Heat Wave, page 7
“Everything all right?” Cap asked, and Nick didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse. Cap had noticed something off, too, which meant it wasn’t Nick overreacting.
Dad said, “Well, I think we need to—”
“Focus on the reason we’re here,” Mom said firmly, and she and Dad glanced at each other for a beat or two, having one of those silent conversations long-term couples seemed to have. “Tonight is for celebrating.” She squeezed Mary’s arm in greeting before leading Dad away toward Jazz.
“You caught that, right?” Nick said, staring at his parents. “It’s not just me?”
Mary said, “I don’t think that—”
“Yeah,” Cap said, and Mary bit her bottom lip. “I caught that.” He frowned, his mustache twitching. “Probably nothing, but with everything that’s been going on as of late, I don’t think they’d keep something from us.” He looked at Nick. “From you. They learned their lesson after the whole … you know.” He shuffled awkwardly as Mary sighed.
“Lying to me about what I could do and making me take medication that hid a major part of my life?” Nick suggested.
“That,” Mary agreed. “And you won’t hear either of us defending that decision.”
“They love you,” Cap said. “That’s not something you should ever question. They did what they thought was right. We’re not your parents, Nick, so I’m not sure how much we should get involved, but you’re allowed to be angry at what happened.”
“I don’t know how to fix it,” Nick admitted. “I think I’m getting past it, and then I’m reminded of what happened, and it starts all over again.”
“Have you thought about therapy?” Mary asked. “It seems to be helping with your father.” Jazz said something that caused both Mom and Dad to laugh loudly. “He seems happier, no?”
“Kind of hard to go to therapy and talk about anything real when people are trying to kill you and you can’t tell them that part. Makes it difficult to trust anyone. And I can’t take the chance that I’d let something slip.”
Mary frowned, brow furrowed. “That shouldn’t stop you, Nick. Doctor-patient confidentiality exists. It may take a bit of research to find a good therapist, but if that’s something you think you need, I would hope you’d bring it up. Cap goes.”
Nick glanced at Cap. “I didn’t know that.”
“Didn’t like it at first,” Cap said gruffly. “Felt weird talking to a stranger about things. It’s gotten easier. I needed it, I think. As much as I try and tell myself I’m all right with how things played out with the NCPD, that’s not exactly true. There’s a lot of anger and betrayal to work through. Haven’t said a thing about you kids,” he added quickly, “in case you were wondering.”
“I know you wouldn’t, Cap.”
“It’s helping,” Cap said quietly. “I think the same could be said about your dad. He’s keeping up with it, just like he promised you and your mom. I know you three had a rough go of it, but never doubt the love they have for you.” Cap held up his hand before Nick could interject. “Yes, I know they went about it in a terrible way, but I will always believe it came from a good place.”
Nick nodded. “So he’s happy, because he’s in therapy, and that explains everything.”
“What else could there be?” Mary asked.
To that, Nick had no answer.
* * *
The rest of the party went off without a hitch. No one crashed the Kensington home, no villain tried to destroy them while cackling manically. It was just that: a party with people who cared for each other. They laughed, they danced, they ate until they could barely move. Mateo took a break, pulling Chris onto the dance floor, much to the surprise of Nick and his friends, but apparently not to anyone else. “We do have eyes,” Aysha told Nick when he asked why she wasn’t freaking out like he was. “It’s pretty obvious. They’re smitten with each other.”
“I don’t understand anything,” Seth said faintly as Mateo dipped Chris so low his back almost touched the ground.
Jazz was the center of attention, and rightly so. The cake her parents brought out was massive, three tiers of thick white frosting over red velvet. They sang to her once again, and when they’d finished, she scrunched up her face for a moment before blowing out all the candles in one go.
He was on the makeshift dance floor—just a thick carpet on top of the stone patio—swaying side to side, holding Seth close, neither of them speaking. Nick was trying to keep track of his feet to make sure he didn’t step on Seth, but he soon gave up, letting the music wash over them. Seth barely even winced when Nick messed up, and never complained.
He startled when he felt a tap on his shoulder and looked back.
