Making Sense (25 page)

Something lifted from him, the huge, oppressive weight that had been pressing on his soul since he left that rainy night so long ago. And by the look in Ian’s eyes, Nate knew his father was aware of it. It was as if someone had unlocked the window to the future, throwing back shutters and letting the light stream in. He looked over at Freya and smiled, and he could see in her answering smile of joy that she understood.

He looked back at his father.
 

Ian frowned. “Why are you here? Do you live in Wellington?”

Nate nodded. “Yes. Aidan found me. He brought you here because he hoped I’d agree to see you.”

Ian glanced at his youngest son, then back to Nate. “And you came.”

“He told me you were sick.”

Ian gave a bitter laugh. “Yes, a brain tumour. Kind of ironic, I suppose.” His eyes met Nate’s. “I suppose you think I deserve it. Have you come here to laugh in my face?”

Nate waited for a surge of triumph, or glee, or any other negative emotion, but nothing was forthcoming, only pity for his father for suffering from the terrible disease. “Nobody deserves cancer, Dad, no matter what they’ve done.”

Ian stared at him. He let out a long sigh, and his arrogance seemed to crumble, leaving him sad and sorrowful, a shell of a man. “I don’t like you seeing me like this.”

Nate walked forward to stand beside the bed. “I came here to make peace with you,” he said quietly. “It’s been three years now, and it’s time I moved on. That’s why I’m here.”

Ian looked up at him. “Are you coming home with us?”

“No, Dad. My life is here now, with my job, and with Freya.” He looked at the old, weak man before him, and welcomed the compassion and strength that flooded through him. “But before you go back, I want to do something for you.”

Ian stared at him. Liz gasped. Nate glanced at Aidan, who’d gone white, and Freya, whose eyes had widened. Nate gestured for his father to sit up. Ian did so, struggling to lift himself, and Nate helped him. When Ian finally leaned back on the pillows, Nate sat on the bed beside him.

He looked Ian Travers deep in the eyes. It wasn’t easy. Remnants of the young man he’d used to be flickered inside him as he looked at the man who’d caused him so much misery. He knew his father hadn’t caused all of his problems. He shouldn’t have had the power he’d been given without someone to train him and teach him how to use it. It was no wonder he’d gone off the rails, eaten up with arrogance and fear and confusion. But still, his father hadn’t helped with his fixation with money and his constant pressure to make his son bigger and better and more famous. Nate had changed, but the old feelings were still there, with claws so deep, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be free of them entirely.

He wanted to be. And this was the first step.
 

But he needed a bit of help.

He turned and held his hand out to Freya. She came forward hesitantly, taking his hand, standing beside him quietly. She’d be there for him afterward, would take him home and keep the wolves of doubt at bay. Nate closed his eyes. He sat there for a while, remembering Ash’s instructions to ask his spirit guides for help and protection, enfolding himself in healing white light, letting Freya’s calm affection wash over him, filling himself with her love.

Then, eventually, he let Freya go and put his hands on his father’s head.

Even at seven in the evening, the February sun was still hot, and Freya knew her cheeks would be pink in the morning, with more freckles scattering her nose. Lambton Quay was busy, Mac’s Brewbar heaving with people enjoying the friendly atmosphere.

She sipped her ice-cold beer and studied the man sitting opposite her. Nate had his eyes closed, his face tipped up to the sun. She observed him quietly, still slightly in awe of him after what she’d witnessed in the hotel room that afternoon. She’d watched him heal his father, and it had been an experience the like of which she’d never seen before, and wasn’t sure she’d ever see again. Nate had sat there for about fifteen minutes, calm and concentrating, breathing deeply, while Ian lay limp and unresponsive under his hands, his skin tainted with the sickly yellowish-grey tinge of the dying.

And then something had happened. Outside, the rain had stopped and the clouds had parted, and Freya had watched the sun stream through a gap in the curtains, falling across the two men on the bed and showering them in gold. Ian gasped, but Nate didn’t move, his breathing deepening, his head dipping, although his hands remained on his father’s head, one on the crown, one cupping the back of his skull.

Ian’s eyes had flown open, though, his gaze fixing on his son’s face, and he’d shuddered, his fingers clawing at the bedcovers, but still Nate hadn’t released him. He’d continued to sit there as sweat poured down Ian’s face, soaking his pyjamas, and Freya had known she was witnessing a miracle.

Afterward, she’d wondered whether Nate would want to stay and talk to his family, but Ian had fallen into a deep sleep, and Nate had been keen to leave. He’d kissed his mother, hugged his brother and then walked out of the hotel a different man.

She studied him now, knowing he’d finally let go of his past, and feeling a rush of pleasure at the thought that they were both free. That morning, before they’d left to go to her parents’ house, Nate had told her that he wanted to go away with her. Not forever, just for a while, maybe six months or so, to travel and work in another country with her, helping her to heal those less fortunate than themselves. She’d known that the possibility of such an event depended on whether they could sort out their problems. But they had, and tomorrow, they’d begin making plans. Tonight, however, they were going to celebrate.

He opened one eye now and looked at her, squinting in the sun. “Stop watching me. You’re giving me goose bumps.”

She grinned. “I’m thinking about what I’m going to do to you tonight, when we get back to the privacy of our own room.”

“I know. That’s what’s giving me goose bumps.”

She laughed, reaching out to hold his hand. He interlinked his fingers with hers, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “Will your father be all right now?” she asked. “Is the cancer gone?” It was the first time they’d spoken about it since they’d left. Freya had felt overawed about the experience, and Nate had been thoughtful, quiet, needing time, she felt, to think about what had happened in the room.

