40. Chapter 40
Lydia
The shower has done its job. I can feel it in the way my thoughts have slowed, no longer tripping over one another, no longer stuck on the image of an unlocked door and a man who should never have found me. The fear hasn’t disappeared, but it has settled, even if only a little.
I stand on the bathmat, wrapped in one of Nick’s towels, my skin still warm, when he hands me a soft T-shirt and a pair of his sweatpants—too big and worn thin in the best way. The simple normalcy of it nearly undoes me.
“Sit,” he says gently.
I do, perching on the edge of the tub while he crouches in front of me to guide the fabric over my feet, careful not to rush me when my balance wavers. His hands are warm, familiar, focused entirely on what he’s doing, like this is the most natural thing in the world.
I swallow hard. No one has ever taken care of me like this.
I slip the shirt over my head, inhaling faint traces of soap and something unmistakably Nick.
My hands tremble as I push my arms through the sleeves. Before I can apologize for it, his hands are there, steadying me.
“You’re okay,” he says quietly, like it’s a fact. Not something he needs me to believe. Just something that’s true.
I nod, blinking hard. Gratitude swells in my chest, sharp and overwhelming. I am grateful for his presence, his attentiveness, the way he insists on taking care of me like it’s not a burden, as though it’s simply what you do when someone matters to you.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done tonight if you hadn’t come,” I say softly.
Nick doesn’t deflect it or pass it off as a joke. He just meets my eyes, calm and sure. “You don’t have to know.”
That, more than anything, makes my chest ache.
I lean into him, pressing my forehead against his shoulder, letting myself rest there. I’m still scared, but I’m also achingly grateful. His arm comes around me without hesitation. I close my eyes, holding onto the quiet certainty that I’m safe.
For now.
Nick leads me into the kitchen and pulls one of the bar stools on the island out for me.
“I had planned to make steak this evening, but I hate the idea of you having to wait that long to eat and get into bed. So, how do you feel about cereal?” He pulls down a couple of different boxes from the pantry and sets out two bowls.
I can’t help but smile at the gesture. It’s so tender and sweet.
I don’t think I can eat with my nerves still this tangled, but when my stomach growls embarrassingly loud, I let out a small laugh and take the box in front of me. “Cereal is great.”
I glance over to find him watching me carefully. I place a hand on his arm, wanting him to understand exactly how I’m feeling.
“I’m alright, Nick. I’m not going to break. I am scared about what comes next now Simon knows where I am, but I know I’m safe here. You make me feel safe.”
His face softens in relief, and he squeezes my hand gently, the corners of his mouth lifting in a reassuring smile.
“That’s all I want,” he says quietly. “For you to feel safe, and to know you’re not alone. I’m here for you, as long as you’ll let me be.”
“Be careful, Mr. Fulsom. I might just keep you.”
Realizing what I’ve said, I duck my head, trying to hide the apprehension I may have crossed a line. Nick reaches over and gently places a finger along my jaw, turning my face so I have to look up at him.
“I’d like to let you, Ms. Hayes.” His eyes are earnest and sincere, but I swear I see something else flash there. Something deeper. Something that makes my stomach tighten.
We eat our cereal in comfortable silence, neither of us wanting to dive too deep into everything that happened today. Not yet. That’s a conversation for tomorrow.
Tonight, I let myself feel safe and taken care of. I know Nick won’t let Simon anywhere near me or his home.
I’m so tired that I don’t even try to hide the large yawn that escapes me once we finish eating.
Nick takes both our bowls to the sink and turns toward me. “Do you want to climb into bed, or we could find a movie or something?” He reaches for my hand like it’s second nature.
As I look at him, I can’t help but appreciate how good he looks in gray sweatpants and a worn T-shirt. It’s effortlessly hot. Even after the dark turn our day took, a swarm of butterflies erupts low in my belly.
I’m not as subtle as I thought, because Nick chuckles and says, “My eyes are up here, Lydi, and you need sleep. Hold your dirty thoughts until tomorrow, okay?”
I push my lip out into a small pout. He winks and leads us out of the kitchen. I never actually said whether I’d rather watch a movie or go to bed, but Nick decides for us anyway, guiding me toward the oversized, plush sectional in the center of the living room.
“It’s still pretty early, so maybe we could watch a movie for a little bit?” Nick asks, falling back onto the large sofa beside me.
He pulls a blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over both our laps, then lifts his arm in an open invitation for me to curl up next to him. I do exactly that and tuck my legs underneath me, breathing in his scent.
“What do you want to watch?” he asks, pushing buttons on the remote to turn the TV on.
“Anything is fine,” I say, trying to hide another yawn, and failing miserably. Nick chuckles softly and brushes a kiss across the top of my head.
I vaguely notice the opening scene of a film he’s chosen, but I don’t see further than that. Between the warmth of the blanket, the rise and fall of his chest, and the quiet hum of the television, I drift off, warm and safe in Nick’s arms.