Dad was there, smiling at them. He said, “Hey, you mind if I cut in?”
Nick blinked. “You want to dance with Seth? Uh. Okay?” He glared at his dad. “If you threaten him with more dental dams or fire extinguishers, we’re gonna have words.”
“Is that right?” Dad said, lips quirking. “Words, you say.”
“So many words,” Nick threatened. “Like, all the words. I still haven’t sufficiently recovered from you trying to destroy my life.”
Dad winced, and Nick wished he’d kept his fool mouth shut. He hadn’t meant it how it sounded, but now that it was out there, he wondered if there was a kernel of truth to it. Maybe therapy wasn’t a bad idea after all. Being fluent in Nick, Seth squeezed his arms, letting him know he was there.
Nick sighed. “That’s not what I meant. Sorry. You know how it is. My mouth moves before my brain tells it to.”
“I know, kid,” Dad said. “It’s one of the things I love about you.” He shook his head. “And I don’t want to dance with Seth. Wouldn’t want him to see that I’m the upgrade over you.”
“Oh my god, why are you like this?”
“Cool your jets, kid,” Dad said. “I’m not asking your boyfriend to dance. I’m asking you.”
“Wait, really? You want to take all this for a spin, Pops? Sure you can handle it?” Yet again, he wished he could take his words back. “Okay, there was an implication there necessitating certain fic tags that would automatically make me ill, so let’s move on from that.”
“Too late,” Dad said with a huff. He began to turn away when Nick laughed and grabbed his arm.
Dad’s hands started to go to his waist, when Nick shook his head. “I get to lead.” He settled Dad’s hands on his shoulders and put his own on Dad’s waist.
“Seth?” Dad called over Nick’s shoulder. “Nick wants to lead, so can you have 911 dialed and ready? I have a feeling my feet are about to be broken.”
“You’re not funny,” Nick said with a glare.
“I really am,” Dad said, and they began to shuffle their feet awkwardly.
“So,” Nick said after four seconds of silence, far more than he was comfortable with.
“So,” Dad said.
“We’re dancing.”
“Sort of,” Dad said, wincing as Nick somehow managed to kick him in the shins.
“Should I spin you?” Nick wondered aloud. “I feel like I want to spin you.”
“Let’s not and say we did,” Dad said. Another bit of shuffling where Nick received empirical evidence that bony knees were hereditary. Then, “Good party.”
Nick sighed. “We really need to work on your small talk.”
“Yeah? Why don’t you give me a few pointers since you seem to think you’re so much better at it?”
“I don’t think it,” Nick assured him. “I know it. It’s fact.”
“Good to know, Nicky.”
He was about to tell his Dad that a spin was definitely necessary, but his brain highjacked his mouth and something else came out. “Are you happy?” he blurted, wishing almost immediately he could take the words back. He didn’t want to do this here. Now. Not in front of everyone.
Dad stopped, hands still on Nick’s shoulders. He cocked his head, blinking as if trying to clear his vision. His brow furrowed momentarily, and he glanced around as if he suddenly remembered where they were. Weird. He looked at Nick again, and that faint confusion was gone. “Of course I am, kid. I’m with you. Nowhere else I’d rather be.”
“And everything is … good?”
“Think so. Why?”
Nick shrugged. “I don’t know. Feels like I haven’t checked in with you in a bit.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“I know,” Nick said. He let out a frustrated breath. “But that shouldn’t matter. We’re a team. You and me.” He paused. “And Mom.” Of course she was included. She was part of them. He glanced over Dad’s shoulder to find her surrounded by Mary, Aysha, Jo, and Martha. But whatever they were talking about, she wasn’t paying attention. All her focus was on Nick and Dad. She smiled when she saw Nick looking at her and gave a little wave.
“We are, aren’t we?”
Nick nodded, though something tickled along his mind, a thought he couldn’t quite grasp. Faint yet adamant: Before. After. Before. After. He didn’t know what it meant, so he ignored it. “We are.”
“You certainly have a way with words, kid. Speaking of, I wanted to talk to you about your fic. What’s it called? Burning Pleasure?”
