Chapter 16
chapter
sixteen
MAREN
“You made a lot of changes in here.” I point to the two recliners where his parents’ couch used to sit. Instead, Nate’s positioned the couch we’re lying on along the wall, with a love seat across from us.
“We’re planning on painting the kitchen and remodeling the bathrooms too. I promised Teagan a playroom. We’re going to pick out furniture and decorations next week.”
I hum, contemplating the updates. It’s an older home, much like my own, so it makes sense that he’d have a list of improvements.
Still, resistance pinches my heart’s edges. This house means almost as much to me as my own, and it’s hard to imagine important pieces of it being replaced or disappearing altogether.
“Teagan wants bubble gum pink for the kitchen, which I had to veto, but we agreed to use the color in the playroom, instead.” His chuckle causes my body to vibrate, and I close my eyes, wishing I could disappear into that sound.
There’s something about Nate’s laugh that eases the tension in my soul. Like I’ve been carrying a bag of bricks on my shoulders for years, and his laugh, coupled with his arms around me, effortlessly lifts the weight.
“She also wants a rainfall shower head installed in her bathroom,” he continues. “It’s amazing what things she and the other kids her age know about these days. Thank you, internet.”
“When we were her age, we just played in the rain without a clue that we could ever make a storm in our own shower.” I smile, very aware that we sound like his mom and dad, who go on and on about how different things are now compared to their childhoods.
The echo of a train sprinting down the nearby tracks fills the brief silence before Nate shifts his hand over my stomach, and the blanket falls down my shoulder.
“Remember the time you slipped in the mud and slid down the hill at the tracks? Instead of being scared, you threw your hands into the air and cheered.”
My smile grows as I remember how fearless I once was. “We caused a whole frenzy with the other neighborhood kids that day.”
“What did we call it?”
“The Cedar Circle Championship,” I muse, recalling how angry the other parents were.
Our moms got calls for days after their kids came home with bruised knees and elbows. But it didn’t stop any of us from sneaking out to the railroad tracks to race each other down the hill. We did it every afternoon until the mud dried up.
I jut my chin up. “I was the reigning champion.”
His lips curve against the back of my head like he’s smirking. “I totally let you win, you know.”
I jolt up and turn toward him. “You did not! I won fair and square.”
I come face-to-face with his smirk as he rises onto his elbow, and the blanket dips lower, revealing more of the lion’s head tattoo. It’s still dark with only the side table lamp illuminating the space, but it’s enough to admire it. It’s impressive, no matter the story there.
“I launched myself off the hill a good two seconds after the go-ahead to give you a head start.” He shrugs.
“You’re lying.” I gape.
He clutches his chest, and his large hand nearly covers the lion’s head. The ink continues under his arm and down his side. It’s too dark to make out the designs or to confirm where the tattoos end, but it doesn’t stop me from wondering.
“You were too cute when you won,” he teases. “I couldn’t take that away from you. I figured it was time you knew the truth now, though.”
“Nathan McAllister—I never would’ve expected you to be such a sore loser. Enough to lie? That’s low.” I tsk.
“Fine. You caught me.” He exaggerates a pout. “I’m just trying to save face.”
I run my fingers through his hair and bring my lips two centimeters from his. “That’s what I thought.” I try to pull back, but he captures my mouth in a playful, giddy kiss that reaches my toes.
He steals my breath with each swipe of his tongue and every memory that comes along with it. The way he told me to relax and breathe—it was like the first time we were ever together.
We took each other’s virginity on a blanket in a field outside of town the night of junior prom. I don’t know who was more nervous, him or me, and he’d told me to breathe as if he was saying it for his own benefit too. It was sweet and thoughtful, and it made the whole experience that much better.
Of course, I expected nothing less. Not with Nate.
I’m wrapped in these memories like this blanket, warm and fuzzy, and yet, so much about tonight is completely, exhilaratingly, dizzyingly new.
He’s such a man now. There’s no other way to explain him. He’s all lean, corded muscle with thick, skillful fingers that are so in tune with my body; I’m pretty sure he knows me better than I know myself.
I’ve certainly never brought myself to orgasm like he did. Everything I’ve ever known about myself sexually has dissolved in the last hour, thanks to him.
