it more keenly in that moment than any other.
“No, sir,” he said, his throat tightening.
“Yes, he does,” someone said, and Nate spun around to see Warden Dickerson pushing his way into the courtroom.
“Warden, you can’t be a character witness for an inmate,” Judge Billings said.
“I’m not,” the Warden said. He stepped to the side, and Ginger stood there.
Nate’s heart swelled so big, it stuck in the back of his throat. That blasted hope that he hadn’t managed to scrub from his soul ballooned, lighting up the room and making his spirits soar. Their eyes met, and time slowed to nothing. Everything fell away, and it was just Ginger and Nate. Nate and Ginger.
“What’s your name, ma’am?” the judge asked.
Ginger cleared her throat and tugged on the hem of her pink blouse. She’d paired it with a black pencil skirt and a sensible pair of heels. She strode forward and said, “Ginger Talbot, sir. And I’m here as a character witness for Nathaniel Mulbury.”