Free

Chapter 39

THIRTY-NINE

Charlie

I pull into Nick’s driveway, anticipation fluttering in my stomach. Being with him feels like the answer to questions I didn’t know I was asking. Like I spent my whole life underwater and am finally seeing sunlight. When we’re together, my ‘terrier energy’ fades. I don’t have to run or go or do, I can just relax and be. It’s peaceful. And wonderful.

And the sex? Is there a word to describe raw and real and bone-quiveringly awesome? If so, it’s that.

Nick opens the door before I can knock, Sunshine bounding out ahead of him. She circles my legs, her tail a blur of excitement. Nick’s smile is warm, but there’s an energy simmering beneath it, something intense and just out of reach. His eyes flicker over my face, searching, like he’s trying to read me in a language he hasn’t spoken in a while.

“Hey,” I say, stepping inside. “You okay?”

Nick nods, pulling me into a hug and nuzzling my hair. “It’s been a weird day.”

I wrap my arms around his waist, leaning into the solid warmth of him. "Weird how?"

“Weird good. I think.” He kisses the top of my head, but he’s quieter than usual, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. When he finally pulls back, he brushes his knuckles against my cheek before he gestures toward the pictures on the foyer table—photos I’ve seen facedown every other time I’ve been here. Tonight, they’re upright, their rightful place reclaimed. Nick’s hand hovers over one, his fingers brushing the frame like it might burn him. When he finally picks it up, the picture trembles slightly in his grasp. I step closer, peering over his shoulder, drawn into the frozen moment of joy captured in the photo.

“That’s Mark,” he says softly, solemnity threading through his voice. “We came up through boot together. He was with me… that day.”

His voice falters, and my chest tightens as I reach out, tracing the glass. Mark’s grin is infectious, a moment of pure, unguarded joy preserved forever. I can feel the warmth of it, even through the pain woven into Nick’s words.

“His wife came to see me today,” Nick continues, his voice growing thick with emotion. “She’d been reaching out the last couple months. Needed to talk about the accident and I just wasn’t ready. She forced my hand today.”

“And this is what made today good in a weird way?”

He nods. “It was freeing, talking about it. About him—Mark. I’ve been carrying this weight around for so long, and finally, someone who needed to hear it, heard it.”

His brows knit, and for a second, I see the familiar storm brewing behind his eyes. But then, like sunlight breaking through clouds, a smile bursts across his face. It’s not forced or fleeting like before; it’s real, unrestrained, and it takes my breath away. Seeing him like this—it feels like watching a caged bird take flight for the first time, the weight of the past no longer holding him down.

Not a Band-Aid, I think to myself as he takes the picture from my hands and places it with the others.

I’m good for him.

He’s good for me.

His anxiety is fading.

I feel complete for maybe the first time ever.

The nightmares are gone.

I’m happier than I ever was with Davis. So happy, that Davis’s betrayal doesn’t even hurt. How could it, when I ended up with everything I ever wanted instead of being shackled to a selfish ass?

“Anyway,” Nick says, shoving his hands into his pockets and dipping his chin, “something Kate said got me thinking. You good if we change plans for tonight?”

“As long as I’m with you, I’m good with whatever.” The words come out easily, like they’ve been waiting their whole life to make an appearance.

Nick grins, a smile that could get away with robbery if it tried hard enough. “And I thought I was the one with the cheesy lines.”

“That wasn’t cheesy! That was honest.”

“It was also one thousand percent cheese,” he counters, stepping closer to press a kiss to my forehead, the warmth of his lips lingering longer than the moment itself. “But don’t worry. I won’t hold it against you.”

The way he says it, teasing yet impossibly fond, makes me roll my eyes and smile at the same time. He disappears into the kitchen, and I hear the faint shuffle of items and the distinct clink of something glass. When he returns, he’s holding an honest-to-goodness picnic basket. Like, with a handle and everything. He’s carrying it like it’s the most normal thing in the world, but my raised brows beg to differ.

“Another woman,” I say, leaning on the wall and narrowing my eyes, “might point out that it’s a little strange for a man to own one of those. She might even go so far as to call it cheesy.”

“Good thing you’re better than that.” Nick slaps my ass, then gives it a squeeze, pulling me against him. “Damn, Charlie. Maybe you’re right. Let’s get naked and forget my plans.”

