42. Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter forty-two
Carter
“If Ryan were sitting here right now, what would he tell you to do?”
The question repeats in my head over and over. I can’t get it out. I can’t get it to stop. And I can’t fucking answer it either.
I just got home from group. I’m back to work, and back to getting my life on track.
Only I’m fooling myself. Lying to myself.
Because I’m a fucking mess. And everyone sees it.
It’s why Tim asked me the question. Something that has been brought up before.
Ryan was always something that had me thinking clearly because I know that he always thought clearly.
But this time… it’s hitting me differently.
It’s confusing. There isn’t a clear answer.
Only, I think there is. I just don’t want to see it.
I don’t want to accept it.
Ryan would never steer me in the wrong direction.
Neither would Nash. But this isn’t about him; this is about me. And right now, the only thing I have to help me think clearly is Ryan. He was that for me—always.
Nash has helped me see so many things, too. My strength. My worth. But Ryan was my compass. Maybe he always will be.
So… if Ryan were here right now, what would he tell me to do?
He’d tell me to go get him. He’d tell me I’m being ridiculous. That I’m wasting precious moments. Moments that don’t last. That I’m being an idiot. He never held back. He said it how it was and he did it in a way that you didn’t take offense to it. It was a superpower.
Ryan always nudged me toward life. I experienced life for the first time when I met him and every day we had together. He showed me so many things, helped me learn who I was as a person. Even after he died, he kept doing that.
So, why aren’t I listening? If I know what he would tell me to do, what he would say, why am I still here? Alone, in my apartment.
I’ve spent the last three years going against everything Ryan stood for, everything he loved and enjoyed, the person he made me.
Nash was the one who pulled me back up, who helped me find the person Ryan helped me become—the person I am, who I was meant to be.
I can’t go back to that. I don’t want to.
And I can’t even say that I don’t know how… because I do.
I love Nash. I knew well before he got shot that it’s what I was feeling but I was afraid to tell him. And then I only told him when I left him. And Nash being Nash respected what I wanted. Like he always has, from the very beginning.
I walk into my bedroom and dig through my drawers for something to wear for bed. The first thing I pull out is one of Ryan’s shirts. And for the first time, it doesn’t bring tears to my eyes. I hold it to my chest, and I smile. It’s a sign.
It has to be.
I quickly throw it on. I never thought I’d wear these clothes.
I kept them for the memories because I couldn’t bear getting rid of them all.
But now, as I sit here in his shirt, I realize it’s giving me strength.
Because the memory of Ryan shouldn’t bring me pain.
Nash told me that. And I finally get it now. I finally understand.
Loving Ryan is what made me capable of loving Nash. Losing Ryan is what made me strong enough to love Nash. All of this is just one big circle. Without Ryan, I wouldn’t have Nash. And that’s why Nash will never ask me to stop loving him. Because he understood that long before I did.
I crawl into bed because part of me wants to disappear into sleep, but I get back up immediately. This isn’t where I need to be. This isn’t what I’m supposed to be doing. So why the hell am I doing it?
I throw shoes on and order a car to make two stops. It takes forever to get here, switching drivers three times. I start to wonder if this is the sign that I’m making the wrong choice. But when it finally shows up, I know I’m not.
The car stops at the store first, and I run in to grab everything I need, then come back out and we make our way to my second stop.
The lights are on inside, and I see someone walking back and forth in the living room, the shadow cast against the curtains.
“Thank you,” I say to the driver, grabbing all of my bags to get out.
Nothing about this feels wrong, but nerves are still going crazy in my stomach.
I ring the bell without hesitation. And when Nash opens the door, a surprised look on his face, all I can do is shrug, holding up the bags.
“I came to make you dinner.”
The softest smile crosses his lips and he moves aside, so I step in.
Just like that.
Nash and I never needed words. We understood each other on a different level from the very beginning. We will talk about this, just not now.
Now, I’m going to make him Shepard’s Pie because it’s his favorite, and I kept meaning to but ran out of time. I don’t want to run out of time anymore. I want to do everything that I want to do, in case one day we can’t.
“There’s something different about it, but I can’t place it,” he says, pointing at the food with his fork.
“I think I added too many onions,” I say.
“You did put in a lot of onions, but it wasn’t bad. It’s just not hers.”
“So less onions. Vegetables are cut up smaller. Less salt and more of…”
He shakes his head, sighing. “Some crazy special ingredient that neither of us knows exists.”
I huff a laugh, because he’s right. We’re both bad at this, but we’re trying to get better. And we’re doing it together.
His gaze meets mine, looking as tired as I feel.
I swallow hard.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“For what?”
“You know what,” I croak.
“Don’t apologize for your feelings, Carter. You did what you had to do.”
“But I shouldn’t have. I was scared and I… I hurt us both.”
“It hasn’t been easy, I won’t lie, but deep down, I think I knew we’d be okay.”
“How did you know that?”
