Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Nash
The sunrise is too damn pretty for a day like this.
Soft coral spilling across the sky. Gold bleeding up the horizon. It’s the kind of morning that belongs to beach picnics or lazy coffee on the porch. Not dropping the woman I love off at the airport and pretending I’m okay with it.
That’s right.
Love.
Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with Lucy Calder. Her gentle tenacity. Her bright smile. The warmth and depth in how she cares. It’s impossible to know her and not love her. Ask Bennett. Ask my mom. Ask Aunt Violet and Uncle Simon. From the moment you meet her, you want more.
Today, she’s quiet in the passenger seat. Her hand rests palm-up on her thigh, fingers twitching like she’s considering reaching for mine and then thinks better of it.
So I reach for hers instead.
I know she’s conflicted about leaving. Hell, I’m conflicted. I don’t want her to go. Not for a week. Not for a month. Definitely not for a year.
But Lucy was offered a second chance at a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Asking her not to take it would be selfish and shortsighted.
Yes, I’ll miss her. But no, I won’t stand in the way of her dreams.
This time, rather than wrapping my fist around love, I’m letting it go free.
Still, I drive slower than I need to. Just because I know I’m doing the right thing doesn’t automatically make it easy.
Her duffel’s in the backseat. So is her carry-on. We triple-checked everything before we left the house—passport, tickets, birth certificate. If there’s even a possibility she’ll need it, she has it. I made sure of that.
She’s dressed comfortably, leggings and an oversized sweatshirt that might’ve once belonged to me. Her hair’s up in a knot, sunglasses perched on her head. No makeup. No armor.
God, she’s beautiful.
And I’m about to let her walk away.
Lucy meets my eyes and I see echoes of my thoughts darting across her sweet face. She smiles and squeezes my hand. “The closer we get to the airport, the less sure I am that I’m making the right choice.”
“You know that awful cliché about getting to the end our life and regretting the things we didn’t do more than the things we did?”
“Yeah.” Lucy’s brows draw together and she rolls her eyes, already certain she knows what I’m going to say.
So I smile as I prove her right. “It’s a cliché for a reason, kid.”
“That might not be as profound as you think it is, Doc Gruff.” Her tone is light and teasing. Her hand squeezes mine. Outside the truck, the bay slides past, the sky clear and blue and radiant. I take a mental snapshot of the moment, determined never to forget how perfect she is for me.
“Hold on, now. Let me work my way to my point before you judge.” I drop her a quick wink before continuing.
“This tour? You’ve worked so hard for it.
Sacrificed so much. And when all seemed lost, instead of curling up in bed and crying about how unfair life is, you doubled down.
You tried to learn how to rehab your ankle yourself! Who does that?”
“If I recall, you were pretty sure that was the action of a reckless idiot when you first heard about it.”
I grimace. “Maybe you were right about my bedside manner.”
Lucy widens her eyes at that. “Wow. Look at you. Admitting someone else was right and that you were wrong in one breath. Maybe me leaving is affecting you more than we realize.”
We laugh together then fall into an easy silence as the world zooms by outside the truck.
“Nash?” Lucy asks after a few minutes.
“Yeah?”
“What if the thing I regret not doing is staying?” Her voice is low, her eyes locked on mine, so many questions dancing through them that all I want to do is draw her into my arms and tell her everything is going to be okay.
“Ah, see, look at you, bringing me right back to my point,” I say, giving her hand a squeeze. “This job? It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If you don’t do this now, you might never have another chance. Hence, regret. But me?” I scoff. “I’ll still be here when the tour is over.”
A slow smile warms Lucy’s face. “That better be true.”
“Careful what you wish for, babe. I told you; I don’t do casual. Once you’re inner circle, you have to work hard to lose the privilege.”
Silence stretches again. Lucy turns her face toward the window, watching the trees roll by. There’s a kind of reverence to her stillness. Like she’s soaking up the last of this place before she trades it for stadium lights and dress rehearsals.
I grip the steering wheel tighter. “You are doing the right thing, Lucy. And I’m proud of you for doing it.”
Even though it means loneliness will seep back into my life while she’s gone.
The airport creeps closer. We pass the Welcome to Jacksonville sign, and I take the exit, following the loop toward departures. It’s early enough that the terminal’s still half asleep, thank God. Fewer people. Less chaos.
I park at the curb and flick the hazard lights on.
Lucy doesn’t move right away. She just sits there, staring out the passenger window for a few minutes before finally taking a deep breath and turning to me, her blue eyes filled with a strange blend of excitement and sadness.
“I guess this is it, then.”
I nod, cupping her cheek. “You’re gonna do great.”
“I’m gonna miss you.”
“Oh, you better believe I’ll miss you too, but you’re gonna have so much fun and make so many memories and you can call me every day to share them with me.” I unclick my seatbelt to press a kiss to her forehead, breathing in the sweet scent of her shampoo.
She sighs deeply, then meets my eyes. “Okay,” she says with a dip of her chin and a sharp exhale. “Let’s do this.”
Then she unclicks her seatbelt and opens the door. I kill the engine and get out, grabbing her bags from the back. She turns to face me as I hoist the duffel onto her shoulder.
“Thank you for being so supportive,” she whispers, like respect is revolutionary.
“Thank you for reminding me how it feels to actually live instead of survive.”
Lucy lets out a shaky breath and steps into me, arms sliding around my waist, face pressed against my chest. I hold her tight—one hand on her back, the other cradling the back of her head. She smells like coconut and sunshine. Like home.
“Text me when you land,” I say against her hair.
“I will.”
“And when you get to the hotel.”
“Okay.”
“And every day after that until you get tired of me.”
She pulls back just enough to look at me. Her eyes shine, but she’s smiling. “I’ll never get tired of you.”
Lucy kisses me then. Slow. Sweet. Lingering. When she pulls away, I want to chase her mouth. To drag her back into the truck and keep driving until she forgets why she ever wanted to leave.
But I don’t.
Because love—real love—isn’t about possession.
It’s partnership. It’s standing with someone through the triumphs and the mess. It’s encouraging the things that make them whole, even when it challenges you to grow, too.
“Go chase your dream,” I say softly. “Show the world who you are.”
She touches my chest with trembling fingers. “And when I forget… remind me?”
“Always.”
Lucy turns to go, but stops a few steps away, clutching her bag like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.
“I’ll be here when you’re done,” I say, and she presses a hand to her chest, walking backwards now, eyes misting.
“Thank you,” she mouths, then turns away.
I don’t answer until she’s walking through the doors, her back straight but her steps slow.
Only then do I whisper it.
“I love you, Lucy.”