Chapter 18 #2
She lets out a long, defeated breath, then returns to the couch, this time sitting closer than before.
Our legs touch and our arms brush, close enough that I can feel the goose bumps scatter up her arm. And when she doesn’t pull away or tense, I put my arm around her and pull her into my side.
Emotions are high, and I know that if this were any other day, she’d be pulling away. But if this is all I can get, I’m taking it without complaint.
She shocks me when she leans into me and rests her head on my shoulder. “It’s the perfect escape,” she whispers. “You told me that the day I met you, that sailing was your perfect escape.”
I glance down and see her lip wobble, but she pulls it in quickly. I know she’s trying to be strong for me, but it’s the last thing I want.
I’ve always been her protector, and I don’t want it to stop now.
“Being out on the water quieted my mind when I was young. The open water gave me a sense of freedom, where no one could get to me or lock me down.”
“I’m trying so hard not to sob my eyes out right now, but every time you say something, my restraint weakens.”
“Don’t cry for me, Mads.”
“My tears aren’t only for you, Nate,” she exhales shakily. “I’m so glad you had Rosa, but I can’t help but think of all the other children in the world who have no one to help them.”
Her empathy, as always, cuts straight through me. I hold her closer. It’s a thought that’s haunted me more than I care to admit—especially now, as an adult, knowing how rare that kind of saving grace is.
“Do you have any other questions?”
I can practically hear her thoughts racing, but she shakes her head. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Good,” I say quietly. “Because now that I’ve told you everything, I need something from you.”
Reluctantly, I ease away just enough so she can see my face. Really see me.
“Anything.”
“This is the last time we ever speak about it. No more questions, no bringing it up. My past is just that, the past, and not something I want to relive.”
Her eyes find mine; they’re heavy with sadness, but she nods hesitantly. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.” And I can’t help but lift my lip into a slight smirk. “I know it’s killing you to agree to this. You’re going to stew all night and have a million questions.”
“I think I should have a forty-eight-hour window of question-asking, and then we can leave it in the past.”
“I’ll agree to that if you can leave everything else in the past, too.” I raise a brow.
She blinks, surprised. “I’m sorry, Nate. I just—”
“I understand.” I cut her off, standing, not wanting her to say words she can’t take back.
She might be engaged, but that won’t stop me from making this right, making her mine again.
I also know Maddie. If she cared enough for that fucking loser, she’d be wearing her ring; it would never leave her finger.
“Where are you going?” The panic in her voice sends a sick thrill through me.
She still cares.
I’ve felt it all night, with the small touches and familiarity that came so easily between us, but now, when her big green eyes look up into mine, I see the panic set in, and I’m loving it because she doesn’t even realize it.
It comes so naturally to her—we come so naturally—that it hasn’t even crossed her mind that me being here, at three in the morning, after being separated for ten years, is not the norm.
“It’s late, and I think it’s probably time I leave.” She stands after me, and we walk toward the front door.
I need to create some distance between us before I throw her over my shoulder and drag her to her bedroom. Undoing every bit of restraint I’ve managed to hold tonight.
“I didn’t even realize how late it was,” she says, fingers tugging at the hem of her shirt. “Tomorrow’s going to be brutal.”
“Leo knew I was coming. He said he’d shoot your team an email saying you two have a breakfast meeting. Buying you some time.”
She smiles faintly. “Thanks.”
“Can I give you a hug goodbye?”
Her eyes soften, and she nods, stepping into me.
She wraps her arms around my neck, and I pull her in tighter than I should.
Her body fits perfectly against mine, exactly how it’s meant to be.
I bury my face in her neck and breathe her in, holding on just a few seconds too long.
But she doesn’t pull away. Neither of us does.
Too afraid of what awaits us once the elevator opens and I leave.
But goddamn, does she feel good.
This right here, her in my arms, is what dreams are made of.
Time ticks by, the moment stretches, one I never want to end, and when I grudgingly shift, taking just a small step back, her hands shoot up to steady herself, and that’s when she feels it.
Her head jerks up, eyes locking on mine.
She lifts her fingers to the necklace under my shirt, tracing the familiar shape beneath the fabric.
The glass bead with the ornate anchor. The one she made me when I was seventeen.
I’ve worn it every day since.
Her chest rises sharply. If I leaned forward, even an inch, our lips would touch, and I know it with every fiber of my being, she wouldn’t resist.
