Nick
Two weeks.
It’s been almost two fucking weeks since I’ve held her.
I don’t know where the line is anymore. She asked for space, and I owe her that. I already took something from her that wasn’t mine to take. The last thing I want to do is ignore another boundary because I can’t handle being without her.
But Christ, I miss her.
Every afternoon, Grady climbs into my truck and tells me about his day, and somehow Mrs. Harrison makes it into every story.
She liked his picture.
She let him pass out the crayons.
She helped peel his orange because his dad is a fucking moron and forgot.
I love hearing him talk about her. I also fucking hate hearing it.
Why?
Because he gets to spend all day with the woman I can’t even get to answer a text.
Yep, I’m jealous of a five-year-old.
God, I’m such a selfish, self-centered prick. What kind of dad thinks that way?
Yesterday in the pickup line, our eyes met through my windshield. She looked pale and exhausted, almost devoid of that usual spark that makes her so unmistakably Leah. She was still beautiful enough to make my chest ache, but she was just … not herself.
I smiled, and she gave me a tired one in return before turning her attention back to the kids.
Every instinct in me screamed to get out of the truck, to go to her and pull her against me. To tell her I’m sorry. To ask for another chance. To do anything that might put that light back in her eyes.
Instead, I stayed where I was.
She'll come to me when she's ready—at least, I hope she will.
I know I can’t buy her forgiveness. That was never the point of the gifts. I just wanted her to have little reminders that she deserves to feel special and cared for—even from a distance.
We're going to get through this.
I have to believe we will.
Grady’s been asleep in my arms for the last twenty minutes, his cheek pressed against my chest while the movie keeps playing in front of us.
I should put him to bed, but I can’t bring myself to move.
Shantae stopped by for our first home visit a few days ago.
Walking through the house, she checked out Grady’s bedroom, ensuring he had clean clothes and a safe place to sleep.
She glanced through my kitchen and the bathrooms, confirming I had plenty of food Grady would eat, and that medicine, cleaning supplies, and sharp objects were secured and out of reach.
Fire alarms were in working order, and my firearms were locked away.
She spent some time alone with Grady before we discussed school and his medical follow-ups, and how he was adjusting to … well, everything.
Before she left, Shantae told me she had no concerns about his safety or care in my home and would be recommending that his placement with me continue.
I'm not sure if it's appropriate, but I hugged her. How could I not? Because of her, my world was back in my arms.
There are still court dates ahead of us, more home visits, and plenty left to sort through, but for now, Grady is home.
Because I am a man possessed, I scroll back through my text exchanges with Leah as the movie credits roll. I still chuckle at the night she confessed that prime numbers make her uncomfortable.
I stop on the conversation where she told me she was only allowed to listen to Christian music growing up. When she was nine, she went to a sleepover and heard her first secular song. The way she talked about it, I figured she’d gotten her hands on some forbidden heavy metal or some freaky R she deserves the reassurance of my devotion and my loyalty.
She deserves to be worshipped.
I lower myself to my knees.
“Leah … I don’t know how I ended up in front of the most gorgeous, most selfless woman I’ve ever known, but I know I don’t deserve you. I have never deserved the way you’ve loved me.”
Her chin trembles as tears spill freely down her cheeks.
“You trusted me with pieces of yourself you kept hidden from everyone else. You handed me your hurt, your fears, and instead of guarding them with my life, I betrayed you.” My throat tightens.
“It was your story, baby. Your pain. Your choice. And after everything you’ve survived, I became another man who made a decision about your life without asking you first. I would give anything to take it back, but I can’t.
” I blow out a shaky breath. “All I can do is try to make it better … if you’ll let me.
And I will, Leah Grace. I’ll keep trying for as long as it takes, even if that means for the rest of my damn life because …
” My grip tightens around her hands. “I love you. God, I love you so, so much. I think I’ve been in love with you since the first time I saw you with your hair in that frilly little braid crown with a pack of playing cards in your back pocket. ”
She lets out a giggle in between her tears, and it's the most breathtaking thing I've heard all night.
I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss her fingers.
“These last two weeks without you have made one thing painfully clear: I need you. I am so tangled up in you that I don’t know where I end and you begin anymore.
” My voice cracks. “I am so damn sorry I hurt you. I understand if you need more time. I’ll give it to you, if you want.
Space? Tell me how much, and I’ll figure out how I'll survive. But darlin’, you're it for me.” I press another kiss to her fingers.
“Please, give me the chance to love you better.”
Her fingers curl around mine, and then she brings my hand to her mouth. The soft press of her lips against my knuckles damn near breaks me.
“I miss you, too,” she whispers.
The air escapes my lungs. “Yeah?”
Her face crumples into the sweetest, saddest smile. “Yeah.” Another tear slips down her cheek. “I love you, too, Nick.”
I rise to my feet. Cupping her face, I press a kiss to her lips.. She laughs against my mouth, and the heavenly sound nearly undoes me. I never want to stop.
Her hands settle against my chest.
And she gently pushes me back.
That’s when I see the cohesive bandage wrapped around her elbow, a special tape we use on patients after blood draws and an IV removals.
My stomach drops.
My thumb brushes the edge of it. “What happened?”
Her eyes close. “Nick, I … I don’t know how to tell you this.”
I slowly nod. “That’s okay. Just … just tell me … when you're ready. I'm right here. I promise—I’m not going anywhere.”
She opens her eyes and looks at me, panic draining the color of her skin.
“Nick …” My name is barely audible. She presses a trembling hand to her mouth, fighting to get the words out. “They think my cancer’s back.”