Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Nash
Bennett’s eyes glint with mischief from across the table.
He knew what he was doing when he suggested I bring Lucy to dinner tonight.
He knew she would fit. He knew that seeing the way she relates to my mother and brothers would make it impossible for me to deny what I’m feeling.
Which is stupid because I’m not denying it.
I’m just not doing anything about it.
I run a hand through my hair and meet Lucy’s clear blue eyes as Stella and Bennett launch into some strange competition over who can clear my mother’s table the fastest. Lucy smiles and shakes her head at her friend.
She pushes to her feet and follows Gideon and the dogs onto the porch, tossing a glance over her shoulder that lands like a hook in my ribs.
She doesn’t say a word, just beckons with two fingers and that look that knows exactly what it’s doing.
“Cornhole tournament!” Bennett calls when he steps out several minutes later. “Who’s in?”
Lucy laughs and lifts her cup. “Count me in.”
“Count me out,” I say, lowering myself onto the top porch as Lucy pouts.
“Come on, Doc. A little fun is good for the soul.”
“One day off crutches, kid. I’m not contributing to a secondary injury.”
“After weeks of hobbling around on crutches, I am so ready to hobble around in a boot.” Lucy sucks in her lips, looking utterly adorable. “Besides, I trust you to catch me if I fall.”
Bennett shakes his head, laughing quietly to himself. “She’s got your number, big brother!”
Beau barks like he agrees and Rufus rolls over with a groan, begging us to quiet down.
Lucy and I pair up. Bennett and Stella eye each other with disdain, looking to Gideon for help. He holds up his hands and sits back in his chair. “This is all you. Rufus and I prefer to watch.”
“We’ve done worse things together,” Stella says to Bennett with a wicked glint in her eyes.
“Name one,” he challenges, then hesitates. “Actually… don’t.”
The pause is brief but loaded. I don’t miss it. I’m not sure anyone could.
The game starts. Lucy lines up beside me, her stance a little uneven, booted foot turned out for balance. She raises an arm and throws with surprising accuracy. The bag lands just shy of the board, and she lets out an exaggerated “damn” under her breath.
“Not bad,” I say, keeping my voice neutral.
“Not great, either,” she mutters. “But you’ll carry us, right? Big strong doctor arms and all?”
I snort. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”
She shrugs then places her hand on my chest and leans close to whisper, “If that’s how you want to play it.”
The game rolls on. Every time I sink a shot, Lucy cheers and squeals, hugging me, leaning her head on my shoulder. “We’re so good together,” she calls to Bennett and Stella, ducking in close and pulling my arm over her shoulder, “that you two don’t stand a chance.”
Laughter, heckling, the dogs trying to eat the bean bags. At one point, Beau steals one and bolts, and Lucy can’t stop laughing while Bennett and I chase him around the yard. Her hair’s coming loose from the braid she wore to dinner, and I catch myself staring more than once.
It’s too easy. Too natural.
By the time Bennett sinks a winning shot and shouts in victory, I’m drowning in it. The way she looks at me. The way I feel when I look at her. The way she claps when we lose, turning to me with flushed cheeks and bright eyes like we won something anyway.
We spend the rest of the evening laughing and talking.
Stella telling stories that make my mom laugh so hard she tears up.
Gideon, quiet and guarded as ever. Bennett tossing in barbs that someone volleys back just as fast. And Lucy…
she watches it all with wide, delighted eyes, like she’s been starved for this kind of noisy love.
I keep trying to remind myself it’s temporary. That she’s going to leave. That this can’t be more than it is and I’m not built that way. When I fall, I fall hard.
But the longer I sit beside her, the more I know I’m lying.
I didn’t move her in because it was practical. I can say it had everything to do with logistics and physical therapy all I want, but it’s becoming harder to ignore that I offered her the guest room because I like the way I feel when I’m with her.
Because from the moment I met her, something inside me knew she was special.
“Nash?” Mom asks during a lull. “Come help me in the kitchen a moment.”
I stand and follow her inside, the screen door creaking shut behind us. The cool air is welcome, thick with the scent of dinner and the familiarity of home. I breathe in deep, hoping it settles something inside me.
