Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
T he city lights blurred past the car window, each one a reminder of the glittering world I'd just crashed out of. Hannah's attempts at consoling me faded into the background hum of the engine as my mind replayed every mortifying detail. The warmth of Nick's jacket still clung to my shoulders, carrying his scent—a reminder of how close we'd been before everything fell apart.
By the time we reached the house, the night had crystallized into a clear realization: I couldn't keep pretending to fit into his world, not without changing something fundamental about who I was. Or maybe who I thought I was.
I mumbled a goodnight to Hannah in the foyer, her concerned gaze following me as I climbed the stairs. Each step felt heavier than the last. The path to my bedroom was automatic. I sank onto the edge of my bed, the mattress creaking softly beneath me. Each breath in the quiet room seemed too loud, too ragged. The tears came slowly at first, then faster, until they blurred the familiar shadows of my sanctuary into watery shapes. Years of holding back, of watching life from the sidelines, pressed down on my chest until I could barely breathe.
Hannah's earlier words tangled with fresher memories—Nick's hands steady at my waist, his cologne mixing with the scent of rain from the garden, the way the world had narrowed to just us in that moment before everything fell apart. The ghost of his touch lingered on my skin, making it impossible to think clearly.
A soft knock broke through my spiral. Three gentle taps, hesitant. When I looked up, Nick filled the doorway, one hand still raised against the frame. The hall light haloed his silhouette, hiding his expression.
Nick hovered in the doorway, his fingers drumming softly against the frame. "You okay?"
I nodded, but another tear betrayed me, tracking down my cheek.
He crossed the room in two strides and sank down beside me. His thumb caught the tear, the gentle touch making my breath hitch. "Then why the wet eyes?"
"I'm a mess."
Nick's hand stilled on my cheek, and his eyes darkened with an old shadow. "Is this because of what..." the words seemed to stick in his throat "...happened... nine years ago?"
"Partly, I guess." My shoulders lifted in a half-hearted shrug as I stared at my hands. "About a year after you left, the nightmares got so bad I couldn't function in the daytime. Couldn't sleep at night." I avoided his gaze. "Emmett pulled me out of school, switched me to home school. He got... overprotective. Wouldn't let me leave the house." A bitter laugh escaped. "Hard to make friends when your whole world shrinks to four walls. Anthony was the only one who..."
"I'm sorry, Olivia." His voice roughened around my name, heavy with regret. "I didn't know."
"Nick, I'm sorry about tonight."
"Don't worry about it." He perched on the edge of my bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. "It was an accident."
I was so tired of these kinds of 'accidents' happening. Hannah's words from earlier echoed in my head.
"Nick?" I swallowed hard, unable to meet his eyes.
"Hmm?" His voice was soft, patient.
The question lodged in my throat like a butterfly struggling to escape. I twisted my hands in my lap once, twice, before finally looking up. "If I asked for your help, would you help me?" The words dissolved into whispers, nearly lost in the hum of the air conditioning.
Nick's fingertips found my chin, tilting my face up until I had nowhere to hide. "Of course I would." His thumb brushed away a stray tear. "Tell me what."
"Hannah told me that the cure was to find the one man I'm comfortable with and fuck him unconscious." I noticed his face go pale.
"Okay," he said carefully.
"She said he could help me get over my awkwardness."
"How am I supposed to help you with that?"
"Look, it's obvious that you're comfortable with women, and you know your way around the dating world. I thought you could help me."
"You want dating advice?" Nick's brow furrowed, creating that little crease I always wanted to smooth away with my thumb.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I forced out the words. "No, I want you to have sex with me."
The color drained from his face. He shot to his feet like the bed had burned him, putting three quick steps between us.
"Olivia..." He raked both hands through his hair. "This is insane." His pacing carved a path in the carpet. "Sex—" He stumbled over the word, spinning to face me. "Sex isn't the cause of your problems. How is that going to help?"
Heat crawled up my neck. I focused on a loose thread on my sleeve, twisting it around my finger until the tip turned purple. I opened my mouth, closed it again. Tried once more.
"I'm..." The words stuck in my throat. I couldn't look at him. "I've never..."
His pacing stopped. The silence stretched between us, brittle as thin ice.
"I'm a virgin," I finally whispered, the admission falling between us like a stone.
"No, Olivia, I can't... no." He started pacing the room. "You're a virgin, for fuck sake. There's so much more to sex than a business agreement."
"Is there?" From all the women I'd met today, I assumed a business agreement was all it was to him.
"Yes, there are a lot of factors. There's attraction and..."
I pushed off the bed, standing. "I know I'm not your type, but..."
"What?" His gaze snapped up meeting mine, brows furrowing.
"I know you like tall, thin blondes." My reflection in the window caught my eye—dark hair, curves, barely reaching his shoulder in heels. "I'm not any of that."
A strangled sound escaped him, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. "No, you're not my typical one-night stand." His reflection appeared behind mine, eyes dark and intense. "You're so much more important to me."
"Nick..." My palm pressed against the cool glass, leaving a ghostly print.
"Olivia." He closed his eyes like the sight of me hurt. "You're a virgin; you should lose that to someone special. Not me." His hands clenched at his sides. "I don't do relationships, and I have rules." The space between us crackled with tension. "And you're living with me, breaking the biggest one of them all."
The words tumbled out in a desperate rush. "I'm not asking you to marry me." My fingers twisted together. "I can follow your rules. I can't keep doing this"—I gestured at my torn dress draped on the floor—"or that. I can't keep humiliating myself like tonight." The last part came out as a whisper. "And I think you're special. You make me feel things I've never felt before."
"Oh god." He dragged a hand down his face. "You're killing me."
"Look, you don't have to decide tonight," I whispered, eyes fixed on him. "Just... think about it."
Nick paused at the doorway, one hand braced against the frame as if he needed the support. In the half-light, his expression was unreadable, but I caught the rise and fall of his chest—too quick, too shallow.
"Olivia." My name in his mouth sounded like both a prayer and a warning. He swallowed hard, his throat working. "I'll think about it."
He lingered for three heartbeats more before stepping back into the hallway. The soft click of the door closing echoed in the sudden emptiness of my room, leaving me alone with the ghost of what I'd just asked for—and all the ways it could break us both.