“I don’t know.” He sipped his beer then studied the label. “He’ll have to go for a scan when he gets back and find out.”

“Did you feel like it had gone?”

“Yes, I think so.” He met her gaze, slightly amused. “Seriously, Freya, goose bumps.”

She laughed, knowing her admiration was showing in her eyes. “It was an amazing thing to watch. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He frowned. “It was different from what I’d experienced before too. Stronger. More powerful. I don’t know if it’s because it was my father, or because of what I came to realise.”

“What was that?”

“That it’s all about love,” he said simply. “I never made the connection before, stupid as it sounds. I knew all about energy and auras and stuff like that, but I never guessed that the thing that drove the energy—the source of the power—was love. Ash tried to tell me, but I just didn’t get it—I was too eaten up with hurt and resentment and fear. But standing in that room, with you at my side, I finally understood that I couldn’t do anything until I forgave my father, forgave myself in fact, and let the love I felt for him replace all the negative feelings. It was as if something clicked, you know? Like everything up until then had been in black and white, and suddenly it was in colour.”

Freya remembered the shaft of golden light that had fallen across him in the room and shivered.
 

“You helped me realise that,” he said, leaning forward, taking her hand. “You’re my guiding star, Freya. I feel like we could heal the world, you and I.”

“You and I. That sounds good.” She smiled. “We make sense, Nate. I’m so glad we were able to solve our problems and move on.”

He pulled her toward him across the table and slipped a hand to the back of her head, capturing her lips with his own. Freya gave herself up to the kiss, enjoying the play of his lips across hers, the warm brush of his tongue, the soft graze of his teeth on her bottom lip.

Eventually, he pulled back and gestured to her beer. “Drink up.”

“Why? What’s the rush?” she asked innocently.

He tipped his head, his eyes sparkling with amusement and passion. “I fancy making sense right now. If you’re up for it, that is.”

“Oh, I’m always up for it with you,” she said, breathless, and let him take her hand and lead her toward the car, ready to head home for a night of summer loving.

About the Author

Serenity Woods lives in the sub-tropical Northland of New Zealand with her wonderful husband and gorgeous teenage son. She writes fun, flirty, and sexy romances in a variety of romance sub-genres. The Sensual Healing series reflects her interest in psychic talents such as contacting those who have “crossed-over”, spiritual healing and other gifts using the indefinable “sixth sense”.

She’s won several romance writing competitions and is a member of the Romance Writers of New Zealand. She would much rather immerse herself in reading or writing romance than do the dusting and ironing, which is why it’s not a great idea to pop round if you have any allergies. You can check out all her books at
www.serenitywoodsromance.com

Look for these titles by Serenity Woods

Now Available:

Something Blue

White-Hot Christmas

Seven Sexy Sins

Sensual Healing

An Uncommon Sense

Coming Soon:

Six Naughty Nights

The road to passion is paved with guilty pleasures.

Seven Sexy Sins

© 2012 Serenity Woods

Faith Hillman is in a bit of a pickle. She’s been commissioned to write a series of magazine articles on spicing up your love life. She’s got the theme—the “Seven Sexy Sins”—but there’s one major problem. She hasn’t experienced any of them.

Ever since Faith’s older brother gave Rusty Thorne a black eye for kissing her on her eighteenth birthday, he’s kept his distance, waiting for the right time to make his move. This is it. She needs a research partner? He’s the man for the job.

When sex-on-legs Rusty offers his services, Faith is all over it—with one caveat. The notorious heartbreaker must sign a confidentiality contract. Just to keep him safe from her brother’s wrath, of course…and her heart off Rusty’s long list of conquests.

As they work their wicked way through the list, the implications of the contract hit Rusty as hard as the handcuffs binding his wrists to the bed. It isn’t just Faith’s touch that rocks his world. It’s the way his heart likes it that blows his defenses out of the water. And makes him wonder, when the contract ends, if he can bear to let her go.

Warning: Includes rebellious hero who enjoys inserting Tab A into Slots B, C, and even occasionally D. Also includes highly inappropriate use of a Mars Bar.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Seven Sexy Sins:

Faith stared at him, her mouth falling open. “What are you saying, exactly?”

“You need to do some research for your articles. And I’m happy to help.”

“You want to help me research the seven sexy sins? Personally? Like, not in books?”

“Absolutely. Sounds like great fun.” They studied each other for a moment. Eventually Rusty gave a short laugh. “You needn’t look quite so shocked.” His eyes twinkled. “Don’t you find me attractive?”

She gave him a wry look. “Of course I do—you know you’re sex on legs. That’s hardly the point.”

“So what is the point?”

“Dan would kill you if he knew you’d even suggested this.”

“Toby suggested it—he didn’t kill him.”

“Toby wasn’t serious.”

Rusty snorted. “Of course he was. He’d give his right arm to get you into bed.”

Shock rippled through her. “What are you talking about? I’m just Dan’s little sister. I’m hardly the target of anyone’s sexual fantasies.”

“Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

“I…” She looked down at herself before looking back up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re not twelve anymore. You’re not even fifteen. You’re a grown woman, with all the relevant…attributes. You must be aware every guy at the party tonight fantasised about seeing you naked at some point.”

“Rusty!” Her cheeks grew hot. Inside, however, she glowed at the thought that he saw her as an adult and not only as Dan’s younger sibling.

He laughed. “Faith, honestly. Are you that naive?”

She looked down at her hands.
Yes
, she thought,
I am that naive
. In spite of the fact that she advised women more than twice her age on her blog, and she wasn’t a virgin, she knew she was more innocent than most girls in their twenties. She was the youngest of their crowd, and she’d thought they’d always seen her as the baby. She’d never considered they saw her as a sexual possibility, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.