Nash (Marked Men #4)(65)

He coughed again and it made his entire thin frame shake and quake. “You aren’t going to find another Cora. She’s one of a kind, and once she’s ready, she’ll be back. I want you to call this girl I met the last time I was in Vegas. I was doing a convention there and she was one of the pinup models there for the guys to take pictures with.”

I snorted out a laugh. “I need a business major not a model.”

“You need someone who can handle all the bad attitude you guys throw around and that fits in with the rest of the shop. Someone with heart and a certain badassness. She was smart, she was beautiful. I took her info for a reason. Call her and see if she would be interested in coming out for an interview.”

I just wanted to make him happy, so I agreed. “If you say so.”

“I do. I might be sick, but I still know what makes that shop run. Plus I think she might be more inclined to come help you guys out and make the shop a success than anyone else you’re going to just happen upon.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because the past ties us all together, Nash. None of us would be where we are now without the things that happened to us back then. Her name is Salem Cruz. Tell her I gave you her info and maybe mention she should look up the shop’s website so she can check out the artists’ page.”

He was being cryptic and evasive, but that was pretty typical Phil-speak, so I didn’t question it. Besides, he changed the subject.

“How’s your pretty nurse?”

That was a good question. I didn’t have the first clue how she was. Ever since she spent the night at the hospital with me while we all waited on Cora and the baby, she had been slightly evasive. We were still spending time together, still spent the night together as often as either of us could swing it with our busy schedules, but there was something there now, some kind of distance, some kind of shield she had up, and even though I didn’t want to admit it to myself because I was in deep now, it felt like she was drifting away from me.

I wanted to ask her, wanted to make her admit we were into each other, that this thing between us was serious, and after almost three months she had to see that I was committed to being with her and no one else. But instead of being closer, she seemed to want more space between us. She hadn’t even let me do anything for her on Valentine’s Day. It was a difficult situation, and while I had no problem pushing her into bed, making her see and feel how perfect I thought she was, out of bed I was seriously worried that if I tried to make her put a label on, tried to force her to admit she cared about me beyond what I could make her feel in the dark, she would leave.

I got that she wanted to be careful, that she wasn’t fully convinced she could trust me … trust any guy, really. I couldn’t blame her. She had told me about her dad and his girlfriend and about some guy she had been involved with while she was in college, and how both cases of infidelity had left lasting marks on her already distrustful soul. I wanted to shake some sense into her. I had worked so hard to get close to her, there was no way I was going to screw it up by sticking my dick in the first willing female that came along, but I just couldn’t seem to get her to believe that.

She sort of glossed over the situation with the guy in college, but when she talked about her father, about the way her family had been so close, about the way her mom had gone off the deep end in the wake of his betrayal, I could hear in her voice how hard that had been for her. His unfaithfulness had cut not just her mother but all of the women in the Ford household deeply enough to leave lasting scars. She talked a good game about tolerating him and the choices he made, about turning the other cheek to keep the peace and to keep him in her life, but the resentment was there underneath every word she spoke. I couldn’t say that I faulted her for that, because even from the outside looking in, I could see her dad had done a shitty thing and left the family in the lurch. I just didn’t know how Saint was ever going to get to a place where she could let it all go, put her faith in the fact that I wasn’t like that … if she didn’t come to terms with the fact that people could be fallible, even people we had looked up to for our entire lives. The resentment she held on to was justified, but if she couldn’t figure out what to do with it, I didn’t know what that meant for us going forward.

Her father had disappointed her, solidified that foundation of mistrust I had broken ground on years ago, and I wasn’t sure how to make her see that I would do anything within my power to keep from letting her down like that again. I was not her dad, nor would I ever want to be the kind of man that threw his loving family over for a quick piece.

“She’s difficult.”

He laughed, an actual laugh, and it made me smile down at the floor. I felt him reach out and he put one of his thin hands on the crown of my bent head. I closed my eyes and felt my breath shudder in my chest.

“That’s the catchphrase of your life at the moment, Nash. ‘Difficult.’ You are a strong man, a good man, and you can handle anything life throws at you, no matter how difficult it may be. I want you to know, this man—the man you are now—he is a man you can be proud of. You are the greatest thing I ever created. Don’t doubt it.”

Well, shit, if that didn’t just make me want to bawl all over the place. I had to clench my hands hard into fists to keep all the emotion down.

“All I ever wanted was for my mom to tell me that. Now I know hearing it from you—the person that got me here—is a million times more valuable. Thanks, Phil.”