In the Open

"Eat it."

**VERY MATURE SCENE THIS CHAPTER**

Nick's POV:

I watch as Nadine slips into the passenger seat, but turns around and looks at Mark as he slides in the back. Why the fuck does she care about this fucker? I try to contain my rage- at my father, at Zayn, at all the cunts I just killed, and at myself for letting this happen to Nadine.

And also because she still hasn't taken her eyes off of that fucking dick.

I take a deep breath and drive away as quickly as I can, my tires screeching and spitting gravel.

"Talk to me Nadine, please," I say, my voice desperate. I reach over and grab her cold and slender hand, wrapping it in my own as if that would restore her warmth.

I glance at her and see the tears leaking from her eyes; my heart breaks for her. None of this would've happened if I had just left her alone.

"Please stop with the self pity Nick, this wasn't your fault. Okay? I left on my own. I went to him. You can't blame yourself for something I did. I love you, and everything is okay now." She tries to give me a convincing smile, but I see through it. She's terrified about what's next. Ray will stop at nothing, we both know that now. The silence grows, and nothing else is said.

We finally get to the house, and I hastily pull in and we all file out of the car. Exhaustion is dawning on all of us, and I watch Nadine as her eyes roll back as she yawns.

"We need to get you food Nadine. You look malnourished," I say, my voice cracking with emotion.

It's my fault.

"I agree, do we have any ice cream? Or pancakes? Oooh what about muffins?..." She rambles on as we walk inside. Mark follows behind me awkwardly. He's lucky Nadine stopped me from shooting him. Her reasoning? I don't know. But I'm sure I won't like it.

"Is there anything you need? You can stay with us until you know what you're going to do." Nadine's soft voice speaks up, and I try not to glare at the guy as he walks closer to her. She's spooning ice cream into her mouth, moaning at the taste.

"Baby I think you should eat something with a little more benefit than cookie dough ice cream," I chuckle at her, and she shoots me a glare that I have missed so much.

"Cookie dough is made with eggs and they have a lot of protein, for your information. And milk is good for the bones," she glares harder and I put my hands up in mock surrender.

How is she so okay after all this? Or good at hiding it.

Mark scoffs at her and grabs some lunch meat out of the fridge. The level of restraint I have not to put this fucker on his ass right here.

He makes himself a sandwich loaded with just about every meat and cheese we have in the fridge. Making himself at home I see.

Right when I think he's about to scarf it down like a wild animal, he pushes it in Nadine's direction with a stern look in his eyes.

Fuck, now I look like an asshole. I hate him.

"Eat it," he says, glaring slightly. Nadine pouts as she looks at her awaiting ice cream, but puts it down and hesitantly takes the sandwich from his hands.

"Thank you, Mark," my sweet girl says, smiling at him gratefully. It makes my blood boil that he did something to make her smile, especially at a time like this.

The room falls silent as Nadine eats her food, but I don't miss the stares Mark passes her way every couple minutes. What exactly went on while she was held by my father? What is this unspoken relationship that they have that's filling the room with this tense, yet intimate silence? I know she's went through hell, but that doesn't stop the jealousy from filling my veins at the thought of Mark being there for her when I couldn't be.