The Captain's Dirty Little Secret

Chapter 66: Chapter 66 - Nathan Prescott

ZAC’S POV

Zac saw the Lamborghini before he saw Nathan.

That was how Nathan did things.

Show up loud, expensive, and annoying, then act like everyone else was weird for noticing.

The car sat in the driveway like it owned the house. Matte black. Low to the ground. A Lamborghini Huracán, because apparently coming home in something normal would have killed him.

Zac parked his truck behind it and stared through the windshield.

Great.

Nathan was home.

His older brother had been gone for months, and Zac’s first feeling was not excitement.

It was irritation.

Then guilt, because that made him sound like an asshole.

Then irritation again, because guilt did not move the Lamborghini blocking half the driveway.

The porch lights were on. The curtains were open. His dad’s SUV sat near the garage, straight as a ruler, because even the cars in this house had to follow orders.

Zac looked at the Lamborghini again.

It was not like he had nothing.

He had his truck. He had the black BMW M4 Competition sitting in the garage, the one his parents gave him when senior year started like it was normal to hand an seventeen-year-old keys to something that expensive.

The same car he had told Roxie was his mom’s car because saying, My parents gave me a BMW for senior year, would have sounded disgusting when Roxie was pretending not to worry about money.

So no, Zac was not poor.

He was not deprived.

He was not some tragic guy crying in a mansion because his brother got a nicer toy.

He knew how stupid that would sound.

But the Lamborghini still pissed him off.

His BMW had come with rules. Keep your grades up. Don’t get suspended. Don’t embarrass us. Remember who you are.

It felt less like a gift and more like a shiny leash with leather seats.

Nathan’s Lamborghini looked like a trophy.

Like Dad had handed him the keys and said, You did it right.

Zac hated that it bothered him.

He killed the engine and grabbed his practice bag from the passenger seat. His shirt stuck to his back. His shoulders hurt. His knuckles still looked bad from Steve’s face, and he should have iced them again, but the powderpuff game had happened.

Roxie had happened.

Roxie in grass-stained knees and that stupid victorious smile.

Roxie catching the winning pass.

Roxie looking at him in the end zone like she knew he wanted to hug her.

He had offered a handshake instead, because the whole school had been staring, and he did not need Mason chanting like a drunk idiot in broad daylight.

Still, his hand remembered her hand.

That was embarrassing.

His thumb having memories was not something he had asked for.

Zac shut the truck door harder than he needed to.

The front door opened before he reached the porch.

Mia came flying out first.

”Zac!”

He dropped his bag just in time to catch her before she slammed into his ribs.

”Careful,” he said, hugging her with one arm.

”Nate’s home!”

”I saw the tiny car.”

”It’s not tiny. It’s cool.”

”It looks like a cockroach.”

Mia giggled into his hoodie. ”You’re jealous.”

”I drive a truck.”

”Exactly.”

That was rude, but she was seven, so he let it go.

Mostly.

Zac looked past her into the foyer.

His mom stood near the stairs in a cream sweater, hair curled, makeup perfect, eyes shiny like Nathan had just won a war by himself.

His dad stood beside her with his hands behind his back, shoulders straight, chin lifted.

And there was Nathan.

Leaning against the entry table like he had never left.

Older. Broader. Hair shorter. Face harder.

Same eyes.

Same Prescott stare.

Nathan even stood like Dad. Feet planted. Shoulders back. Like the room owed him respect before he said anything.

Nathan smiled first.

”Well,” Nathan said. ”QB1 made it home.”

Zac kept one arm around Mia. ”And here I thought the driveway got uglier by itself.”

Mia gasped. ”Zac.”

Nathan laughed once. ”Still charming.”

”Still parking like an idiot?”

His mom’s smile tightened. ”Zachary.”

Full name already.

Thirty seconds in, and he was losing.

Nathan pushed off the table and looked him over. His eyes stopped on Zac’s hand.

Zac shoved it into his pocket.

Too late.

”What happened there?” Nathan asked.

”Football.”

”You punch the ball now?”

