28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter twenty-eight
Carter
The few seconds I had to myself I spent looking up recipes so I can cook something for Nash tonight, hoping he’d be able to come over.
Maybe I should have asked first, made sure before I put all the time into it, but I was hopeful.
We don’t usually see each other back-to-back like this, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t say no. Thankfully, he didn’t.
I stop at a small grocery store on the way home to get everything I need. I don’t know who is worse with not having food in our fridge—me or him. It’s funny how similar we are, yet so very different at the same time.
There are a lot of steps to this lasagna, but I’m confident I’ll get it done. The instructions aren’t difficult; just time consuming.
I’m starving, having had only a small lunch since work was so busy with all the kids stopping by for a tour.
Some of them got their library cards if they didn’t have one already, and a lot of the kids check out books to see how the process is done.
We show them around and talk about how important reading is.
All the staff were on today, which is only five of us, to help keep the tours organized and on time.
It was a good day. Fun. I love seeing the kids excited over something that usually feels like work to them.
I follow the recipe one step at a time, and I’ve hardly made a dent in anything I have to do before there’s a knock at my door. Thankfully, I’m not far from the door and I can quickly pull it open, and look over my shoulder at Nash as I make my way back to the stove.
He chuckles. “You good?”
“Just… feeling a little overwhelmed,” I admit as I pick up the spoon to stir the sauce.
The noodles are cooking partially, the meat and sauce are simmering, plus it’s so hot in here I think the cheese that I left on the counter is melting.
“Could you open the window a little?” I ask.
Nash walks over to the window in the kitchen and opens it about halfway.
The cool air bursts in and feels amazing.
He lays his coat over the chair like last time, then he moves beside me and rolls his sleeves up.
Holy shit, did he have to do that? I don’t need distractions!
My cheeks warm and it has nothing to do with the hot stove I’m standing over and everything to do with him rolling those sleeves up over thick arms. What is so hot about that?
“What can I help with?” he asks.
“Grab a beer and sit down. I’ve got this.”
I feel his stare on me. “You sure? You just said you were overwhelmed.”
“I can handle it.” I look at him quickly. “I want to make you dinner, and unless this place goes up in flames, you can stand back.”
He smirks. “My brother is the firefighter.”
“I know, but you have basic firefighting skills… right?” I ask, but he doesn’t say anything. “Nash? Right? Don’t they teach you that stuff in cop school?”
He barks out a laugh. “Cop school? You mean the academy?”
“Whatever! Do you know how to handle it or not?”
Nash chuckles and asks, “Where is your fire extinguisher?”
“Uh…”
“Seriously?”
“It’s… somewhere. In a cabinet, I think. That one maybe.” I use my foot to aim at the one under the sink.
Nash opens the door and pulls it out. He looks up at me with a glare. “This expired four years ago.”
I laugh nervously. “They expire?”
He huffs a sigh, then puts the extinguisher by the door. “I’m sure you won’t start a fire, but you will get a new extinguisher tomorrow.”
“Sure. Yeah. Definitely. Uh, how do I do that?”
“I’ll find the closest place,” he says as he goes over to sit on the couch.
I focus on dinner, making sure I get everything just right, and once it’s all cooked and time to layer, I’m feeling a little tired. Less stressed though. This is the easy part. I can breathe now.
When the lasagna is layered and put into the oven, I wipe my forehead and turn to find Nash comfortable on the couch. The TV is on, but his gaze is on me.
“All good?” he asks with a smirk.
“All good.” I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. “But I think I need a shower.”
“I’ll be here.”
I jump in the shower quickly, changing into sweatpants and a t-shirt when I’m done. I don’t feel like I need to dress up around Nash. I’m fine being comfortable.
When I come out, he’s in the same spot, watching TV this time. I glance at the clock on the wall and realize he’s already been here over an hour.
“Shit. I’m sorry. I am usually much better at time management.” I sit on the couch beside him.
He gives me a soft smile. “It’s okay. I’m not on a time limit.”
Now I smile. “Good to know.”
I have the urge to lean in and kiss him, but I don’t know if we’re doing that again.
Yes, last night happened. I know how I feel about him, but that doesn’t mean he’s feeling it too.
Or that he wants more, or even just a repeat.
He’s the detective working on my late-boyfriend’s murder case…
I don’t think this is supposed to happen.
“Can I talk to you about something?” I ask carefully.
“Always.”
I ring my hands together as I stare at them, trying to find the right words to say what I want to say.
“I don’t know what’s going on with us, and we don’t have to put a label on anything, but I do need you to know that this is all very confusing for me.”
“Me too.”
“How so?” I ask.
“I don’t date.”
“Me either.”
“No, I mean, I’ve never dated anyone. Not once in my whole life.”
