Chapter Sixteen
Being helpful was a lot nicer than Nick expected.
Fucking exhausting, sure. But also weirdly nice. If he ignored the times when he had to hide in the bathroom and watch cooking videos on his phone to decompress, it was genuinely a good time.
It was rewarding to go over to Lydia’s house and fix her vacuum. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something worthwhile with his evenings—barring Vi, of course. And he also got to know Lydia better. Apparently, she had loud opinions on eighties sports movies. Who knew?
Quiz night was fun as hell. He had forgotten how good he was at public speaking.
He played into the fact that he didn’t know the answers to any of the questions, which always got a laugh.
Everybody loved him. He got the crowd to do the wave at one point.
He’d even gotten Emma to look impressed, which was a feat.
She asked if he would ever come back, and Nick had only paused for a moment before telling her yes.
Even playing receptionist at Musgrove Inn turned out okay.
He got into some decent conversations with tourists who called to book, many of whom were delighted to have a local ramble at them about the attractions.
There was a terrifying minute when he thought he’d deleted an important folder on the computer, but Luna had saved the day after she got back.
And she and Oliver had been so thankful that it made the panic worth it.
Oliver had even shaken his hand and said he was welcome back to the front desk anytime.
Then he’d amended it to whenever we have no other options, which was still pretty nice for Oliver Musgrove.
It was a great week. And he kept noticing people trying to rope Vi into this stuff, and if he was there, then . . .
Well, why not say yes? He could help Joshua make bouquets for a busy sale day. He could deliver Gabriella’s poster to the printers. He could do another quiz night, and he didn’t even feel too stressed about it!
It was a lot. But the way Vi looked at him every time he stepped in . . . Shit. Nick would do a lot more for less.
He was getting so used to saying yes that when Duncan asked him to come to his next barbecue, he didn’t even hesitate. Didn’t even remember how much he hated flitting around from group to group until the feeling of being unwanted got so heavy, he had to leave.
So he just said: “Sure.”
Then he went back to filling out an order form.
The garage went silent. Nick looked up from the form to find Duncan and Wyatt staring at him. Wyatt’s mouth was hanging open; Duncan had his eyes narrowed in a way that immediately set Nick’s teeth on edge.
“Or I could fuck off,” Nick said. “If you guys are gonna make such a big deal out of it.”
Wyatt bounced up, screwdriver clattering out of his hand. “N-no, you sh-should c-come! You h-haven’t been in ages. Since D-Duncan’s dog was a p-puppy!”
“I do love that Doberman,” Nick said thoughtfully.
He scratched his scalp, trying to get that carefree confidence from before to return.
It was fading the more he remembered last time, watching everyone laugh while he stood there like a loser, after he’d worn out everyone’s goodwill.
Even Duncan and Wyatt had gotten tired of him after a while.
“We’d love to have you there,” Duncan said.
His expression was so earnest that it made Nick want to weasel out of it more, in case Duncan tried to pull some emotions shit at the barbecue, patting him on the back and using that Dad Voice that Nick both craved and hated.
Sure, it made Nick feel gooey and warm inside.
But it also made him feel like he needed to find the nearest hole and hide in it.
For a second, Nick thought he would have to do that now, with Duncan looking at him like that.
Then Duncan blinked, and the earnest expression was covered by a hasty nonchalance.
“I have a teenage nephew who’s in his rebellious phase,” Duncan said. “You can give him fashion tips.”
“Oh yeah?” Nick said, nodding down at his ripped jeans and stained tank top.
“You could,” Duncan said. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you strutting around town in those button-downs. You’re a right fashionista nowadays, Nick.”
Nick snorted, miming throwing his paperwork at him. Duncan mimed ducking, and they settled back into the workday with Nick’s motivations blissfully unexamined.
* * *
It was so much easier being alone. Going to work, laughing with his coworkers, going home to an empty house and watching TV until his brain turned to mush .
. . Was it boring? Sure. Did it make his life get smaller and smaller until the idea of existing like this sent him into an existential panic? Absolutely.
But it was easier. Easier to go home early, to pretend not to see a friendly face in the grocery store, to decline the invitation in the first place. To squeeze himself into the small, quiet life he’d created and close the door on anything that tried to pull him out.
But now his life was getting bigger. Doors and windows spilling open, and he had no idea what to do with it. Sometimes, he wanted to cancel book club, cancel Rosie’s grocery trips, cancel his trips to Chester’s house and the Cozy Grotto Café quiz night, and crawl back into a comfy, quiet hole.
It would happen eventually, he told himself as he roamed the grocery aisles on the night of Duncan’s barbecue.
He was having a good few months while Chester’s leg healed up.
But Chester would come back to book club, and Vi would get tired of him and reject him for good, and Nick would retreat back into his old life.
Boring. Predictable. Nothing to pull him from his home except his coworkers and the occasional trip to Sour Claw, not talking about his feelings or his worries or his secret baking, his world slowly getting smaller and smaller.
Nick dreaded it. Nick craved it.
He stared at the deli, all the cold salads waiting for him.
He didn’t remember what he’d brought to the last barbecue.
Probably nothing. He’d never been a good party guest. He hadn’t been a good anything in his twenties.