“It’s A Pleasure to Burn,” Nick hissed at him. “And why the hell were you reading that?!”
Dad laughed. “I wanted to see the darkest depths of my son’s imagination.” His smile faded slightly. “And it went much, much darker than I expected it to.”
Nick groaned, tilting his forehead against his father’s shoulder, the angle awkward. He hadn’t done this in a long time, and he was startled to realize he was as tall as Dad. He didn’t know when that’d happened. His father had always been the biggest person in his world, both figuratively and physically. Strange, then, that in the end, he was still just a man. “Please tell me you didn’t read all of it. Because if you did, I need to figure out a defense for my depravity.”
“That’s what we’re calling it, huh? Pretty good word for it, if you ask me. Yes, I read every word, and let me tell you, some of those descriptions of Pyro Storm were a little too close to—”
“Do you trust me?” He didn’t mean to say it. He wasn’t even sure where it came from. Too late now.
Dad stopped. Everything stopped. The music. The other people. All of it gone, because Nick could see his father’s mind processing. Surprise, then something akin to suspicion. A flash of sadness, like grief. Nick knew his father. He knew him better than almost anyone could claim to. He watched as Dad tried to cover up his expressions, but he failed spectacularly.
“I trust you,” Dad finally said. “To know what’s right. To know what’s not.”
“But…” Nick said, knowing it was there, and hating it existed at all.
“But,” Dad said, letting the word hang between them. Then, “But I … it’s not that I don’t trust you, Nick. It’s not that at all. I’m … we’re worried that you might not think the big things through.”
“Like?” Nick asked, trying to keep his voice even.
“We don’t have to do this now,” Dad said. He took a step back, dropping his hands from Nick’s shoulders. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. He closed it, shaking his head.
“Like?” Nick insisted.
“All right?” another voice said, causing them both to jump. Mom had appeared out of nowhere. Nick hadn’t heard her coming over. “You look like you’re being very serious over here. It’s a party, guys. You’re killing the mood.”
“We need to tell him,” Dad said, and a chill ran down Nick’s spine. “Tell all of them. They have to know, Jen. They need to be ready for what’s coming.” His hands curled into fists, knuckles popping.
Mom nodded tightly, mouth curving down. “Wanted to give everyone a chance to enjoy themselves before we…” She looked away, blinking rapidly. “I thought we’d have more time, but you’re right.”
“What are you talking about?” Nick asked, a buzzing sound filling his ears. “What’s going on?”
Mom raised her hand, twisting her fingers slightly. The music cut off midbeat, the silence deafening as everyone looked around as if waking from a stupor. Though Nick was sure no one else could feel it, he could. The energy from his mother. Her powers, so much like his own. It was strange, this feeling, like a heavy wave crashing over him, pulling him into the depths. Distantly, he thought, Is this real? Is any of this real?
Yes, a calming voice whispered in reply. Of course it is. It’s real. All of this.
The feeling dissipated, though not completely. Gently, it brushed over his skin like an unwanted caress, soft and wrong. It was maddening and intoxicating all at the same time. A thought on the tip of his tongue, muddled, out of focus. Incapable of clarity.
He forgot all about it when Mom spoke, her voice raised so everyone could hear her. “I didn’t want to do this tonight,” she said. “Miles, Joanna, I just wanted this to be Jazz’s night.” She looked pale. Nervous. She glanced back over her shoulder at her son and husband. She held her hand out. Dad went to her, taking her hand in his. “But I need to.” She squeezed Dad’s hand. “We need to. Because sometimes, we can’t wait for the fight to come to us.”
Nick didn’t move. He couldn’t. His feet were stone, heavy, holding him in place.
A little flash of light in his head. A memory. But … not? Because it didn’t feel real. It wasn’t how it’d happened. They hadn’t—
Smoke and Ice unconscious, trapped behind ceiling struts embedded in the ground. Dad, Dad, Dad rushing toward him, shouting his name, lifting him up, hugging him tightly, face buried in his neck. It’d been close, so close yet again, death knocking on their doorstep, banging, banging, but they’d survived, they’d won, and Dad … Dad had asked—
Who was that?