“All right. Talk to me,” Mom says once the door shuts behind us. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on,” I murmur, rubbing a hand over my mouth.
“Don’t lie to your momma, son.” She takes my hand in hers. “I see what you’re feeling for that girl. Anyone could. And I can see it’s doing a number on your head.”
I flare my hands in a helpless gesture.
“If it helps, it’s just as clear she feels it too. I’m not sure why you’re fighting so hard.”
“I don’t do casual, Mom. And Jadelyn made it particularly clear that I can’t do committed either. My job—”
“Is demanding. Yes. And important. And I’m proud of you. But it’s also been bleeding the light out of you for years now. You’re harsher. You don’t smile as much. You’ve stopped talking about the things you love.”
“I love my job. I talk about that.”
“You do talk about it. Mostly to complain.” Mom smiles gently. “I don’t think you love it as much as you think you do.”
“I love helping people. I don’t love the system. But what else am I supposed to do?” I pace to the sink and clutch the edge of the counter, head bowed, shoulders slumped under the weight of the whole damn world.
I sacrificed a marriage for that job.
I’m good at my job.
“This is too easy a trap to fall into. There is more to life than work and you know it. I can’t stand by and watch my son harden until he breaks.” Mom sighs, then softens, placing her hand on mine. I meet her gaze, angry, desperate for a solution that doesn’t exist.
“I ask again, what am I supposed to do? Quit my job because it’s not perfect? Fall for the girl whose real life is on the other side of the country?”
“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ says the Lord…” Mom begins, quoting one of her favorite Bible verses, a habit I’ve never once found helpful.
I grimace and pace to the other end of the kitchen. “That’s not an answer and it doesn’t help. It just pisses me off.”
“I’m just saying, have faith, Nash.” Mom holds out her hands, pleading me to believe something I simply can’t. “Trust the process. And it wouldn’t hurt you to pray on it.”
“Have faith. Trust the process. Roll with it.” I shake my head. “I’ve heard all that before, I believed it all before, and look where it got me. Losing Jadelyn—”
“Was awful. I know. But son…” Mom takes both my hands in hers, meeting my anger with gentleness.
“You’re still in the middle of the process.
Jadelyn was part of his plan for you, and so is Lucy.
Maybe she’s only part of it or maybe she’s the fulfillment.
Who are we to know? But if you pull so far inward to protect yourself that you never take a chance on anything, you’re looking at a very long, very quiet life and you deserve better than that. ”
I swallow hard. Nod once.
An excited shriek from the patio cuts through the air.
“I got the job!”
Mom and I exchange a glance. “You good?” she asks.
“I’m good. I hear what you’re saying, Mom.” I scrub a hand over my mouth. “I don’t know what to do with it yet, but I hear it.”
“Then we should probably head back out there and see what’s going on.”
We rejoin the others to find Stella beaming at her phone.
“The Stillwater Bay Centennial! The city wants to hire me to plan the whole event! This is the biggest client I’ve ever worked with!” She looks around, flushed and blinking. “Not to make it all about me or anything.”
Lucy jumps up to hug her, stumbling a little when the boot hits the floor. She laughs, steadies herself, then throws her arms around Stella.
“This is huge,” she says. “You’re going to knock it out of the park.”
Bennett doesn’t say anything. Just sits there, chewing his lip in a rare moment of silence.
I watch him watch Stella with a softness that doesn’t jive with his whole I’ve hated her my whole life vibe. His jaw tics. His fingers twitch like he wants to say something and can’t.
Lucy releases Stella and wobbles again. “I thought I’d be glad to be done with the crutches—and I am!—but this boot is heavy and hard to walk in.”
“On that note,” I say, patting my pockets for my keys, “it’s probably best to get you home and off that foot.”
Home.
The word echoes through my chest.
Life with Lucy has made my house a home.
And as much as I want to keep her, I know it can’t be permanent.
She’s going to heal.
She’s going to leave.
And if I let myself fall now—if I crack open this heart and make room for her the way my mother and brother both suggest—then what happens when she’s gone?