Cady was right. There was a time and a place, situations for things like this to happen. If there were any outsiders looking in, they would call it cabin fever. But they had to understand that Nathan had never felt this way about anyone before. Never had he encountered someone who made his heart race that painfully in his chest, or fill him with that kind of longing. Because once upon a time, he used to be a different man, a dangerous man.
But now, all Nathan wanted was for Cady to look at him like she looked anything. Like her eyes widened at the flowers on their dining table. How she smiled at the kindest gestures. He wanted those things from her, for him. If Nathan was a product of his nurturing, he wanted that to change. And she was bringing it out from him. But if she was still afraid of him, he needed to show her that there was nothing he wouldn’t do to make her feel safe.
“I was…ten, when my Ma passed on. I was her only kid. First born to the O’Cuinn name, and we’re men of tradition. I was ten when my old man told me I wasn’t supposed to cry at her funeral, while he handed me a gun.” His hand never left hers, pinned to his chest, holding her in place. “I grew up not knowing the difference between good and bad. You did the things you did for the family name. Whatever you do, just remember it’s the whole family. I’ve got brothers…and some sisters. But it wasn’t the same. Pa, he wanted me to be ruthless. Groomed me to take up the family business someday.” It was painful narrating his life story to Cady, looking at her while he told her this. Because it reminded him of family, of being safe. Which was an odd feeling for a gangster, because where was the safety in their line of work? Just because you slept with a gun in your hand, didn’t mean you were safe. Ever.
“I believed him blindly, ya know? I closed my eyes and did as I was told because that was what I was meant to do. Follow the family legacy, go down as one of them. I could tell you stories that would make you fear me. I have never been a ‘good’ man, but what are those, anyway?” His lips pursed into a straight line. “But I didn’t join the family, as you can see. I’m here, and…I know that we’re not supposed to do this. Chances are, we’re either gonna be killed before the hearing, or we’ll never see each other again.” At this point, Nathan let go of her hand, putting some distance between them. “So who’s going to stop us?”
There was a question circling round in Cady’s head, she tried knocking it away but it always swung back round. The question of what made a person who they were, nature or nurture. Was one born bad, or was it a consequence of their surrounding. Was it in their blood, or in the mind. Cady hoped that the answer was nurture - because there was always hope if it was nurture. One could be nurtured to be good, but if it was nature - then there was no saving a bad soul.
She kept her eyes on him whilst he starting telling her his story. The true story about who he really was - who he’d been. It was an insight into the way he’d been raised, and once again Cady couldn’t help but think that all his bad choice were a result of nurture. Has her father placed a gun in her hand at ten years old, maybe she’d have grown up with blood on her hands too - but that also didn’t change the fact that he’d made the choice to pull the trigger. He may have chosen to go against his family now, but was it too late?
He held her hand against his chest, but she didn’t feel trapped. She knew deep down that if she had tried to pull away he would have let her go - she didn’t fear that. But she also didn’t move. She listened, letting the tears well up in her eyes. She chocked a little as he mentioned their potentially likely deaths, taking a deep breath as he let her go and stepped back. ( “My father works in a factory, my mother was a maid till arthritis made it impossible for her to hold a mop. It was only ever us, the three of us - I’ve never had to share, and I’ve never had to look out for anyone. I’ve never had the responsibility of a family on my shoulders and my parents always encouraged me to be whatever I wanted to be.” ) She wasn’t sure where she was going with her story, other than making it even more clear just how opposite they were.
( “You may have believed him blindly, but you’ve opened your eyes. You’re stuck here with me because you made a choice - you made a choice to be a good man, and I do believe those exist. Deep down I know if you’d of had another choice, you wouldn’t have taken the gun...” ) She stepped forward, closing the distance he’d created between them, taking his hands in hers again and holding them against her chest. ( “You don’t have to be anyone you don’t want to be...” ) She offered him, quoting words her mother had always said to her as a young girl, before standing on her tiptoes to kiss him; gentle and slow, a kiss of love not passion.
