Chapter 39
chapter
thirty-nine
NATE
I pace the gap between our houses much like I did the night of Homecoming when we were in high school.
My nerves had been shot before I ever saw Maren, all because I knew I’d finally confess my real feelings for her that night. I wanted more than friendship, but I’d been prepared to accept a platonic relationship if that’s all she had to offer.
I just really, badly, pathetically hoped she’d feel the same for me.
It worked out then, but what about now?
A storm of nerves wreaks havoc through my stomach.
Her car is in the driveway—Maren is home.
I should march over there, drop to my knees, and apologize until I’m blue in the face—and then apologize some more.
It’s been a long weekend, and the uncomfortable revelations are heavy on my shoulders. I should rest in order to think more clearly before the exhaustion causes me to fumble over my words. I could screw this up again, and what good would that do me?
I’ve fucked this up so many times.
I dig my heel into the soft dirt beneath my boot once more when I hear, “Would you just come over here already?”
Maren clutches the railing of her porch and leans over, the loose strands of her hair blowing in the evening breeze. The soft glow from the light over her head cascades over her features, glinting off her eyes. From here, the balls of her cheeks look rosy.
I didn’t hear her door open. How long has she been watching me? Has she witnessed my entire internal struggle?
I blow out a heavy breath and trudge toward her, my feet like lead as I cross her driveway and climb the few steps.
Once I’m next to her, my lungs squeeze.
I was right about the crimson in her cheeks, but what I couldn’t see before is the dip of her lips. The shape of her curvy legs in those leggings. The bob of her throat as she swallows.
The swells of her breasts in her V-neck sweater.
She’s so damn beautiful, and being this close to her after the last few days apart snaps something inside me—possibly my remaining grip on self-control.
“I suck,” I blurt.
Her lips part.
I stare.
A car flashes its headlights over us as it continues around the cul-de-sac in front of our houses.
I wasn’t this nervous when I landed my first major photography assignment. In fact, the only time in my life where I’ve been more nervous was when Teagan was born.
“A little,” Maren finally says, with a small smile that is basically an arrow straight to my chest—in a good way. “But I suck too.”
“So.” I sway toward her, but I keep a healthy two feet of distance between us. If I get any closer, I won’t be able to stop myself from scooping her into my arms before we’ve had a real conversation. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way…”
She tucks her hair behind her ear, but the breeze has other plans. The strands fly across her cheek again in a dance all their own, but she doesn’t attempt to remove them a second time. Instead, her gaze drifts onto mine and is glued there.
Like nothing else matters.
“But for the record,” I whisper, “I don’t think you suck.”
Another of her swallows has me following the movement with more intensity than I do a moving target with my camera.
“I do,” she says. “I suck at axe throwing too.”
My lips twitch.
“Long story.” She rubs her forehead, her sharp inhale echoing across the quiet evening. “I have so much to explain, but I don’t know where to begin. I’m such a mess.”
“How about we start by going inside?” I tilt my head toward the door for her to lead the way, and she doesn’t hesitate.
She slips her hand into mine, and my body relaxes a fraction.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she calls over her shoulder and starts to untangle her fingers from mine, but I stop her.
I tighten my grip on her and close the door behind me. “I just want to talk.”
In the living room, neither of us sits. We continue holding hands, and while it’s a good sign, I’m still nervous as hell. We’re at a standstill, and I can’t take the suspense any longer.
“Maren, I need you to know that I’m happy for you. I only want what’s best for you, and you know what that is better than anyone. I never want you to think otherwise. I—”
“I know.” She finally sits on the edge of the couch and tugs me down too. “My freak-out had more to do with me than you.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s come to my attention that I might have some abandonment and trust issues. Some self-worth issues too.” She twists her lips like the words taste bitter. “I hate how that makes me sound, but it’s all true. I’m working on them.”
I furrow my brows.
“My father left, and so did Dixie’s.” She inhales again, her chest expanding and deflating as she says, “I never could trust a man to stay, and then…”
She doesn’t need to say it.
I left too.
I left her for California. All I took with me was a promise that she’d come because I wanted so badly to believe LA was what was best for us both.
I thought it was where we needed to be in order to succeed to the fullest.
I never considered an alternative. I never stopped to ask her if it was what she needed.
“I’m glad you went, Nate. That’s where you needed to be.” Her swallow is thick. “I just… I think I pushed you away because it was easier for me to grasp that you’d easily forget me. All my life, I’ve believed there’s nothing special about me. Not special enough for people to stick around.”
My body closes in on me like I’m in the midst of a claustrophobic episode. “I hate that I ever made you feel that way.” I barely get the words out. They hurt—everything hurts.
“But that’s just it.” She slips her hand into mine.
“You didn’t. You actually made me feel valuable, but it’s not something I understood then.
I just knew fear, and I let it run my life where you were concerned.
” A sheen of tears builds over her doe eyes.
“I took out my insecurities on you then, and I did the same now. It’s not fair.
I created a problem where there wasn’t one because I was scared you’ll leave again, and I picked us apart and pushed you away.
But I want to be good enough for you to stay with me, just as I am, and if that’s not—”
“Lightning, baby.” I scoot closer and grip the back of her head with my hand, my fingers stretching into her hair. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
A strangled sob breaks through her trembling lips.
I lean my forehead to hers. “I pushed you. I went overboard, and I shouldn’t have put pressure on you. You didn’t deserve that. You are more than enough. You’re everything that’s good in the world.”
“You made an innocent suggestion, and I dumped my issues on you.”
“I did it first.”
