18. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter eighteen
Carter
Nash and I were supposed to meet yesterday to chat about the case, but something came up and he wasn’t able to.
He didn’t give me any information, and I can’t help but wonder if it has to do with Ryan’s case.
I know he’s working on other cases, and it is sort of selfish to hope it’s all about me, but I can’t help it.
It’s been almost three years, and I still have no answers.
Of course, there are people who have waited much longer. I know that. But this is the one place I allow myself to be selfish.
I’m stacking shelves, helping readers, and cleaning up as I go.
I keep feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket but every time I check it, there’s no new notifications.
I’m waiting for Nash to reach out; there’s no doubt about that.
Maybe I should just text him and ask, but I’m afraid of the answer.
What if it has nothing to do with Ryan? Or what if it does?
Not having answers is about as scary as getting them at this point.
I’ve been living this life for three years now. I don’t know how to do anything else. How will I live after this? What if things don’t get better after we find out who killed Ryan? That’s what I’ve always latched onto, and if I don’t have that, what do I have?
My phone does actually vibrate this time, over and over. I pull it from my pocket and see Nash’s name on the screen.
“Hello?” I answer in a whisper, then hurry to the back room so I’m not disturbing anyone.
“I have an update.”
A wave of relief hits me, but then panic strikes next. “Can we meet tonight? About six? I’ll buy you dinner.”
He’s going to buy me dinner…
It’s just dinner so we can talk about the case. Nothing more. But ever since Kane put that thought in my head, I can’t help but wonder if maybe it is something more.
It’s not. It’s really not. It’s just all my emotions being kicked up about this case. That’s it.
“Sure, where do you want me to meet you?”
“What’s easy for you?”
I scan the area in my head, trying to figure out where I could get to by six that isn’t further away from home. I don’t want to ask him for a ride home, so the closer I am when it gets dark, the better.
“There’s an Italian place on the corner of 51st and 3rd.”
“I’ll see you then.”
He ends the call. Just like that. No small talk. No “how are you?”
It’s unusual for him to be so distant with me, which only makes me think I’m about to get some bad news.
Worst case scenario, he’s closing the case because there’s nothing there. Instantly, I get a heavy pit in my stomach. Tears burn my eyes. How will I handle that? How can I go the rest of my life feeling like this? If he closes it, there goes my hope.
Nash can’t close the case. He can’t. We have to find the person who did this.
We have to keep working. If he wants to meet to tell me he’s closing the case, I’ll do whatever I can to change his mind.
Ryan deserves justice. The man who killed him doesn’t deserve to be on the street, breathing air when Ryan isn’t.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I wipe my eyes, straighten my back and get back to work. I spend the rest of my shift fighting off bad thoughts, wondering what the hell Nash could have to tell me.
Closing up the library takes me a little more time than usual, because I double check everything to pass some time. Eileen is long gone, and I’ve been trusted to lock the doors plenty of times, so this is nothing new.
I leave at 5:30 and make it to the restaurant fifteen minutes later. Nash is pulling in as I reach the door, so I step aside and wait for him to meet me.
“You could have gone in,” he says.
I shrug and reach for the door, but he beats me to it, opening it for me and gesturing for me to go inside. My chest aches.
“Good evening,” the young hostess greets. “Two?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Nash says.
We follow her to a table and she lets us know our waiter will be over shortly.
“How was your day?” Nash asks.
“Stressful.”
The slightest frown pulls at his lips. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Can you tell me what’s going on?” I ask urgently, my hands shaking.
Understanding crosses his face. “Shit,” he mutters, rubbing his brow. “I’m sorry, Carter. I don’t have bad news, and I should have said that.”
“You’re not closing the case?” I ask hopefully.
“Fuck no,” he says. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “Really, I’ve just been so busy and not in the best mood and I…” He holds my gaze, letting out a sigh. “I’m just sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “Really. It’s just my brain, you know? Always thinking about the worst-case scenario. I should have asked.”
“It’s not on you. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
“So work hasn’t been great?”
“I can’t say it’s ever great, but as helpful as my team is, they’re also a pain in the ass. They help with some things but now my time is taken up by going over things with them.”
“So it’s like… what’s the point?”
“Yeah, basically.”
