Nick
“Language, Crawford.” Declan clicks his tongue before chuckling humorlessly. “Listen, this is all a big misunderstanding.”
I take one deliberate step toward him, forcing him to crane his neck to meet my eyes. “Then let me clear it up for you, asshole.” I raise my voice. “I said Get … the fuck … away … from her.”
“Hey, pal—” he stumbles backward—“I don't appreciate your tone.”
“And I don't appreciate how you're talking to her. You are not going to speak to her like that.”
Declan stares at me for a moment.
Then … this asshole laughs.
He fucking laughs.
My hands ball into fists as rage clouds my vision. Whatever disdain I felt for Declan before this moment pales in comparison to the fury burning through me now.
A gentle hand presses to my back, pulling me from my haze. I spin around to find Leah standing inches away from me, tears streaming down her face. Before I can stop myself, my hand cups her cheek, my thumb brushing gently across her skin.
“Darlin’, did he hurt you?”
She catches her breath, adamantly shaking her head no.
“I think it's time you take your hands off of my wife,” Declan sneers, stepping to my side.
Wife.
I heard it the first time moments ago, but now that I'm hearing it again with Leah so close I could taste her, something in my chest cracks.
“Wife?” I search her eyes.
She quickly shakes her head. “No. He's not my husband. Not anymore.”
“The state can sign whatever papers it wants,” Declan cuts in, “but in the eyes of the Lord, she is mine.”
I turn to face him, shielding Leah with my body. “And this is how you treat someone your God gave you?”
His lips curl. “She never seems to mind how I treat her when it's just the two of us.”
“You're disgusting—”
“Says the degenerate.”
I narrow my eyes. Crossing my arms, I slowly step forward.
“What? You think I'm immune to the hospital gossip, huh?” He snickers. “The cocky hotshot. The serial flirt. The doctor with a different nurse hanging on his arm every other month.”
I don't move as he taunts.
“Are you just going to stand there—?”
“Declan—”
“Hush, Leah.” He keeps his gaze trained on me. “Nick Crawford. All bark, but no bite.”
“You haven't said one thing that isn't true,” I interrupt. “But I'd rather be a sinner than the kind of man who makes the woman he's supposed to love cry.”
He furrows his brow as a crimson hue creeps up his neck.
Before I can blink, Declan's hands slam into my chest.
“Stop it!” Leah screams.
I absorb the shove without taking a step, staring him down.
With a growl, he lunges at me.
I slip to the side and catch him by the forearm, stopping his momentum. “Easy, big guy.” I release him with a small push backward. “Take a breath.”
“Hey, Dec! You back here?”
I glance over to see a tall man with sandy blond hair approaching us.
Declan immediately smooths the front of his shirt and runs a hand through his hair. “Hey, Matt. Need me?” He closes the distance between them, and the two quietly discuss festival matters.
“Lee?” Matt chuckles, turning toward Leah. “I thought you were helping Mom and Rach.”
She forces a smile. “I was. Just ... taking a minute.”
Matt's expression brightens when he notices me. He extends his hand. “Oh, hey! You're the guy from the gym. Julian's friend.”
I give him a firm shake. “Good to see you again.”
“You too ...” His gaze drifts to Leah, who still has a fistful of the back of my shirt. He raises an eyebrow. “How … do you know my sister?”
“He's a good friend of Chelsea's,” Leah answers quickly. “And the father of one of my students this year.” She lets out a nervous laugh before releasing my shirt and folding her hands behind her back.
Matt hums thoughtfully before flashing a crooked grin. “Well, I'm glad you made it out to our harvest festival—uh, Nick, was it?”
I nod. “Thanks for having us. We've had a great time.”
Matt pivots toward Declan. “Sorry to cut this short, but I've got a few older church members threatening to go AWOL if I don't turn down the music.” He chuckles. “Dec, you coming?”
Declan takes a step toward Leah, but I step into his path. His jaw tightens as his eyes meet mine. Then he looks past me to Leah. “I'll call you.” He softly smiles. “We'll figure this out, okay, angel?”
The two men step back into the festival, disappearing into the sea of families.
I let out a long breath before turning to find Leah leaning against the side of the trailer, her hands braced on her knees.
“Hey ...” I step toward her. “Are you okay?”
“Mmhmm,” she whispers, refusing to meet my gaze. She hurriedly wipes at her face. “I'm fine—”
I don't let her finish. I gently take her by the arm and pull her against my chest.
