52. Nick
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
NICK
The world slows to a stop the minute Mr. Trembly opens up his mouth.
The suddenness of it all stuns me into silence. Into a full-body shutdown.
This isn’t how I wanted this to go.
I can see Izzy walking away—the confusion on her face. I can see it, damnit, but my body refuses to move. In my head, I’m screaming for her to come back.
I can explain. This is a good thing.
It isn’t until she turns a sharp corner, and I can’t see her anymore, that I practically fall backwards. I almost land on the ground but catch myself at the last minute.
What the fuck?
I need to find her and explain. But she’s working, and as much as I want to, can I really get in the way of that?
I’m going around and around in circles in my head as the park fills with people. I should’ve been the one to tell Izzy. It should’ve been me. I had a million opportunities to open up and tell her the truth, but I was too fucking scared of losing her.
And where has that gotten me? I’ve probably just lost her anyway.
And I have no one to blame but my goddamn self.
Where could she have gone?
I follow her scent, weaving through the booths, the families, the excited Lunamois townies who never get nights like this.
She’s done so much for us.
“Nick.”
I close my eyes, trying desperately to tamp down the frantic, terrified emotion that threatens to swallow me whole. I turn slowly to Mayor Cole Vale just as he sticks his hand out for a shake.
“Mayor.” I give it one pump before dropping it. I need to find her. I can’t be having random conversations.
“You’ve exceeded my expectations—you and Ms. Gregory. I really appreciate the time and effort you both put into this event. Thank you,” he says through clenched teeth. As if giving a compliment is the most uncomfortable thing he’s ever had to do.
“Thank you.” If I come across as rude, he doesn’t seem to care. He nods his head and disappears into the crowd like a ghost. Probably back to his office to avoid any sort of social interaction.
The mass of people makes it hard to see the person beside you, let alone one small brunette woman. Her scent is too diluted by the sheer volume, and I can’t find her.
Desperation claws at my neck, threatening to choke me until I fall to my knees. Tears prick at my eyes.
I can’t lose her. I can’t lose another person. I can’t. I can’t.
I can’t.