Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
NICK
R achel : Can we talk about the other day?
I stare at Rachel’s text, my heart beating wildly in my chest. What are the chances she texts me the same day Jae grills me at the grocery store? Well, from what I know of Jae… pretty high. She’s like a bulldog with a chewbone.
But the thing is, I don’t want Rachel coerced into talking to me. I want her to on her own. She clearly thought that kiss was a mistake.
Even if it was insanely hot.
I can’t tell her no, though. Can’t bury my head in the sand wishing things will go back to the way they were. I don’t want them to. I want her to notice me as someone interested in her. Cat’s out of the bag after that kiss.
But where does that leaves us exactly?
Me : Sure. Now? Or in person?
Rachel : How about tonight at my place? I could make us dinner. If you don’t have plans.
My thumbs twitch over the phone screen’s keyboard. She goes from saying she can’t be with anyone to inviting me over for dinner? Is this a date? Or just as friends? It has to be the latter, but I’m afraid to clarify.
Me : I think we’ve already established I have no social life. I’d love to come over.
I hope it comes off as self-deprecating, but I can’t trust my instincts when it comes to her anymore.
She responds with a time and I set my phone down, cautiously optimistic, but I also have the sense I’m walking into a trap. It seems too good to be true.
When did I get so suspicious?
At six, I knock on Rachel’s front door, studiously avoiding the doorbell. There’s no way I’m participating in any pranks again.
When she answers the door, she smiles, but there’s something hesitant about it. I don’t know what to do to put her at ease, though. I’m apprehensive about doing anything for fear it’s the wrong thing.
I’m back to square one, sure she hates me after what I did to her family’s bakery. Nervous and excited to see her a month ago as the bakery’s oven malfunctioned, even as my stomach roiled, half-afraid she’d tell me to get the hell out. Offering her help and her kindly rejecting it.
Rejecting me.
She ushers me in, and when the door is safely closed behind us, she says, “I hope you like lasagna. You know, since you said you like Italian food.”
“Yeah, sounds great.” I do everything I can to stuff those thoughts away, and register the warm, inviting aroma of garlic, onions, and herbs coming from the kitchen.
I grab onto the first distraction I can, focusing on the living room.
“You got a new couch.” It’s been, what? Two days since I was last here?
In addition to the new couch, she’s rearranged the whole area.
She takes a deep breath. “I did.”
“It’s nice.”
Nodding, she says, “I had some memories tied to the old one I wanted to get rid of.”
Is she referring to our kiss? That’s… a blow to the ego.
She must see something on my face because she quickly continues, “Not me and you.” Her cheeks pinken. “If that’s what you were thinking.”
I don’t know what to say, even if some measure of relief is restored.
“Can I get you a drink?” she asks, bustling over to the kitchen. “I’ve got wine and beer.”
Even as I follow her and ask for a beer, my mind is turning over what she said. A bad memory on that couch. Is that why she stopped us?
“Do you want to talk about it? The bad memories?”
She fiddles with the beer she’s holding before handing it to me.
“When Kyle told me…” She trails off, as if searching for the right words.
“What he had done, he was sitting on that couch. And then when you and I…” She pauses again and clears her throat, looking anywhere but at me.
“I realized we were in the same spot and I freaked out.”
Ah, shit. “I didn’t know—”
“No, I should be the one apologizing. You didn’t deserve that.”
She’s still not looking at me, but I try not to take it personally. “Do you still have feelings for him?”
If it were me, I’d never be able to get over someone cheating on me, but love can be a complicated emotion. And she did want to play those pranks on him…
“No,” she says vehemently, and the doubt lodged in my chest the past couple of days dissipates. “Not at all. I don’t miss him. But I… I can’t get out of my head that I missed all the signs that he…”
She doesn’t finish the thought, but she doesn’t need to. We both know what he did.
“He betrayed your trust,” I say, trying to phrase it in a more diplomatic way than he got another girl pregnant behind your back .
Her shoulders drop with relief, and she finally looks at me, understanding in her gaze. “That’s it exactly. He broke my trust.”
From what I know of Rachel, she doesn’t give trust out lightly. She’s always been one to keep to herself. And it makes me all the more aware there’s still one thing between us I need to make right if we’re ever going to move forward.
My nerves are a tangled mess as I look back at her.