“That was when you started calling me Lightning,” I whisper.
His heavy swallow echoes between us.
“You’re the only one I ever let call me that.”
His hooded gaze finds mine. “It’s why I gave Owen a bloody nose.”
“You beat up your own friend for me.”
“I didn’t want anyone else calling you that—it was ours.” His voice grows faint, like he’s traveling to another time alongside me.
When we were happy.
“It was the first time I knew I was in love with you, and I’d do anything for you,” he confesses.
I gulp and realize how dry my throat is. How quiet his house is, except for the whispers of the past that still exist here, no matter how much time has passed or what changes Nate might make to its interior.
I shift next to him, rising into a fully seated position as the air thickens around us. “I, um, need some water,” I croak. “I’ll be right back.”
“Stay. I’ll get it.” With a gentle hand on my forearm, he guides me to remain in my spot, and he throws his legs over the edge of the couch.
My attention is glued on his every move as he dips low to scoop his boxers off the floor and slide them on. I gulp again from the close-up view of his ass, so round with dimples on each side that blink just before he covers himself.
The material deliciously stretches over his taut skin.
He makes the simple task too sensual, and heat floods my core all over again.
Nate’s always had such a larger-than-life presence. A light I always gravitated toward—I could never help myself. I wanted to bask in it like I did the sun in the summer.
He’s always been a force I could never control myself against, and I never wanted to.
It felt too good to be his. To be wanted by this all-consuming man.
Everyone loved him. And he loved me. That kind of power was addictive.
“Here you go.”
I tighten the blanket around my otherwise bare chest and thank him for the cool glass. He sets a matching one onto the coffee table for himself and sinks onto the cushion next to me, his shadowy profile facing me.
I can’t see all of him, and unease bites at my nerve endings.
I’ve never been uncomfortable in this house before. It’s always been a second home to me, in large part because of him, but even since he’s been gone, I have found solace here with his parents.
They’ve always welcomed me. I even had a spare key to come and go as I pleased.
Right now, though, things are different. Nate and I are different people, whose lives haven’t intertwined in years. That much is even more obvious as pictures from the end table, plus those on the mantel, stare back at me.
His travels. His family. His life outside of Sapphire Creek.
Reminders of how much he’s experienced without me.
“Teagan lost her first tooth that day.” Nate points to the picture I’m currently studying. “We’d gone to the beach all together. Her mother and I were divorced by then, but we’ve always been friends. It was a good thing she was there too, because we hate missing the big moments.”
“Understandably.”
“We couldn’t find the tooth in the sand. We searched for an hour, and Teagan cried because she didn’t think the Tooth Fairy would visit her without the tooth under her pillow.” He scratches his jaw, frowning. “She wouldn’t let us leave until we found the tooth.”
“What did you do?”
“Soothed her the best we could until we got home and tucked her into bed. It broke my heart, until Sabrina wrote a note from the Tooth Fairy, clipped it to a five-dollar bill, and left them both under her pillow. I think Teagan still has the note somewhere—with the ones from Santa and a few leprechauns too.”
I smile. “You’re a good dad.”
“Sabrina’s a good mom.” He nods and dips his head. “I’m the kind of dad who somehow loses his daughter in his own apartment, only to find her stuck in the bottom drawer of a dresser.”
“What?” I almost drop the glass from my lap and set it onto the coffee table next to his, where it’s safe.
“Not my finest moment.” Nate grips the back of his neck, and I’m sure if I could see him better, the lines of concern marring his features would be more devastating.
The drop in his tone says enough. “Teagan was three, and I still don’t know how it happened.
I remember calling her name and getting a giggle in response.
She was hiding from me, playing a joke and thinking it was funny, but I couldn’t breathe. ”
I slide my hand into his and thread our fingers together.
“When I finally found her, I was afraid to tear the dresser apart. I could’ve hurt her, but I was able to jimmy it open, eventually.”
“She was all right, though?”
“Not a scratch.” He lifts his eyes toward me. “She wasn’t scared in the slightest, either. Not like me. I was a nervous wreck and couldn’t take my eyes off her for weeks.”
“Kids do all kinds of things, Nate. You can’t protect them from everything.”