She wants this as much as I do.
But instead, I brush the shell of her ear. “Not when you’re engaged to another man.”
I press a kiss to her cheek and step back. Not waiting to see what I know will be shock washed over her face.
When the elevator dings, I stop short, still turned away. “Don’t marry him, Mads.”
“Nate.” Her voice breaks.
I step in the elevator and turn just before the door closes, holding her gaze. “Please don’t marry him.”
Maddie
I didn’t sleep a wink. I tossed and turned, suffocated by the weight of it all, wanting to scream out to the world in agony.
The tears have been constant, burning trails down my cheeks, right there with the waves of nausea brought on by replaying Nate’s vivid childhood memories.
There were bouts of anger so raw that I had to clench my fists and physically restrain myself from leaving and burning his parents’ house down.
Anger had never fueled me in that way, and I’ve felt out of control ever since.
Eventually, by five in the morning, only a few short hours after Nate left, I gave up on sleep entirely, and I now find myself standing outside in the pouring rain, soaked to the bone, knocking on a door that I haven’t been to in many years.
The outside light flickers on, and I hear my name behind the door.
The door is wrenched open, and I don’t wait a second until I fling my sodden body into Rosa’s waiting arms. She holds me tight as the floodgates crash open, bawling my eyes out, trying to catch my breath as I begin to hyperventilate.
Her soothing strokes along my spine begin to give me life again. “Thank you,” I mumble. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
Eventually, when I calm down, she grips my shoulders and gets a good look at my face. When our eyes connect, I whisper, “Thank you.” My voice is barely audible.
“He told you?” She cups my cheek, swiping my wet bangs with her thumb.
I nod, my lips quiver as I fight off another wave of emotions.
“Come on, let’s get you some hot tea and warm clothes.” She turns toward Javier, silently giving him an order, and he walks off, pausing only to kiss me on the forehead as he goes.
“Rosa…” My voice wavered, unsure of what to say other than thank you again.
No words will ever express my gratitude.
“I’m glad he told you, but it’s a time I don’t want to relive.
We’re not going to discuss it now, or ever.
I know Nate feels the same.” Her voice dipped with quiet finality.
“I can tell by your expression you’re bursting with questions.
But Maddie, it’s history, something we buried a long time ago, and I have no plans on digging it up.
Him telling you, that was for you, and now that you know, you need to let it go for him. ”
“I understand,” I lie. “It’s exactly what Nate said.”
I hate that they’ve had years,—no, decades—to process this, and now I’m left holding onto it all alone, with no one to vent to.
She leads me upstairs toward Leo and Nate’s room, and within seconds, she hands me a pile of clothes. “I washed them years ago, so excuse the musty smell.” She winks, and I balk at my own clothes piled high in my arms.
Well, the USC sweatshirt is Nate’s; he gifted it to me, or I stole it from him during his senior year, but the rest are mine.
“Change. I’ll meet you in the hall. Javi is probably done with our tea by now.”
I change quickly, resisting the urge to snoop around the room.
At a glance, it looks identical to when we were younger, with the addition of pictures of Claudina scattered around the room.
Which isn’t surprising; she’s one fiercely loved little girl.
I step through the threshold, then pause, coming face to face with Camila’s bedroom door.
“You okay?” Rosa’s voice is soft.
“No. Nothing about today is okay, Rosa,” I snap, but quickly shake my head, chastising myself. “I’m sorry.”
For an itty-bitty thing, she has a firm grip when she pulls me into her side. “Do not apologize to me. Let’s go, we’ll tackle that door another day.”
We walk in silence downstairs to Rosa’s favorite room, where the family typically gathers on Sundays.
Despite the massive six-floor townhouse and their net worth, the Moraleses’ house still feels warm and inviting, just as I’ve always remembered it.
Javier’s worn leather chair, which he’s had since I was a teenager, sits in the corner. Claudina’s toys spill across one side, and you can barely see the custom wallpaper on the adjacent wall because it’s covered in a collage of beautiful pictures of all the people she loves.
Including me.
I’ve missed it here.
“Maddie Grace.” Rosa doesn’t pour our tea. She turns to face me as we sit, brows drawn. “What’s bothering you?”
“Nate…” I pause to get my thoughts together.
“Not Nate. What was that look I saw upstairs?”
I hesitate, shocked she can read me so well. “There was no look.”
“You forget I raised five kids. Now tell me what that was all about.”