TK. He’s … like me.
He? Who is he?
Don’t know. Never seen him outside of his costume.
“He’s like me,” Nick whispered, gooseflesh prickling along his arms, defiant against the summer heat. “He’s … like. Me.”
“Nicky?” Mom said, and held out her other hand toward him. He went to her, moving as if in a dream, practically floating. He took her hand, and calm washed over him. He was tired. That’s all it was. He was tired and remembering things that hadn’t happened. TK wasn’t a man. She was his mother. She’d always been his mother.
“I need you to listen,” she told him. “This is important. Can you do that?”
Nick nodded slowly, blinking, trying to clear his head. He looked away from her at the others, taking them in. Bob frowning, Martha’s hand at her throat. Miles and Jo standing near the edge of the pool, arms wrapped around each other, flutes of sparkling cider clasped in their hands. Trey and Aysha, Gibby standing between them, eyes questioning. Mateo taking a step toward Nick and his parents, Chris stopping him, fingers around his wrist, brow furrowed. Jazz near the food table, a large steak knife gripped in her hand as if she thought she was going to stab the shit out of someone for interrupting her party.
And Seth, moving slowly toward them, head cocked in question. Nick knew his mind was whirring, trying to figure out what had changed, more than a little Pyro Storm in his narrowed gaze.
Seth, who spoke for all of them. “What’s wrong?”
Jennifer Bell said, “Owen Burke has returned to Nova City.”
An explosion of noise, chaotic, loud as the adults began to speak over each other furiously. Jazz’s eyes narrowed, and Gibby scowled ferociously. Seth barely moved, face blank, though his hands curled into fists at his sides.
Nick’s knees betrayed him, weak, loose, and he almost sagged to the ground. “What?” he whispered. He knew this was inevitable, that it was only a matter of time, but hearing his mother say it aloud showed him how much he’d hoped Owen would just … disappear.
“How do you know that?” Seth asked.
Gibby pushed through her parents, shaking them off when they tried to stop her. “How can you be sure?”
Jazz huffed out an irritated breath, bringing up the knife and, somehow, flipping it expertly in her hands. Nick didn’t know when she’d learned that trick, but he took a moment to be suitably impressed by it. “Let me at him. I’ll take care of him myself.”
“Uh, Jasmine,” Miles said. “Let’s hold off on that for just a moment, if you don’t mind. I don’t think we need to commit felonies quite yet. You haven’t even opened your presents.”
Mom wasn’t put off by Jazz’s display, or the questions from Seth and Gibby. If anything, she looked almost … pleased? There and gone in a flash, but Nick saw it. He knew he did. Gravely, she said, “Because I’ve seen him.”
Seth stared at her for a long moment. “You’re sure.”
“Of course I am,” Mom said. “If I’d been suited up, I’d have been able to get photographic evidence. I saw him in a crowd on the street this morning. And before you ask again if I’m sure, I was there when he and Nick were dating.”
“We weren’t dating,” Nick mumbled, aghast, mind reeling. “It was just two people who happened to find each other attractive.” He glared at his people. “And before anyone questions my tastes, I will remind you that I traded up to the most perfect specimen that has ever existed. Seth, I’m talking about you.”
“Noted,” Seth said dryly. He sobered as he looked back at Nick’s mom. “Why didn’t you tell us right away?”
“We didn’t want to ruin Jazz’s party,” Dad said. “We wanted her and the rest of you to have one night without thinking about anything but being here.”
“She’s right,” Chris said, stepping forward. Mateo looked stunned, but he covered it up quickly, face carefully blank. “Aaron, you need to tell him the rest.”
Nick leaned forward to look past his mom to Dad. “Tell me what?”
Dad hung his head, mouth a thin, bloodless line before he exhaled sharply. “The day you got Mateo’s gift. The costume.”
“Uh,” Mateo said. “I don’t know what you’re implying, but if you think I’m working with that asshole, you’d better have evidence to back it up. I already have enough twinks to deal with, I don’t need another one.”