”New play.”

”Sounds advanced.”

”It is. You wouldn’t get it.”

Dad’s jaw moved.

Tiny shift.

Bad sign.

Zac felt the air change before anyone said anything else. Mia felt it too because she stopped hanging on him and looked up.

”Go upstairs,” Dad said.

”But Nate just got home.”

”Upstairs, Mia.”

She pouted. ”That’s unfair.”

”Mia.”

She hugged Zac tighter for one second, then ran inside. Before she went upstairs, she pointed at Nathan.

”You still owe me chocolate.”

Nathan’s face softened. ”It’s in my bag.”

Mia lit up, then sprinted up the stairs.

Zac watched her go.

When he looked back, Nathan was still staring at his hand.

Dad was too.

Mom looked like she already had a headache.

Perfect.

The Lamborghini was not the problem.

Nathan being home was not even the problem.

The problem was Zac walking into his own house and already feeling like he was on defense.

Dad’s voice came low.

”What happened with Steve Harris?”

Zac’s stomach tightened.

There it was.

Steve Harris.

Nathan looked between them. ”Who’s Steve Harris?”

”No one,” Zac said.

Dad’s eyes hardened. ”Do not lie in my house.”

Zac almost laughed.

That was rich.

”He tried to get into Roxie’s room,” Zac said.

The foyer went quiet.

Nathan’s face changed for half a second.

Mom closed her eyes.

That pissed Zac off more than if she had yelled.

Like he had dragged dirt across her floor.

Like Roxie being scared was inconvenient.

Like Steve was only a problem because Zac had hit him hard enough for adults to start calling.

Dad stepped closer. ”And you decided to beat him.”

Zac’s jaw tightened. ”I decided to stop him.”

”You are not the police.”

”No,” Zac said. ”I was the one she called because nobody else came.”

Nathan looked between them again. ”Wait. So you beat up some guy over a girl?”

Zac turned to him slowly.

Bad move, Nate.

Very bad move.

”Don’t say it like that.”

Nathan lifted his hands. ”I’m asking.”

”No, you’re not.”

Nathan’s mouth curled. ”Still sensitive when it comes to girls, huh?”

Zac took one step forward before he could think better of it.

His body was already hot. Practice, anger, bruised hand, his dad looking at him like Zac was the mess instead of the guy outside Roxie’s window.

Nathan looked him up and down.

Then he smiled like he knew exactly where to hit.

”Relax, QB1. Wouldn’t want you bruising before your next little game. God forbid the town loses its favorite toy.”

Zac went still.

Football.

Nathan always did that.

Acted like the one thing Zac was good at was a joke. Like it was easy. Like Friday nights were lights, girls, and people chanting his name.

Like Zac did not feel the whole town sitting on his chest every time he stepped onto the field.

Zac’s voice dropped. ”Say that again.”

Dad snapped, ”Zachary.”

Nathan’s smile got smaller.

Meaner.

”What?” Nathan asked. ”You going to throw a flag?”

Zac shoved him.

Hard.

Nathan slammed back into the entry table, knocking a picture frame flat.

Mom screamed.

Dad barked his name.

Nathan looked down at Zac’s hands on his chest.

Then he laughed.

And swung.

His fist caught Zac across the mouth.

Pain flashed hot and fast.

Zac hit him back before his brain caught up.

Nathan stumbled sideways into the wall, then came back at him with both hands. Zac grabbed his shirt. Nathan grabbed Zac’s hoodie. They crashed into the entry table so hard the bowl of keys jumped and spilled across the floor.

Mom screamed again.

”Stop it!”

Zac heard her.

He did not stop.

Nathan drove his shoulder into Zac’s chest and shoved him toward the stairs. Zac’s back hit the railing. Something cracked. Wood maybe. Mom was going to lose her mind over that later.

Nathan swung again.

Zac ducked, then shoved him off.

”Enough!” Dad shouted.

Neither of them listened.

Nathan came at him like he had been waiting for this longer than tonight.

That punched through Zac’s anger for half a second.