The tension melts from her body. She clutches the front of my shirt as a shuddering breath escapes her, the sobs she'd been holding back finally breaking free.
“Shhh,” I murmur into her hair. “You're safe now. It's okay. I've got you.”
Her body shakes against mine, each sob a little weaker than the one before.
I hold her tighter, one hand cradling the back of her head, and she settles into my embrace with an ease that steals the breath from my lungs.
Little by little, the rigidity leaves her body until she's simply resting against me, letting herself be held.
She doesn't rush, and neither do I. Hell, I'd stand here all night if that's what she needed.
She shifts in my arms, looking up at me. “I'm sorry you had to see that.”
I grimace. “Me?” I shake my head. “Leah ... don't you dare apologize.” My voice softens. “No one should ever treat you like that.”
The corner of her mouth lifts. “It was my fault.”
“No, Leah—”
“It was.” She nods.
“How?”
She sighs, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “I probably shouldn't be telling you this.”
A small grin crawls across my face. “I distinctly remember you wanting to be my friend once upon a time when I was keeping things to myself.”
“Oh yeah? How did that turn out for you?”
I shrug. “Eh, I can't seem to get rid of you.”
We share a look as her smile appears—brief, but always so perfect.
“Seriously, though, what could you have possibly done to warrant all of that bullshit?”
She takes a couple of deep breaths as she worries with the hem of her shirt. “I, um … I filed for divorce three years ago. That's not exactly something that's approved of in the church. Like, at all.”
I stay quiet, letting her continue.
“Most people didn't know until recently.” She stares out into the night. “Declan stopped paying alimony months ago, and I finally filed a motion to enforce it. Now … everyone knows.”
“Is that why you took the job at Low Places?”
She nods. “Money's really, really tight. I left Declan with no job, no degree, and a mountain of medical bills.” Her shoulders sag.
“I had to move back in with my parents, which was humiliating—not to mention I was suddenly being treated like a child again.” She lets out a humorless laugh.
“They weren't about to help me, though. They called it the consequences of my sin.”
“Jesus.”
She snorts. “Literally.”
“So ... your family's really religious?”
“You could say that.” Another quiet laugh escapes her. “This is my dad's church. He's the senior pastor.”
Fuck a duck.
“Your dad's the pastor?”
“And my brother, Matt? He's the worship pastor.”
“Good grief. You're, like, grandfathered into heaven. You could be doing all sorts of sinning and shit.”
She barks out another laugh.
“Damnit, now I really am going to hell. I have no clue how many times I've said fuck in front of you—see? There's another time.”
“Stop.” She laughs, nudging me in the ribs.
“So … Do you still go to church then?”
She quietly nods. “Every Sunday.”
“Every Sunday?”
“What can I say? I'm a creature of habit.”
“But you must also enjoy it, right?”
A silence falls between us. Sadness clouds her eyes as she looks out across the festival. She blinks, as if remembering where she is at. “I'm sorry. What?”
I give her a cordial grin, shaking my head. “Nevermind.”
“I'm sorry. I'm just—”
“Stop … with … the apologies, woman.”
She bites her lower lip as she blushes again. “Sorry … I mean—”
“There it is again!” I tease, pointing at her.
“I'm sorry—”
“Oh my God … You can't stop, can you?”
She covers her face in embarrassment. “I'm sorry—dangit!”
I laugh, pulling her close and pretending to look in the loose braid of her hair. “Where is the off switch?”
She giggles, grabbing my wrists and pulling my hands off of her.
But she doesn't let go.
Her touch lingers as our laughter fades into a comfortable silence. Our eyes meet, and just like every other time she's looked at me that way, warmth spreads through my chest before settling low in my belly.
And, fuck, I want to push her against this wall and kiss her and claim her and—
“He's over here—Nick!” The terror in Lizzie's voice cuts through the night. “Nick! Come quick! It's Grady!”
Before I can think, I break into a sprint toward the bounce houses. A wall of people has already formed, parents standing on their toes, children weaving between legs to get a better look. I shove my way through the crowd, not bothering with apologies.
Then I see him.
Julian is on the ground, cradling Grady's small body. His tiny legs kick violently as his hands claw frantically at his throat.
I lock eyes with Julian.
“Crawford!” His voice cracks. “He can't breathe!”