The waiter comes over with a basket of bread sticks and dipping sauces, takes our orders, and leaves us again.
Each of us takes a bread stick. I choose the Alfredo sauce to dip, and he picks up the tomato. Not that we can’t swap, but we both seem happy with our selections.
“Have you been here before?” I ask.
“No. Haven’t been many places out here yet.”
“What updates do you have?” I ask as my throat gets tight. He said it wasn’t bad, but even good things aren’t always easy to handle. And this could be neither—it could be just a simple update.
“You said the woman had nursing clogs on, so I’ve had my team checking in on places in the area. Nursing homes, therapy facilities, in-home, stuff like that.”
“They found her?”
“No, not yet. But they’re working on it. It’s been nearly three years, so I’m not sure of the odds, but they’re doing their best.”
“No one has ever looked for her before,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
“I’m looking,” he says firmly. Confidently.
It gives me a new type of hope. Just as simple as that.
He says something, I believe it. Because that’s what Nash has given me.
Not only hope or the respect of taking this case seriously, but he’s giving me a break.
He’s someone I can put a little bit of that weight I’m carrying onto and trust him to hold it for me.
I don’t have to worry about it every moment of every day.
I can take his word for it and trust that he’ll tell me what I need to know.
I’ve never had that before. And maybe I never needed it before.
I didn’t even know I needed it now. Not until I met him and he gave it to me without knowing.
Our food comes. We’d ordered a large pizza to share and each got our own drink.
“So,” I say. “How does New York pizza compare to Chicago?”
He huffs a small laugh. “My brother would kill me if he heard me say this, but I think it’s better.”
I laugh, reaching for another slice. “Do you miss it there?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know if miss is the right word. I think about it sometimes. Worry about my brother. But I don’t have the urge to go back.”
“I think that makes sense,” I say. “It’s kind of how I feel about work. I don’t miss it, but I enjoy it when I’m there. Think about it sometimes.”
“When did you discover your love for books? Have you always enjoyed reading?”
“God no,” I answer. “Even now, I don’t know if I love reading.
Ryan loved books. Movies. He just loved stories.
Escaping into fun realities. You think I’m a sucker for love, you should have met him.
He was such a sap.” I shake my head as I think about him, unable to stop the smile from forming.
“My job at the library kind of just happened on a whim. I don’t read as much as I wish I could. ”
Nash has a strange look on his face, like he’s amazed by something suddenly.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re smiling.”
“Yeah, I do that sometimes.”
“You’re talking about Ryan, and you’re smiling.”
What he’s saying hits me, and I get it. I’m thinking about Ryan, and I’m happy. I’m not sad or stressed… I’m having a good memory.
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
My smile widens. “Thank you for that.”
“Didn’t do anything.”
“You did, but don’t ask me what.”
He chuckles. “How’s Teddy?”
I can’t help but grin some more. “After I talked to you on Saturday, I stayed with her for another twenty minutes or so. When I started to get up, she didn’t run back to her corner like she usually does. She wanted me to stay. Which… made me happy and sad at the same time.”
“Happy because she trusts you, she’s doing better. Sad because you can’t give her that all the time.”
“Exactly.”
I sip my soda and wipe my mouth, sitting back in the booth and staring at the half-eaten pizza. We’re both full, but finish our drinks without saying a word, just sitting in comfortable silence.
Nash pays the bill. I don’t bother arguing anymore. He offers for me to take the rest of the pizza home. I don’t argue that either. He holds the door for me as I walk out. It’s dark.
“What time is it?” I ask.
He glances at his watch. “Almost eight.”
“Wow. We sat in there for that long?”
“Guess so. Let me give you a ride home.”
“No, I—”
“Get in the truck, Carter,” he says.
So I just do it. Arguing with him isn’t worth it because I know I’m not going to win anyway. He drives me to my apartment building, idling the truck out front.
“Thank you for the ride. For dinner. For the update.”
I feel like I’m always thanking him for something. Why is he doing so much for me?
“Any time,” he says, giving me the smallest smile. I remember when he didn’t smile at all. Now I get them pretty often.
“I had fun tonight.”
The words leave my mouth and a wave of guilt hits me.
Because I did have fun.
Without Ryan.