17. Nash #2
The question hangs between us like a challenge. Because the truth is, I don't know anymore. I can't untangle my desire to protect Eve from my desire to have her. Can't separate my genuine care for her wellbeing from my selfish need to rewrite our story with a better ending.
"Both, probably," I admit. "Does that make me a terrible person?"
"It makes you human." Mom sighs, and I can picture her in her scrubs, probably sitting in the hospital break room with a cup of coffee that's gone cold hours ago. "But Nash, you need to be careful here. She's vulnerable right now, and if you're not honest with her about who you really are..."
"I know." I lean my head against the wall. "I'm not lying to her. I'm just... not telling her everything yet."
"That's a pretty fine line you're walking."
"I know," I say again, because what else is there to say?
I am walking a fine line. I'm walking several fine lines, actually—between helping and manipulating, between protecting and possessing, between giving Eve space to heal and giving myself space to fall in love with her all over again.
"But I don't want to overwhelm her. I'm trying to do it right, Ma. "
"What do you need from me?" Mom asks finally, and I love her for not lecturing me further, for trusting that I'm trying to do the right thing even when the right thing isn't entirely clear.
"Can you find out who her fiancé is? Contact information, maybe? I should probably reach out to him, let him know what's happened. But I'd like to see what that situation looks like before calling her parents if they haven't been that close"
Should. Once I figure out who he is and why he hasn't come looking.
"I can try. Sandra Mitchell knows everything that happens in that town, and she's got a soft spot for gossip. I'll see what I can find out."
"Thanks, Ma." I work my jaw. "You think we can keep this between us for now? Not that I don't trust you, but because Eve's business isn't anyone else's business. Especially not until she can decide for herself what she wants people to know."
"Of course." My mom's voice is soft, and I appreciate how understanding she is. Always has been. The last thing I need is half of Wintervale showing up on my doorstep, full of questions and concerned looks and well-meaning advice.
"I'll call you tomorrow with whatever I find out."
"Thanks, Mom. And... thank you for not thinking I'm completely insane."
Her laugh is soft, tired. "Honey, I've been watching you carry a torch for that girl since you were eight years old. Insane isn't the word I'd use."
I don't even argue with that.
After we hang up, I stand on that landing for a long time despite the cold, staring at nothing.
The night feels too quiet, too empty. Just inside the apartment, Eve is probably asleep, curled up in the spare bed wearing the pajamas Morgan brought over.
The thought of her there, safe and warm and trusting me to take care of her, does something complicated to my chest.
Morgan's words echo in my head: This is your chance.
I'd initially said no. That she was too good for me and her memories would come back. That she would eventually hate me once she came to her senses.
But maybe it is. Maybe this is the universe giving me an opportunity to prove that I'm not the same person who hurt Eve Turner over and over again. Maybe I can be the person who protects her instead of the person she needs protection from.
Or maybe I'm just telling myself that to justify keeping her close when I should be moving heaven and earth to get her home to the people who love her. I just can't let her go again, not when I spent so many years filled to the brim with regret.
The truth is probably somewhere in the middle, tangled up with desire and regret and the kind of desperate hope that makes people do terrible things in the name of love.
But for now, she's here. For now, she looks at me without flinching. For now, I get to be the person who makes her coffee in the morning and makes sure she takes her medication and listens when she tries to piece together fragments of a life she can't quite remember.
For now, that has to be enough.
Even if I already know it never will be.
I pocket my phone and head to the door, the conversation with Mom still weighing on my mind.
My key slips in the lock, and I feel…excitement at coming home.
It feels different knowing Eve is here—warmer somehow, despite the December chill seeping through the old windows.
I can hear voices from the living room, Morgan's low laugh mixing with something softer that makes my chest tighten.
When I push open the door, I find them on the couch together.
Morgan's sprawled in her usual spot, legs tucked under her, while Eve sits more carefully, like she's still testing the boundaries of this space.
They both look up when I enter, and the contrast between them hits me like a physical thing—Morgan all sharp edges and knowing looks, Eve soft and uncertain, unfortunately not wearing those Christmas pajamas that made her look so damn adorable.
"How was work?" Morgan asks, stretching like a cat. There's something in her eyes, that particular glint that means she's fishing for information. She knows exactly what kind of calls I respond to, knows about the gray areas where my job intersects with things that aren't strictly legal.
I shrug, acutely aware of Eve watching me. "Long day. Traffic accidents, chest pains, the usual."
It's not technically a lie. Marcus Chen was a chest pain call, right up until the moment I let him slip away into whatever darkness was waiting for him. But Eve doesn't need to know about that part of my life. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Morgan nods, reading between the lines the way she always does. We've perfected this dance over the years—speaking in code when other people are around, protecting each other's secrets through careful omissions and strategic silences.
"Well, I should head out." Morgan unfolds herself from the couch with fluid grace, all loose limbs and contained power. "Antonio's making dinner, and if I'm late, he'll eat all the good parts and leave me with vegetables."
She moves toward the door, pausing to squeeze my shoulder as she passes. Her fingers dig in just slightly—a warning, maybe, or a reminder. Don't fuck this up, she might be saying. Or maybe, Be careful what you wish for.
"See you later, Eve," she calls over her shoulder. "Don't let this one boss you around too much."
Eve manages a small smile and a wave, but I catch the way her shoulders relax once Morgan's gone. There's something there, some instinctive wariness that Eve can't explain but can't ignore either. It makes me wonder how much her body remembers even when her mind doesn't.
The door clicks shut, leaving us alone in the sudden quiet. Eve pulls her knees up to her chest, wincing slightly at the movement. Her ribs are still healing, still tender enough that simple gestures cause her pain. The sight of it does something dark and protective to my chest.
I turn to face her fully, letting my mouth curve into what I hope looks like an easy smile. "So, were you a good girl while I was gone?"
The words are out before I fully think them through, casual and teasing in the way that feels too natural for us. It's something I would have said back in high school, always calling Eve a good girl.
But the moment they hit the air, something changes in Eve's face. Her expression goes completely slack, eyes unfocused and distant like she's looking at something I can't see.
For a heartbeat, she's perfectly still. Then her whole body seems to shiver, a tremor that starts in her hands and spreads outward until she's trembling like a leaf in a storm.
"Eve?" My voice comes out sharp, panic threading through the syllables. I'm moving before I fully process the decision, crossing the space between us in two quick strides. "Eve, what's wrong?"
I drop to my knees in front of the couch, hands hovering just above her face. She's still staring at nothing, her breathing shallow and quick. For a terrible moment, I think she's having some kind of seizure, that the head injury is worse than the doctors thought.
"Hey." I cup her face in my palms, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. Her skin is warm but clammy, and I can feel the fine tremor running through her. "Come back to me, sweetheart. Whatever you're seeing, just come back."
The panic in my chest builds with each second that passes. This is my fault somehow—I said something wrong, triggered something in her damaged brain that I don't understand. I should call an ambulance. I should get her to a hospital. I should?—
Eve blinks, slow and deliberate, and her eyes focus on mine. The trembling subsides gradually, leaving her looking drained and confused.
"Nash?" Her voice is small, uncertain. She raises one hand to her temple, pressing her fingers against the skin like she's trying to hold something inside. "Oh God, my head."
Relief floods through me so fast it leaves me dizzy. "Are you okay? What happened? Should I call a doctor?"
"No, I..." She takes a shaky breath, lowering her hand to look at me. There's something different in her expression now, a flicker of recognition that wasn't there before. "I think I just remembered something."