Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
The inside of the van is still dim, the fairy lights dancing on the ceiling and the faintest hint of dawn creeping in through a split in the curtains.
It’s warm and cozy under the covers, and I can feel the weight of a heavy arm draped over my hip.
A contented sigh escapes my lips as I breathe in deeply, realizing that Nash is still beside me.
He stayed.
Turning in his arms, I find him still fast asleep, his mouth slightly open.
He looks so young like this, his disheveled hair adding to his boyish charm.
I can’t help but notice again how much he resembles Hunter when I look closer.
I bet their features would mirror each other if Hunter shaved the bushy beard covering half his face.
For a moment, I contemplate staying right here, wrapped up in this warmth.
Warm, safe, and not alone.
But my bladder informs me that my plan will not work out, and I reluctantly decide to get up. I carefully extract myself from Nash’s arms, trying not to wake him. He stirs but settles back to sleep, snoring slightly, making me chuckle.
I quietly grab some clothes, running gear, and my toilet bag, making sure not to make a sound when I slide open the door. Slipping out of the van, I walk to the restaurant, grateful for the minute of silence to catch my breath and sort out my thoughts.
He came because he didn’t want me to be alone.
He thought I was struggling, so he came to hold me.
He stayed the night, holding me the whole time.
And before all that, he punched one of his friends for trying to hurt me.
Even if I still want to deny it, I can’t.
He cares about me.
I don’t know to what extent or with what goal, but Nash Jones would not have been there, just holding me while sleeping in a shitty, cold van with an uncomfortable mattress, if he didn’t give a shit about me.
But what do I do with that information?
I decide to put a pin in it and go for a run. It would clear my head, and maybe I would be able to find a solution afterward.
It’s too early for such important thoughts.
As I leave the restaurant and walk back to the van, I jump, halting when I see a tall silhouette in front of the sliding door.
Did Adam come after all?
I’m about to turn and run back to the restaurant when a deep voice comes from the man who steps out of the shadows. “Blue.”
It’s North, standing in his running clothes with crossed arms and a decidedly grumpy expression.
Why is he grumpy? He just scared the shit out of me, not the other way around.
Crossing my arms instinctively over my chest, I stop in front of him. “What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice tinged with caution.
He answers with a simple statement, “We’re going on a run.”
We are?
I can’t help but laugh bitterly. “I’m going on a run. You can do whatever.”
North’s response catches me off guard. “And whatever is going on a run with you.”
I furrow my brow. “Why?” I ask, genuinely puzzled.
“Because I want you to be and feel safe,” he replies.
A shiver runs down my spine as I think about what happened that made him believe I might feel unsafe in the first place. “You guys can’t use what Adam did as an excuse to hang around all the time,” I protest.
Maybe that’s what Nash is doing. They see an opening because I’m scared.
North is resolute. “It’s not an excuse. We want to… no, need to make sure you’re safe, and honestly, I want you to be carefree again and not look over your shoulder and jump at everything like you just did. That’s not who you are.”
I make a grunting sound, embarrassed he had seen me so jumpy. “I don’t need your pity. I’m fine.”
“Do you feel safe?” he asks, his tone gentler now, but he clearly wants an honest answer because his gaze bores into mine.
I hesitate, unable to lie and tell him yes but unsure how to answer otherwise.
North continues, “As long as the answer to this question isn’t an enthusiastic yes, I’m going to be your shadow on your runs so you can feel safe.
I don’t think Adam would dare try anything again.
He’s a fucking coward, and Nash got him pretty good, but we all understand if you’re jumpy for a few more days. Do you want to report him?”
I shudder. “I don’t think I can do that, although I guess I should, so he won’t do it to anyone else.”
“It’s okay, I’m gonna handle it for you. You don’t have to think about him anymore.”
I mumble defensively, “I’m not a scared little girl.”
Although I am scared for sure.
Who wouldn’t be after that fuckup?
North takes a step forward, pushing a strand of hair that had fallen into my eyes back behind my ear. “No, you’re not. You’re a badass. But even badasses can use some backup from time to time. Ask Spider-Man. He would be lost without MJ.”
I can’t help but smirk. “So, in this scenario, I’m Spider-Man, and you’re MJ?”
He nods, a slight smirk forming on his lips too. “Sorry, Lio made us watch Spider-Man for the hundredth time.” He steps back and gestures toward the path. “Come on, let’s go. I won’t say a word and will give you enough space to just run and not think about anything. Do your thing.”
Did he really listen when I told him that? That I run to empty my head?
I nod, realizing it can’t hurt to have someone looking out for me. North is already here, and both of us would be going for a run anyway. So I start my jog with him trailing behind me at a respectful distance.
Running my usual track at my normal pace, I can almost forget that Satan is dogging my every step. But I don’t because knowing he has my back allows me to relax, making it easy to focus on my breathing and steps.
Soon, we’re back at the van again. Placing my hands on my knees, I take deep breaths, feeling my pulse in my throat.
When I straighten, I turn to look at North, but he’s already walking to his BMW parked at the end of the lot.
I only notice it now because the sun has finally risen, casting its light across the town.
Without a word, he gets in and drives off.
Okay, then.
I wonder if Nash is still here, but I want to freshen up before I check.
Feeling hot and sweaty, I walk back to the restaurant and enter the restroom to wash myself at the sink, changing into the black tights and gray sweater I had brought earlier.
When I’m finally done, I head back to the van, only to find it empty.
Why did that just make my stomach sink?
Getting inside, it still smells like Nash. I let myself fall back onto the bed, grabbing the pillow and sniffing it, making flutters spread in my stomach.
God, I’m so pathetic.
As I put the pillow back, it makes a crinkling sound, which isn’t a sound a pillow should make. I sit up and look where it landed, and I see a piece of paper with Nash’s scrawl across it. It’s another poem, and I spend way more time than I should reading it over and over again.