Outtake: The Donatis #Naz #Calisto #Emma
We’re back for another outtake. This was one in the form, requested by a reader, who wanted to see Naz with both of his grandparents. In this one, you will get to see him with one set of his grandparents, and I will write another with his other. I tend to keep these outtakes to about 1k, so that’s all that fit into this one specifically.
Also, if you want an outtake, you have to give me more than a name of a character or a couple. So, if you wonder why I’m not writing your outtake, that is likely why. I legit pass over those because they tell me nothing that you want except someone, and that makes it really difficult for outtakes when I want to know specifics to get my muse up and running.
Also, to the person asking for Konstantin – he’s not my character to write. London is writing him, so you’re asking the wrong person.
If you have an outtake request for me, drop it in the form HERE.
And onto the outtake.
A Naz Outtake
“Done,” Naz grumbled, wishing he had taken his grandmother’s offer of her flowery garden gloves to protect his hands because fuck. He had so much dirt under his fingernails that it was going to take hours to get out. And not to mention, yeah, he was known to occasionally work with his hands, but not typically like this. He didn’t get on his hands and knees in a fucking garden to pull weeds for hours.
Oh, he wasn’t joking.
Not even a little.
His father had suckered him into helping Emma get her garden ready for planting because she misses you, and she doesn’t get to see you enough. Right. What his father didn’t say was that Cross just didn’t want to be the one here on his hands and knees, ruining very expensive clothes, to pull out weeds that would, no doubt, grow back in a couple of weeks.
Because they were weeds!
“Oh, we’re not done,” Emma said, poking her head up over the shrubbery bush. “We have to till the soil again, and add in a bit of the fertilizer to mix it again. Then, we’ll get the rows ready over there for the new roses I want to put in.”
Oh, my God.
Naz knew work.
He loved to work on cars. He was good with grease, and oil. He worked out morning and night to keep his body in shape. And yet, on his knees under the hot August sun after pulling weeds for several hours, since almost the moment he woke up that morning considering this was the first place he came after he ate breakfast, he was tired.
Emma’s bright smile came his way, and his shoulders dropped a bit. She was happy—so fucking happy. His father probably hadn’t lied, all things considered. His life was constantly chaotic, even if that was how he liked it best. He did great things under immense pressure, after all. Nonetheless, it kept him on the move, nonstop. The only time he really got to sit down with his grandmother was every other Sunday for family dinner at her house.
The other Sundays, they went to his mother’s family.
In those seconds, with his grandmother staring his way and waiting for him to speak, Naz decided it didn’t fucking matter what he felt. So what if he was tired. Who gave a shit if it was way too hot. He didn’t have a green thumb, and he didn’t give a shit what roses needed to grow as beautiful as they could be, but whatever.
Emma was smiling.
Because of him.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked her.
Emma nodded. “I think we should. A break would be good.”
Naz agreed. “Find some shade, and I’ll bring it out to you, Grandmama.”
His grandmother pulled the glove from her hand. Reaching across the shrubbery bush that kept them separated, Emma patted Naz on the cheek with her warm, weathered palm. “You’re a good boy, hmm?”
Twenty, and he was still a boy to her.
Like he was to his ma, too.
Naz didn’t mind.
“Is there anything else you want me to get you, Grandmama?”
Emma grinned conspiratorially. “Well, if you think we could use an extra pair of hands out here, I am sure you could convince your grandfather to join us.”
Nazio seriously doubted that. Calisto was a lot of things, but a man who worked with his hands was not one of them. He blamed it on the fact that his grandfather had always held a special love for the piano, and that meant taking care of his hands as much as possible.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he told Emma.
She nodded, and pulled one last weed as he stood up. He was quick to help her up to her feet as well, but without waiting for her to ask. Once his grandmother was situated in the shade under her favorite sitting area, Naz headed for the house.
He was just pulling a picture of iced tea from the fridge when his grandfather came to lean in the entryway of the kitchen with a knowing smile.
“What?” Naz asked.
“Has she tired you out yet?”
Calisto chuckled. “She does love that garden.”
“She better for all the work she puts into it.”
“And you, too.”
Naz glanced back at his grandfather as he pulled two glass cups from the cupboard, and then proceeded to set them down on the island to fill with the iced tea. “What do you mean?”
“She loves you, Naz,” his grandfather explained. “She would have been happy had you came and took her out for lunch, but I know she appreciates this more than she’ll say.”
“I know,” he said.
“Thank you for not complaining, and indulging her.”
Naz shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I, Grandpapa?”
Calisto nodded. “Exactly, Naz.”
Family was everything.
That lesson had started with Calisto.
He passed it onto Cross.
And now it was Naz’s turn to carry it on.
“Good men aren’t born,” Calisto told his grandson.
Naz nodded. “They’re made.”