He shakes his head, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. “I don’t know. Just a gut feeling. It felt too good not to last.”
“Yeah, it does.” We sit in silence for a moment before I get up. “I’m going to put the food away. Go get comfortable.”
“I am comfortable.”
I roll my eyes, then start cleaning up the kitchen and putting away the food. It doesn’t take me long, but it was late before I showed up.
When I’m finished, I turn to face him, resting my hands on the counter with my back against it.
“Can I ask you something?” I say carefully.
Nash gets up from the table and walks over to me, standing in front of me. Towering over me with his presence more than his actual height. It’s not intimidating though. It’s comforting.
“You know the answer to that,” he says.
“The anniversary of Ryan’s death is coming up, and I, uh…” My throat starts to get tight, but I push past it. “I’ve never gone to his grave, not since he was first buried, because it’s just been too much, and I was hoping that you would… maybe—”
Nash cups my cheeks, and I instantly want to yell at him for using his left arm—even though he isn’t really using it.
“Carter, yes. I will go with you to visit Ryan. On his anniversary or any other day you want to go. Thank you for asking me.”
A wave of relief washes over me, and I sink against him, taking in his smell and the heat of his body. It’s right. So right.
“Do you want to go to bed or watch a movie?” I ask.
“Bed,” he rasps out, scratching the back of his neck. “Definitely bed.”
“I’ll stay on the couch with you if you want.”
“No,” he says. “We’re staying in bed.”
“But you said it’s uncomfortable.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
I go to him, putting my arms around his waist. “I don’t want you in pain.”
“I just need to fix the pillows, and I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Have I ever lied to you?”
“No… you haven’t.”
He leans in to kiss my forehead. “And I won’t start now. Come on.”
He leads me to the bedroom and I help him move all the pillows around so when he gets in, he’ll be able to sit up more than lying flat.
We both climb into bed, and it takes him a moment to get comfortable, shifting the pillows around with my help, but he finally settles.
“Are you sure this is okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’ll be fine. Worst case, I take some pain meds in the morning.”
I cuddle close to him.
“I missed this,” I whisper. “I missed you.”
He hugs me a little tighter.
“I missed you too,” he says. “So much.”
We lay there together in the dark silence, only our breaths between us. No one does anything, or says anything, but my God, I really want this man right now.
My dick gets hard, and I do my best to ignore it and make sure he doesn’t know because he’s been shot and he’s healing.
But… if I’m really careful…
I don’t need his left arm, or his shoulder. I’ll just avoid it.
I lean up a little to kiss his jaw, letting my lips linger for a moment. He sighs, his arm tightening around me even more. I move closer to his ear, kissing him again, then down to his neck. Now he groans, his body tensing in that way that tells me he wants me to.
“Is this okay?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I move down to kiss his collar bone, then his chest.
“It doesn’t hurt?”
“No.”
I move down more, over his nipple. The hair on his chest tickles my cheek, but I keep going, trailing kisses all the way down to his belly button.
“Does this?” I look up at him.
His gaze is dark, hooded, as he stares down at me.
“No, keep going.”
I throw the blankets back and straddle him before carefully leaning down to kiss his warm, soft lips.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I know you won’t.” He blinks, his gaze firmly on me. “I trust you.”
I grind down on him, feeling his cock thicken beneath me. We still have our pants on, but there’s something hot about grinding against him with them still on, like we’re teenagers unable to wait even a second to have each other.
His right hand grasps my ass, pulling me into him harder as he lifts his hips to meet me, thrust for thrust.
We moan and whimper and curse because it just feels so fucking good, his hard cock sliding against mine. His firm body beneath mine. His smell. Everything about him. It feels like home. Like exactly where I am supposed to be.
“Carter,” he growls. “Fuck, I’m going to come.”
“Me too,” I breathe. “Come with me, Nash.”
His fingers bruise my ass cheek as he pulls me down on him and I find his mouth again, both of us panting.
I don’t know which of us comes first, I think we truly come at the same time.
We both cry out against each other’s mouths, gripping onto each other for dear life.
The orgasm hits hard and fast, and then it’s over, and we’re laying here sweating. Panting. With cum in our pants.
I rest my forehead on his.
“I love you, and I’m sorry I said I wished I didn’t,” I say.
“I love you too,” he whispers back.
I smile, biting on my bottom lip.
“I know you do,” I say confidently. “Because I trust you too.”
He leans up to kiss me, a few soft pecks of his lips.
I sigh. “Now I get to clean us both up.”
“Well, you did make the mess.”
“If you weren’t hurt, I’d smack you.”
He chuckles. “I’ve gotten good at taking my pants off with one arm. Shirts on the other hand…”
“Hm, getting to see you without a shirt on? Not complaining here.”
Nash kisses me again as we laugh.
It’s right there in that moment that I just know everything is going to be okay. It’s all going to work out. Because I allowed myself to be happy.