“Another lesson of many that I’m still learning and trying to accept.”
“Aren’t we all still learning in one way or another?” I rest my head on his shoulder, the soft glow of the lamp like the one from a small fire.
Nate snuggles under the blanket with me, draping my legs over his lap and then splaying his fingers across my upper thigh. “You seem to have things figured out.”
“Pfft. I’m good at pretending. Fake it ’til you make it, right?”
“I’d say you’re making it just fine.” He squeezes my thigh with encouragement, and I appreciate the vote of confidence.
It hasn’t felt like I’ve been doing “just fine” lately, but I like hearing that I am from Nate.
“I am surprised you opened a coffee truck, though,” he continues. “How did that happen?”
“It started with a fun fact between Dixie and me.”
“I like this story already.”
“We found out that coffee had once been banned in some parts of the world because leaders believed the drug led to radical thinking. I found myself digging deeper and deeper into the world of coffee, and I bought myself an espresso machine to experiment with all the different ways you can make it.” I push off him and angle my body to face him as my heart races like I’ve had three cups of espresso myself.
“It’s insane how many combinations can be made.
There’s something for everyone too—unless you’re Annabelle, who will only accept tea. ”
“You don’t offer tea at your truck, do you?”
“No, but it doesn’t stop her from asking every week.” I roll my eyes. “But she buys enough cookies for an army in between complaints, so I let it slide.”
“Teagan talks nonstop about your cookies, and I don’t blame her. They’re amazing.”
My chest swells.
“Why didn’t you open a bakery?” he asks. “You could offer a much bigger selection of cookies and still have your coffee options.”
The buzz coursing through me from my excitement of discussing my business careens to a screeching halt.
Coming from Nate, this hits differently than when Dixie asked me the same.
I stifle a frown and shrug, dipping back down to lean on his shoulder. After all, he doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s a fair question, even. “I thought about a bakery, but when I laid eyes on the truck, it just felt right. Like it was meant for me.”
It’s not the whole truth, but it’s not a total lie, either.
“You’ve done a great job. And more than that, I’m happy you love it so much.”
“I do.” My eyelids suddenly cave under the weight of the day, which started at said coffee truck before the sun rose this morning. This is way past my usual bedtime, and after the sex we just had, my body is as sated as it is exhausted. I don’t think running a marathon would make me this tired.
I stifle a yawn behind my hand and manage to ask, “What about you? How did it feel to travel the world?”
“It was…” He blows out a breath, his pause heavy like he’s contemplating the right way to sum up the last few years—and his dreams coming true—in a single word. “Extraordinary,” he finishes, shifting behind me.
I expect an air of awe in his voice, but I detect hesitation, instead. Something’s off in his tone that makes me think he only said as much because it’s what he assumes I want to hear. Did he mean to say something else? Does he even realize that he sounds unsure?
I want to pry every last detail out of him, but I settle for, “I can imagine.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, his arms still wrapped around me. I could fall asleep so easily. So peacefully.
“What are you going to do now that you’re not jet-setting off to exotic places?” I ask absentmindedly, forcing myself awake.
I’m not ready for this night to end. Not yet.
“What are you talking about? There are plenty of exotic places around here. I even found some ant hills in the backyard in the shape of a heart. Easily a front-page feature photo,” he says, followed by a good-natured laugh.
He sounds far more awake than I feel, and I take a deep breath, as if it’s possible to inhale some of his energy.
“Hey, it’s the little things, right?” I muse.
“Definitely,” he says, his tone low and sober. Nate cups my chin, angles me to the side, and places a kiss to my lips.
It’s been only a few minutes since his last kiss, but it’s felt longer. It’s like I didn’t realize how cold my lips had gotten until he warmed them with his own again.
I cling to his biceps and arch into him, reveling in the heat radiating off his body like I’m flying close to the sun.
That’s the feeling that swallows me when I’m around him, except there’s a reason the story of Icarus ends with him plummeting to his demise.
And I learned the lesson myself once.
Nate burned me then, and as he sears me with his kiss again, the intensity of him lapping at my flushed skin like flames, alarm bells echo in my ear.
But they fade as quickly as they rang, and I succumb to the louder call of sleep.
In Nate’s embrace, I never stood a chance.