CHAPTER 26 #2
His eyes seemed to light when I almost cracked a smile, a grin touching his lips in response. “I have. My mom loved Hallmark, and like I mentioned, Bee likes it, too. I had very little say if the three of us were in front of the TV together. Women rule the roost in our house.”
That melted my heart. It was adorable to hear him being so respectful of his sister and mom. I could see it in the way he treated me, too. It was apparent there was a lot of female influence in his life.
I looked back at the screen. This movie was one of my favorites. The story took place in a castle, in a made-up country that resembled Austria. It had a Cinderella-type theme to it, one of my favorite plot lines. I’d seen it at least ten times.
“Do you still watch with your mom?” I asked. Challenging myself to maintain eye contact with him.
He shook his head, eyes becoming a little distant. “My mom passed away from cancer almost a decade ago. But I still watch with Bee from time to time.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Cat failed to mention this when she’d run the background check on him. Thank you, Cat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
He put a hand up to stop me. “No, don’t apologize.
My mom was amazing, and I’m glad you asked.
We love talking about her, so never feel bad bringing her up or asking questions.
” He paused. “You know, you kind of remind me of her. You have a very similar demeanor and shyness—it’s very reminiscent of how she was, too.
” He looked flustered but adorable, and happy to speak about this.
“She didn’t go out much, if ever, really.
Once, she didn’t leave the house for two entire years, not even for the dentist.”
I gave him a slight nod. “I get it. I’ve done that myself.
Pandemic years and all.” Pausing for a moment, I added, “I still do that.” I laughed, but the humor didn’t feel like it reached my face.
“When I’m at home, I can control what’s happening.
But outside my home? It’s just too much for me.
My mind operates on a higher frequency, I think, and the world seems too sharp.
” I bit my lip, thinking that was a good way to explain it.
“Honestly, why bother with something uncomfortable if you’re not getting anything out of it?
It just feels like a waste of time; time I could spend enjoying myself and feeling good. ”
He held my gaze and listened.
This fortified me. “I know it’s important to push myself to experience new things and feelings, but I believe there’s a limit to that.
For example, I will never enjoy being an actor on stage, or hosting a party of people at my house.
You won’t ever find me in a crowded bar, or dancing in a nightclub.
It’s not who I am.” I almost felt raw at that admission.
He reached forward, taking my hand from my lap and cradling it.
“My mother felt the same way. We aren’t all built to live in the world the way it is today.
I see nothing wrong with that. My mom made our home all we could ever want or need.
She made it into a snow globe filled with all the best things all in one place, because to her, it was. ”
I could see it in his eyes then—genuine love for a parent—I longed to know what that felt like.
Picking up a piece of cheese, he handed it to me. “Here, try this.”
Glancing between Nash and the piece of cheese, I reached for it, his fingertips brushing mine as I took it. I brought it to my mouth and nibbled a bite, his eyes fixed on my lips the entire time.
It was an aged Gouda, and it had a soft, waxy texture, and a sharp tang. My mouth came alive with the flavor. I took another sip of my drink, finding it a delightful mix.
“You know,” he began, chuckling, “Catherine actually knew my mother, if you can believe that.”
I stopped chewing, surprised, but also cursing her once again. This was typical of her to withhold vital information. “She did? How? What did she tell you at the hospital?”
He shrugged, his large shoulders rising and falling with such weight that it shook the bed.
“Apparently, Catherine knew my mother’s therapist. Catherine made it sound as though they’d collaborated.
She mentioned that you and my mom faced similar challenges, and they’d worked to create comparable strategies. ”
I grinned but shook my head in disbelief and annoyance. His gaze focused on my lips, his lips mimicking mine in a smile.
He went on, “Cat was eager about the idea of you being with us and staying here. I think she saw the rare opportunity for what it was. Of all the options for you after the fire, our house was the perfect place. It’s like some kind of divine intervention that we all came together like this.
” He looked away again, as though shy about what he said next.
“I just want you to know that you can be comfortable here, for real. Bee and I will never judge. No one understands better than we do.”
Warmth spread through my chest, and the anxiety drained from me, bit by bit.
Knowing he understood my struggle made all the difference.
I’ve always craved that connection, that feeling of being seen for all I am, good and bad.
I needed someone who’d challenge me, who wouldn’t let me back down; someone strong enough to carry the weight when I couldn’t.
With a weight off my chest, I didn’t feel the crushing responsibility of having to handle it alone.
Most of my fear stemmed from worrying about what others thought of me, how they’d react to my actions, since I often wasn’t in control of them.
I was terrified of panicking, and in those moments, all I could picture were people staring and judging, just like my parents used to.
It was so odd being exposed like this, and yet accepted.
I squeezed his hand as he cradled it, embracing the connection and support. He was quick to interlock our fingers, reciprocating. Physical interaction seemed to come so easily to him, and I soaked it in as though rain in the desert.
“I hope your day went okay?” he asked with a squeeze of my hand.
The question held so much weight. The day was fraught with anxiety and tension, but having someone ask me how my day was? I loved it.
“It went,” I answered.
“My day was busy, or I would have checked on you sooner. I’m sorry I had to leave you alone. Looks like they made good progress on your house, though. It’s almost gutted, and they pressure washed the smoke stains from the front facade.”
“I’ve been afraid to check. I feel so—” I stopped myself, not wanting to admit I felt guilty.
“What did the fire report say?”
My heart started pounding. Of course, he was going to ask. “Candles,” I blurted. “I left candles lit in my library.” At least now my guilt could show.
He was quiet for a moment before he replied. “Oh, wow. You had a lot of books, too. I recall you telling me that, like thousands, right?”
“A real fire-starter.” I laughed, but it felt hollow.
He squeezed my hand three times. “We’ll have to get you new books, then. Start a list, and I’ll drop by the store when I get a chance. How does that sound?”
I squeezed his hand back three times. “I’d love that.”
He winked. “I need the next Montana Man book, anyway. I finished the first book.”
My cheeks heated. “You honestly liked it?”
His eyes widened with humor. “More than I’d like to admit. He’s me, after all, and he has such amazing ‘ducks’!” he joked, like he had over text.
I barked out a laugh, and he watched me as though in wonder of the sound.
“You have the best laugh. I wanted so badly to know what it sounded like for so long, and now it’s my new favorite sound.” His thumb caressed mine in a slow pattern across my skin.
I brushed a joyful tear from my eye and looked back at the TV screen. His comment felt personal, so I hid from it. I pressed my lips together before picking up a handful of fruit, filling my mouth so I wouldn’t say anything stupid in return. His laugh was my new favorite sound, too.