Nathan was not fighting like a guy surprised by a shove.

He was fighting like the shove finally gave him permission.

Zac knew that feeling.

It made him angrier.

Nathan caught him near the eye. Zac saw white for a second, then grabbed Nathan around the middle and drove him into the bottom of the stairs. They hit hard. Nathan cursed. Zac’s elbow slammed into something sharp.

”Boys!” Mom screamed.

Boys.

Like they were ten and twelve fighting over a controller.

Nathan shoved Zac’s face away with one hand. ”Get off me.”

”Make me.”

”Still a dumbass.”

”Still a jealous shit.”

Nathan’s face changed.

Nathan shoved him hard enough that Zac slipped on the scattered keys. His shoulder hit the floor. Nathan got one knee under him and swung again, but Zac blocked it and grabbed his wrist.

Dad hauled Zac up first.

He always grabbed Zac first.

His father’s hand clamped around the back of Zac’s hoodie and yanked him away hard enough that the collar dug into his throat.

”Enough!”

Zac struggled once out of instinct, breathing hard, blood warm on his lip.

Nathan pushed himself up from the floor, one hand pressed to his ribs, face red, hair messed up, eyes bright with anger.

Mom rushed to him.

”Nate, baby, are you okay?”

Zac stopped moving.

Baby.

He could not remember the last time she had called him that.

Nathan looked embarrassed. ”I’m fine.”

”You’re bleeding.”

”I’m fine, Mom.”

She touched his cheek anyway.

Zac stood there with blood in his mouth and his father’s fist in his hoodie.

Nobody checked his face.

That should not have surprised him.

It still did.

Dad shoved Zac back a step.

Zac caught himself against the wall and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

His knuckles smeared red.

Mom turned on him, eyes wet and furious. ”What is wrong with you?”

Zac laughed once.

It came out ugly.

”What’s wrong with me?”

”You attacked your brother.”

”He hit me too.”

”You shoved him first,” Dad said.

”He was running his mouth.”

”And you proved his point.”

Zac hated that it landed.

Nathan stood straight, breathing hard. ”Dad, I—”

”No,” Dad snapped. ”You just got home. You should not have to walk into this.”

Nathan shut his mouth.

Mom took Nathan’s wrist and checked his knuckles like he was the only one in the room with hands.

Zac watched her.

His lip hurt.

His eye throbbed.

His shoulder was probably going to look terrible tomorrow.

None of that was the problem.

The problem was standing in a house full of people and knowing exactly who deserved comfort.

”You caused this,” Dad said.

Zac looked at him. ”Nathan swung at me.”

”I am talking about all of it.”

Zac’s chest tightened.

”All of what?”

”With Steve Harris. With that girl. With this family. You react like a child and expect everyone else to clean it up.”

That girl.

Zac’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

”Her name is Roxie.”

Mom’s mouth tightened. ”Zac, please.”

”No.” He looked at her. ”You all keep saying that girl like she’s some random girl. Her name is Roxie.”

Dad stepped closer. ”You put your hands on a grown man.”

”He tried to climb into her bedroom.”

”You put your hands on him badly enough that people are calling this house.”

”Maybe next time he’ll call first before crawling through a girl’s window.”

Mom gasped. ”That is enough.”

”No, it’s not.” Zac’s voice rose. ”You’re all acting like the biggest problem is that Steve got hurt.”

Nathan looked at him then.

Really looked.

Zac ignored him.

”The biggest problem is that Roxie called me because she was scared out of her mind and nobody in her house helped her,” Zac said. ”That’s the problem.”

Dad’s face hardened. ”You do not get to decide how this family handles legal trouble.”

”This family?” Zac laughed. ”You mean your reputation.”

His father moved so fast that Mom stepped between them.

”Arthur,” she said, voice sharp.

Dad stopped, breathing through his nose.

Zac stood there, chest heaving, and part of him wanted his father to swing.

That was messed up.

He knew that was messed up.

But at least then everyone would stop pretending this house was better than Roxie’s just because the floors were polished.