I’ve rehearsed this moment a thousand times in my head, but now that it’s here, the words seem inadequate.
“I should’ve said this a long time ago. Or at the very least when we started hanging out recently.
” My gaze drops to the counter between us, and I force myself to meet her eye.
“I’m sorry. For the fire. For what happened to your family’s bakery. ”
Her brows lift slightly, as if she hadn’t expected this. “It was an accident.”
I shake my head. “That doesn’t change the fact that I was the reason for it. That your family lost something important to you and had to work so hard to get it back.”
“Nick.” She reaches out, sliding her hand over mine, and I grip it like it’s a lifeline.
“It’s not like we were out there ourselves building it back brick by brick.
Yes, it was awful it happened. And I admit the fire was scary.
But my parents got a nice check from the insurance company and we got to stay at my grandma’s house while everything was rebuilt. ”
I stare at her. She’s acting like it wasn’t a big deal. I had expected anger. Frustration. Resentment. Not whatever this is.
“I burned down your bakery.”
The words come with a familiar stabbing sensation in my chest, guilt flooding me. I shouldn’t be reminding her, but apparently she’s forgotten the terrible thing I did. The reason I’ve stayed away from her all these years.
Her soft expression is more than I can bear. “I don’t blame you. I never have.”
“What?” How could she not?
Her hand squeezes mine. “You had just lost your mom, right?”
And there’s a second stabbing sensation in my chest, this time for an entirely different reason. “That’s not an excuse.”
I’m still not sure why I was out in that alley to begin with that day. What compelled me to set off a firecracker there, of all places. Maybe I wanted to run into Rachel? To catch a glimpse of her? Who knows what was going through my grief-addled teenage mind.
She studies me, and while I normally would like her eyes on me, this time I’m too exposed. What does she see?
“Are you determined to carry this guilt around for the rest of your life?”
The knot in my chest loosens at the forgiveness she’s giving so freely. “Rachel…” I hate how thick my voice sounds.
“Do you remember what I said to Kyle at the pancake breakfast?”
How could I forget her standing up for me to him? “That I’d learned from my mistake?”
She nods. “I meant it. And thank you for saying you’re sorry. It means a lot to me, that you would even want to apologize to begin with.”
“Of course I would.”
“Not everyone feels accountable for their actions.”
A timer dings and she lets go of my hand to retrieve the lasagna from the oven.
I mourn the temporary loss, even as the rich scent of melted cheese mixed with the tangy sweetness of tomatoes fills the air.
The golden-brown cheese bubbles, slightly crispy at the edges of the pan, and Rachel sets it on a trivet, sprinkling fresh herbs on top for a pop of contrast.
I focus on her hand, wishing it were still in mine, but even with it gone, I’m left with the steadiness she gave me, the weight of guilt I’ve been carrying for years slowly easing from my chest.
“This needs about fifteen minutes to cool,” she says, turning back to me from the other side of the kitchen counter.
That’s perfect. I don’t want to lose the momentum we’ve gained.
“I didn’t mean to make that conservation all about me,” I tell her. “But when you mentioned trust, I felt like I had to get that off my chest.”
She nods, but stays quiet.
I clear my throat, knowing I’ve never been great with words, but for Rachel, I have to try. “I’d like to earn your trust.”
She looks back at me, still silent, her eyes wide. There’s some kind of emotion swimming in them, but I can’t tell what. Fear? Hope?
“Others have let you down,” I say quietly. “And I don’t want to be another name on that list. I want you to know you can depend on me. That I take your trust seriously. If I earn it. I want to be someone you can put your faith in.”
Her lips part, as if I caught her off guard. “Okay,” she says in a shaky voice.
“I know it isn’t something you hand over easily. It’s easy to tell you I’d never hurt you, but they’re only words. Actions speak louder. To me, at least.”
She nods in agreement.
“But what I will say,” I continue, “is what I said on your porch is true. I’ve had a thing for you for a long time. And if you took a chance on me, I’d never waste it.”
She swallows hard, looking more and more like she might cry. I don’t think that’s a good sign, but I press on anyway. I have to get this out while I can.
“I don’t need an answer or response about any of it right now. I just wanted you to know. And I’m here if you ever want anything more.”
She nods again, pressing her lips together tightly, and rounds the counter to hug me.