49. Indy #2
I stare at her and then at Nick. “How did you do that? She didn’t listen to a word I said just before. In there.” I even indicate with my hand just so we’ll both be clear on where “in there” is.
He rolls his eyes. “You have to be firm, or she’ll think she outranks you.”
“But…” I’ve got nothing.
Instead, I let out a deep exhale and slump against Nick.
“Holy fucking Christ,” I say. “I’m never having children.”
Nick huffs out a laugh. He’s so close that I feel it reverberate through his chest.
“You lost sight of her for about three seconds.”
“I know! It was fucking terrifying.”
He laughs again, and somehow my palm ends up right in the middle of his chest, where his heart is beating steadily. I suck in a breath and we both freeze.
It hits me all at once.
The warmth of him beneath my hand. The solid weight of his body so close to mine.
The faint smell of soap and clean skin and fresh clothes and something unmistakably Nick underneath it all.
I can feel the slow rise and fall of his breathing beneath my palm.
The strength of the arm still wrapped around me.
The soft fabric of his shirt against my fingertips.
Being so close to him is like muscle memory. Like every nerve ending recognizes him immediately and lights up.
It’s terrifying how familiar it feels.
How good.
Like coming home.
My stomach twists, and my pulse stutters, and then Nick’s gaze drops briefly to my mouth.
My heart goes haywire in a snap, and heat rushes through my skin.
Nova barks, and my brain finally comes back online. I’m in Nick’s boyfriend’s apartment. I’m babysitting his dog. I work for him. What the hell am I thinking?
I rush backward until I’m away from him. As far as I can get. I clear my throat.
“Sorry,” I manage. “I…”
I don’t know what I want to say. I just want to break this tense silence, so that we can pretend none of it happened.
“Callum’s not here,” I say. “He’s in Seattle.”
Nick nods, looks around, and scoops Nova up off the floor, and the sight of him with that puppy in his arms almost makes me whimper.
What the fuck?
I look away and tell my body to calm down, because what the hell are we doing here?
“When did you get a dog?” he asks. Nova tries to lick his face, and Nick smiles, and I feel like I’m going to die right here and now.
“She’s not mine. Callum promised to babysit her and forgot he’s away for the weekend. So here I am.”
He scratches under Nova’s chin, and I swear that puppy swoons.
“That was nice of you,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “I work for him, so it’s not really about being nice.”
He sends me a long, thoughtful look. “You and I both know you would have helped anyway.”
I still know you. I still see you.
I look away.
“Callum’s not here,” I say.
“So you said.” There’s a small smile playing in the corner of his lips. I mean, he obviously knows it already, so it’s not like he needs me to recite Callum’s schedule for him. It was in the calendar, for crying out loud!
“So…” I say.
“I still have to make sure the guy’s fed. Stack the fridge. Prep the meals for the next few days.”
“Right. Yeah. Sure. That makes sense. Knock yourself out. I’m going to take this escape artist for her evening walk, then. While you… do your thing.”
Exactly how I manage to sound this dumb around Nick should be studied.
He holds Nova while I put the harness on and then puts her on the floor.
We stand there, looking at each other, neither of us saying anything for a bit until Nova lets out a bark, and I jerk back to reality.
“I’m just…” I point at the door.
“And I’m just…” he says, still with that smirk, and points toward the kitchen.
He steps past me, and I clutch the strap in my hand tighter.
“Do you want to come with me?”
I’m not sure where that question even comes from. Spending even more time with him is the worst possible idea I could have, but then, I like to torture myself where I can.
He studies me for a moment without saying anything before he nods slowly.
“Okay.”
We both put our shoes on and grab our jackets before making our way outside.
“Harborwalk?” I suggest.
He nods again, and we head that way.
My mind is empty. I feel like I should say something or ask something, but I’ve got nothing. Instead it’s just a rhythmic barrage of I-can’t-believe-he’s-here-I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening.
It’s so unbelievably stupid to feel this way. To be excited that he’s walking next to me. After everything that’s happened and knowing what I know about his life now… Surely, I can’t be this stupid. Apparently I am, though.
Reckless and stupid. A lethal combination.
“How do you like Boston so far?” I ask, then I wince, because what the hell kind of question is that?
It’s small talk.
I didn’t ever expect Nick and I to be making small talk. It seems so stupidly regular and mundane, and we were never supposed to be mundane. We were supposed to be fire and passion and loud happiness. Not whatever this is.
“Surprisingly, a lot,” he says.