“Never?” I ask. “How… how is that possible?”
He shakes his head, taking a deep breath and finding my gaze.
“I told you I dealt with trauma and that I’ve always looked out for my brothers.
” I nod, and his face turns almost expressionless, which confuses me until he speaks again.
“My father murdered my mother right in front of us—and then he killed himself.”
“Holy shit,” I mutter.
“I was sixteen. We all went to foster care for a while, but once I was eighteen, I took them in. Did my best. They grew up, went off on their own. Well, Jericho and I found each other a short time later when he separated from his husband, but that’s a whole other story.
Basically, I’ve spent my life worrying about them and working. ”
“Nash, I don’t even know what to say.”
I knew he had trauma. He said he lost someone but more than that, I’ve seen it in him. In the way he acts and especially the way he speaks. He says things that tell me he’s experienced grief.
“You don’t have to say anything. It happened a long time ago. I’ve accepted it’s part of my story. I’ve done what I can to move on. I’m in a good place. This… isn’t something that I tell people. Few know.”
“But you told me.”
“Yes, I told you. I needed to share that with you for you to understand other parts of me.” He takes my hand confidently. “I don’t know what I’m doing, and that’s okay. I think we’ve both just… gone with the flow.”
“We have. It’s… there’s no pressure here. I like that I can be myself and I don’t have to hide anything. I don’t feel like you look at me differently because of what happened—because you know I lost someone.”
“Of course I don’t.”
“People do.”
“Because they don’t understand this side of it. They don’t know what it’s like to be looked at that way. I do. So, I don’t do it to others.”
“You respect me.”
“I do. You’re strong and willful and you’re a good person.”
I smile, huffing a small laugh. “I like that we can have these intimate conversations without it being a thing.”
“I agree.”
Glancing down at our hands, I see the way our hands join perfectly together. It feels right and doesn’t make sense at the same time.
“I was worried about talking about this, but I shouldn’t have been,” I say, looking up at him. His face has become so familiar to me in a way I never expected it to. I thought I’d remember him as the cop who swore to solve Ryan’s murder, and now… now he’s so much more.
“Never worry about what you have to talk to me about, Carter. I will always respect your feelings and opinions. We can figure it out together, if we need to.”
“I appreciate you so much, Nash,” I say, my throat getting tight with emotion. “And my feelings are… confusing. I mean, they’re there, I know they’re there. I care about you, but then that little voice in my head reminds me about Ryan and I feel shitty for it.”
He squeezes my hand reassuringly.
“Understandable,” he says. “There’s nothing wrong with that, you know that, right?”
“It doesn’t bother you?” I say, turning to face him more and scooting a little closer. My knee brushes his thigh. I kind of want to crawl into his lap.
“Why would it?”
“Because I still love him. And if this…” I gesture between us, “Becomes something, I don’t think that will change. I’ve never had a reason to stop loving Ryan. Death isn’t strong enough for that.”
Nash moves closer to me now, running his fingers along my cheek and then my jaw in a touch so soft it feels like flower petals.
“Loving him made you into the person you are today.” His thumb brushes beneath my eye, his other hand still holding mine tightly. “Why would I ever ask you to apologize for that?”
“I don’t know, I just…”
“Maybe I’m wrong, but I believe you’re this version of yourself because of Ryan.
The version I met and connected with. Ryan is the reason you’re kind to strangers.
The reason you spend your Saturdays at the shelter.
The reason you still believe people are worth helping after everything you’ve been through.
” His other hand comes up to cup my cheek.
“He’s the reason you are who you are today—the man I know.
I would never ask you to change any part of you, Carter. Never.”
Tears burn my eyes. How the hell did this get so deep so quickly? How do I feel every emotion this man is feeling too? Nash isn’t confessing his love to me, I don’t think that’s where we are, but why does this feel stronger? Like something more? Like something better? Something unexplainable.
“I thought you didn’t believe in this sort of stuff?” I say with a small laugh, needing to lighten the mood. If not, I may cry. No, I definitely will. It’s bubbling up.
“You changed my mind, and I don’t even know how or when, but I think it’s pretty obvious after last night, don’t you?” I nod. “There’s something here between us, something hard to explain, but I know you feel it.”
“We don’t need to put a label on anything. I think it’s easier if we don’t, at least for now.”
“I agree. Letting things between us just be and turn into whatever they do, makes sense.” I nod again, my head ready to explode because how is this happening?
“And it’s not that I didn’t believe in this sort of thing.
I love my brothers more than I can explain.
I still love my mother so much it hurts sometimes.
It’s just that… I didn’t think I was capable of connecting with someone outside of that circle. ”
I throw my arms around him, nearly falling into his lap.
“You’re not broken, Nash,” I whisper.
“Neither are you.”
I almost believe it.