She shakes her head and releases a soft laugh. “Are we seriously fighting over who sucks more?”
My lips break into a full grin. “I think so, but you’re not going to win this.”
A tear slips down her cheek, and she releases a watery exhale.
I trail the tear with my thumb, soaking up her sadness. “I’ve never felt good enough for you. For anyone around me, to be honest. I feel like I’m failing everyone, especially Teagan.”
A darker shade of melancholy casts over her expression. “Nate…”
“My parents have always been the encouraging types.”
“I’m aware,” she says, but there’s an air of trepidation in her tone.
“It’s going to sound so backwards, but I think that’s why I try as hard as I do.
” I frown, scratching the back of my head as discomfort snakes its way up my spine.
“It’s hard not to live up to some impossible standard when you’re so pumped up with reassurance and confidence all your life.
Like I said, I know it’s backwards—I’m complaining that my parents have always believed in me. ”
“No.” Maren shifts closer to me until her thigh is glued to mine, eliminating the last of the distance between us. Her eyes soften. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”
“That’s because you’re a sane, normal person, who accepts their kind words, and you’re happy doing your best. Not me.
I took their encouragement as a challenge to prove them right.
To prove that I could be someone, and I made myself think that if I didn’t succeed in everything I tried, I wouldn’t be good enough as a person.
” I hang my head. It’s difficult to look at her.
“In the end, I became too much. I projected all my insecurities onto everyone around me. Even Teagan.”
I stand up and slink away, my legs restless with the embarrassment of admitting my shortcomings to such an important person.
“Do you hate me?” I whisper. My voice sounds as small as I feel. It’s barely audible even to my own ears, but it’s fully loaded.
“God, no.” Maren rises and places both hands on my shoulders to turn me around. “You believe in people. It’s what makes you so great. You’re positive and uplifting. You make people want to be better versions of themselves.”
“Doesn’t feel like a good thing lately.”
“It is, and I’m sorry I made you doubt yourself.”
“You had every right.” I sigh. “I’m sorry I’ve been so pushy with you.”
She shakes her head. “I should’ve been more open. If you and I are going to do this, we need to be open with each other all the time. We can’t let things like this fester. If I would’ve told you the truth back then—if I would’ve realized the scope of it—maybe…”
I unclench my jaw, and I smooth her windblown hair away from her face.
Her lips tip into a small smile. “There have been a lot of what-ifs between us.” She chews on her bottom lip, then releases it. “I’ve thought about it a lot, and no matter how painful, everything happened exactly as it was supposed to.”
“I think you’re right.” I dig my fingertips into her hair, my muscles wound tight and on the cusp of snapping. “I’ve missed you the last few days, Lightning. So damn much.”
A whimper of agreement floats from her parted lips.
“Can I kiss you already?” I cup the side of her face in my large palm. “Because it’s been too long since I last did.”
“It has.”
“Is that a yes?” My grin is easy, smoothly stretching from one cheek to the other.
Instead of answering me, Maren fists my shirt and drags me toward her, sealing her lips over mine.
I’m not sure how long we kiss. It’s certainly not enough—it will never be enough with Maren.
But she tears herself away as if in slow motion, like it’s hard for her when we’re not kissing. I feel the same.
Lifting her head, her eyelids flutter open. “Are you worried?”
“About what, Lightning?”
“About us.” She splays her fingers over me, dragging them across the valley of my chest. “I’ve lost count of how many times you and I have tried to do this. Are you worried we’re going to run out of chances?”
My smile returns. “I’ll take as many chances as you give me. Whatever it takes—however long we need—I’ll fucking do it. I’m in this, and I’m never giving up on us.”
Fresh tears well in her eyes again.
I lick my lips, savoring the taste of her there as I enjoy her familiar lavender perfume. Everything about her and this house are familiar. Like the essence of it all is embedded in my DNA.
This house is just as responsible for who I am as my own.
Maren and I met as two shy kids in the street in front of this house when a baby turtle’s life was at stake.
My father taught us how to ride a bike along the cul-de-sac.
I ate dinner with Maren and her family in the other room.
She and I watched movies at my house until the danger of curfew loomed over us.
I snuck through the fence when football was kicking my ass, and she’d comfort me with a lemonade and the melody of her voice.
We were each other’s escape when anything stressed us out—classes, family, life.
I exist because of her.
I eventually find my voice. “Do you remember when you asked me why I decided to move when I did—the reason for my timing?”
She nods warily.
I clear my throat. “When you asked, I didn’t know how to put it into words.
I only knew I felt something pulling me back here.
I could’ve stayed in LA. I could’ve moved to Montana or Tennessee or anywhere.
But when Sabrina came to me with her plan to move, my immediate thought was Sapphire Creek.
With the thought of it, it’s like I could finally breathe.
” I bring Maren’s hand to my lips and kiss her palm, my lips lingering on her skin and soaking her in.
Her soft hum travels through me, serenading every nerve and soothing every knot inside me.
“Since I left, whatever I was searching for during all my travels—it was always here. The truth is, Sapphire Creek itself has never been my home. My home has always been you.”
Her lips part again, and a soft gasp escapes.
“You, Maren, are my home. Always have been.” I squeeze her hand in mine. “That’s why I’m not worried about us. You and I were always meant to be. What can I do to prove it to you, once and for all?”
She tilts her head to the side, a stream of tears trickling over the curve of her cheek. “You owe me a date. How about we start there?”
“Good idea.”
“Is that a yes?” She tosses my earlier words back to me.
I wrap her in my arms. “My answer to you, Lightning, is always yes.”