“Why is that a surprise?”
“Never actually considered Boston as somewhere I’d want to be.” He shrugs.
“Because?”
He pauses for a bit before he says, “Far, far away felt like the preferable option.”
I nod as we continue walking. “Was Chicago far enough?”
He glances at me, a thoughtful look on his face. “It felt like it at the time.”
“What made you change your mind?”
He laughs. “Callum. He got traded. And he can be pretty persuasive.”
I clamp my teeth on the inside of my cheek. This is on me. I asked the question I didn’t want the answer to.
“I think I needed the change. I’d worked my ass off for years. Basically lived at the restaurant. I wanted a place of my own. Obviously, I didn’t have the means for that, so I was starting to get restless and frustrated. Then Bridget introduced me to Callum. Long story short, here I am.”
It’s like trying to swallow shards of glass when I try to speak.
“He’s… he’s great,” I manage. “Callum. Great.”
He snorts out a laugh. “He’s easy. Never gets pissed off. Never stays upset about anything. He can have an argument during breakfast and forget about it by the time he puts the dishes in the dishwasher.”
“Sounds nice.” The words are like acid on my tongue.
The contrast doesn’t have to be verbalized.
Peace and calm versus chaos and mess. We’re a storm. Loud and volatile and merciless.
Nobody wants to get caught in a storm. If you say you do you’re lying to yourself. You want to watch it from a safe distance, stand at a window and admire the thunder and lightning and destruction while pretending you’d be fine getting caught in it.
That’s you lying to yourself once again.
Getting stuck in one would be different.
Getting stuck in one would be a quick lesson on how beautiful things can become dangerous in a snap.
Even now, after years apart and all the broken pieces between us, one look from him is enough to throw me off balance.
One touch and I’m transported back in time, wanting to walk directly back into the storm, even though I know so well by now that it’ll end with me standing in the wreckage of us, wondering why I ever thought I could survive him.
“Who’s Dylan?” he asks.
I jerk my head toward him and frown. It’s so out of the blue that I’m having a hard time understanding what he asked. Dylan? Who? What? Why?
“What?” I ask distractedly. The leash tightens around my palm when Nova tries to chase a bird.
“Dylan,” he repeats. “He messages you a lot.”
I don’t think he does that much. We talk, sure, but he’s been so busy with Adrian and the Rockport cabin, that I’ve barely seen him in weeks.
“He’s a friend,” I say.
He glances at me. “Just a friend?”
I narrow my eyes. “Why?”
“Just catching up. It’s been a while since we actually talked without ending up pissed off at each other.”
I stop and turn to face him. “And that’s your topic of choice? Dylan?”
“Not him specifically. Your life in general. It’s been six years, Blue.”
“I know.” Irritation is already brewing somewhere deep inside me at the way he says that. Like he thinks he needs to remind me. Like I haven’t felt all those years second by painful second while he manages to sound so nonchalant about it.
“You were in San Francisco.”
“Yup.” I don’t ask him how he knows. Probably the same way I’ve gathered bits and pieces about his life over the years. Bridget or Dia. Only the most superficial information, though. No specifics, no thanks.
“Why San Francisco?”
I shrug and avoid looking at him. I want to lie, but the truth comes out anyway. “I wanted to get away, and San Francisco seemed like it was far enough at the time.”
“Was it?” he asks.
“Turns out nowhere is far enough.”
We stand in the middle of the street, eyes locked, the past and all the unsaid words whirling around us, but for now we’re in the eye of the storm, so we ignore it all.
I let myself get caught in his dark gaze, and in the same breath I let myself pretend for a moment that I have the right to get lost in those eyes.
For a moment, I pretend this is my life. A stupid, dumb, impossibly idiotic moment where I let myself imagine that this is how our life turned out. That it’s him and me together. This is the evening walk we take with our dog on our street before we go back to our home.
I imagine this is an ordinary day of our life together. That there’s nothing special about this evening because this is what we do every day. That the back of his hand brushing mine isn’t something impossible but just a moment before he links our fingers. A reflex, like breathing is a reflex.
I imagine a set of keys in his pocket that unlock our front door. That I left the kitchen light on in our kitchen for us to come back to.
I imagine settling in on our couch and eating leftovers. Him playing with our dog, his laughter drifting down our hallway.
I imagine standing side by side in our bathroom brushing our teeth.
I imagine making love to him in our bed.
I imagine belonging with him so completely that either of us leaving would sound ridiculous. It would never cross either of our minds.