“Do you really think you’re gonna walk out here carrying an actual picnic basket like it’s no big deal, and I’m just gonna let it go? And here I thought you understood me better than anyone.”

Nick huffs a laugh and we head out to his truck. The music is good. His smile is better. Before long we pull to a stop in front of the pier we met on before everything fell to pieces. I turn to him with a quizzical look and he gives me a sheepish smile as he climbs out of the cab and collects the picnic basket.

“What is this?”

The wind carries the scent of salt and the sound of waves lapping against the pier. Nick leads me to the edge, the planks creaking beneath our feet, and I’m struck by the familiarity of it—the echoes of that first meeting, the weight of all the moments that came after. The sunset paints the water in strokes of gold and lavender, the horizon stretching endlessly before us. Nick sets the picnic basket down and takes my hands, his fingers warm despite the cool evening air.

“The last time we were here, I promised we’d start something when I got home.” Nick’s voice rumbles, low and warm. “But I broke that promise.”

“Not completely,” I say, pressing a hand to his chest. “We’re here now.”

“We are here now. But we should have been here sooner. Today, the look on Kate’s face, it was everything I thought I was saving you from. I didn’t want you to ever go through the pain she’s in, losing someone she loves so deeply.”

“But I did lose you, remember? For a whole year, you were gone.”

“But I’m here now,” he says, with that shit-eating grin fully activated.

“You’re here now.” I meet his gaze, hoping he can see how much he means to me. “I don’t think I could handle losing you again.”

“You won’t, Charlie. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

“Promise?”

Nick nods, trailing his fingers through my hair. “How could I leave the best thing that ever happened to me? If I could bottle the way I feel when I’m with you, the world wouldn’t need stars.”

“God, I love how cheesy you are.”

Every time he lets his guard down, even just for a moment, it feels like he’s giving me a gift he doesn’t even realize he’s offering.

I cup his cheek. His eyes meet mine, open and unguarded. I kiss him, softly at first, but it deepens quickly, the warmth between us growing, his hands sliding to my waist, pulling me closer. There's an urgency in the way he kisses me tonight, like he needs to feel alive, like he’s claiming the connection between us, strengthening it, breathing life into it.

We break apart, breathless, and grin at each other for several seconds before I pull back. “This isn’t like the last promise you made to me here?”

Nick’s jaw drops. “I’m trying to be sweet and this is what I get?”

“I mean, a girl has to protect herself, you know? Broken hearts are no joke.”

Nick laughs and unpacks the basket, pulling out a soft blanket for us to sit on, a bottle of wine, and several plastic containers of food. There’s Brie, Gouda, and artisan crackers to start, followed by chilled chicken skewers and a mixed green salad. For dessert, he offers chocolate covered strawberries. We drape our legs off the end of the pier and eat, watching the setting sun.

When we’re done, we drive back to his place. As soon as we’re inside, Nick kisses my hand, nuzzling his cheek against my palm, then kissing down my forearm, drawing me close before pressing his lips to mine. When we finally pull away, he tugs me toward the bedroom, his hand wrapped around mine.

Hands threading through hair. Bodies pressing close. Breath mingling, chests heaving. There’s the rustle of fabric as he draws my shirt over my head, my hair dropping over my shoulders before he brushes it away to kiss the bare skin. He’s needy and insistent. I’m greedy and unrelenting. I need his touch. His skin on mine. The confirmation of whatever this is becoming real and true, something to be trusted rather than feared.

I need the way he looks at me, like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

I need the way he touches me, like I’m a balm to his tortured soul.

I need the way he kisses me, like a starving man taking his first bite.

I need the way we move together, like a promise finally being fulfilled. I need dreams of the future to burn away fears of the past, to prove that magic is possible in this broken world where good things can end at any moment, for any reason.

We come together, two souls desperate to be made whole. Crashing into each other in a deafening roar of ecstatic union. He is my beginning and my end. My salvation and my undoing.

He is my everything.

His touch is delicate, his kisses a slow unraveling of every doubt, every fear. My heart pounds beneath his hands, not with anxiety but with certainty. He pulls me closer, his lips finding mine, and it’s not just desire—it’s understanding. It’s the way he sees me, truly sees me, and loves me anyway.

In this moment, nothing else exists. Not the past, not the future, only a connection so raw and real it feels like coming home. His body presses against mine, his warmth seeping into every corner of me, and I cling to him, desperate to hold on to this feeling.