He was shocked Duncan hadn’t fired him with the amount of times he’d shown up late or got caught going through his phone when he should have been working.
He was so busy stressing over the deli food, he didn’t notice someone sidling up beside him until a voice said, “Hi, buddy.”
Nick jumped. His elbow slammed into a shopping basket, jarring a wrapped loaf of bread to the floor.
“Shit,” he said as he looked up into Vi’s shocked face. “Sorry.”
She was already shaking her head. “It’s fine.”
She bent to pick it up. Nick bent with her, still apologizing. He apologized to her a lot, he realized. Usually, he got through a few jokes before he backed himself into a corner enough to say it.
He reached for the bread. Their fingers bumped.
Nick pulled back, hand tingling like he hadn’t had his fingers inside her two days ago, as she’d moaned into his neck.
“Sorry,” he said again, straightening up. “My ninja reflexes kicked in. You get it.”
“Of course,” she said gravely, dropping her bread loaf back into the basket.
She smiled, and Nick remembered the Vi who stuck to distant politeness while murdering him with her eyes.
He still didn’t know how everybody else couldn’t tell.
He could always tell when she was talking to someone she didn’t like.
Just like he could tell that this smile was genuine, even though all his screaming insecurities insisted otherwise.
Vi gestured at the aisles. “Is Rosie around?”
“Nope,” Nick said. “Just me. Hey, what do you take to a barbecue?”
Vi considered. “Did they tell you what they need?”
“Nope.” He rocked back and forth on his heels, wishing he’d put on deodorant after he went home to change into a clean set of clothes.
He could feel his shirt sticking to his back.
He’d put on one of his new button-downs, then panicked, thinking everyone would be able to tell he was nervous, and changed into a clean tank top instead.
“Hamburgers, hot dogs, shrimp.” She nodded toward the deli and all the cold salads behind the glass. “Salad is always a good choice.”
“Boring choice,” Nick muttered. He eyed the potato salad hopefully.
Everyone who went to Duncan’s barbecues had been going for years.
Everyone would have their thing: Debbie brought seaweed patties for the merfolk, Nishi brought vegan hot dogs, Duncan provided bread buns and beast meat, and so on.
Nick had to bring something they wouldn’t already have, or it would just sit there, useless and unwanted, just like him.
“Thinking of ditching it,” he blurted. “What are you doing tonight?”
She gave him a look. Not the good look of surprise like he’d been hoping for.
“Whose barbecue?”
“Duncan. My boss,” he added, in case she didn’t remember.
Vi gave him a scandalized look. “Nick. You can’t ditch your boss’s barbecue.”
“He’ll be expecting it,” Nick tried. “I never show up to these things. He has them a couple times a month. I haven’t been in years.”
“Oh. That’s different. Did you say you would?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you usually say you will?”
“. . . No.”
Vi raised a hand like she was going to slap his arm.
Then she glanced around and dropped it back to her basket, like the exhausted incubus who worked at the local tattoo parlor was going to sense they were sleeping together even though he was facing away from them and reading the ingredients on a bag of poppy seed bagels.
“Duncan’s really nice,” Vi said, voice hushed so they wouldn’t be overheard. “You have to show up. You can’t just ditch just because you ran into me and thought, Hmmm, you know what would be more fun than a barbecue?”
“It would be, though.” Nick grinned, pouring every ounce of charm he had into it.
Vi flushed. Nick felt like taking a victory lap around the store.
“I suppose you have been busy lately,” Vi said quietly. “Makes sense that you’d need to de-stress.”
“Ah,” said Nick. “All part of a day’s work!”
Vi pulled distractingly at her hair ribbon. She dropped her voice even lower, stepping so close, Nick had to stop himself from pulling her in.
“Seriously,” she whispered. “You don’t have to do all of this. I hope you don’t feel like I’m . . . I don’t know. Pressuring you? I can handle it, I promise.”
“I know you can handle it,” Nick replied. “But you shouldn’t have to. You deserve to live a little.”
Vi flushed again. Nick scratched his mouth to hide a goofy smile, even as he panicked. He couldn’t get too earnest; she would see through him. And he couldn’t let that happen until he knew she would be on board despite the whole fated mates thing.
“And like I said, I want to get out in the community,” he continued. “You’re basically helping me! Like . . . an app that connects me with people who need help tying bouquets or hosting quiz nights.”
Vi didn’t seem to know whether to look flattered or insulted by that. Nick decided to drag the conversation back to safer topics before he made it crash and burn.
“If it helps,” Nick added, “it’s not just you. I really don’t want to go to this thing. You’d be having a good time and helping me out of a painful situation. You love helping people, Vi!”
“Painful,” Vi repeated. She readjusted her basket against her hip, and Nick’s eyes dropped automatically to the flow of her skirt. “What’s painful about it?” Vi continued. “Duncan’s nice!”
Nick wasn’t about to air his crap in the deli aisle of the Shop N’ Save. He blew out a breath, trying to think of a way to get her back on board.
“He is nice,” he admitted. “He’s a great guy. Everyone there is fine. I’m just . . . I’m not feeling it.”
It was true enough. He still felt like finding a hole to hide in when Vi looked at him like she could glimpse him past the jokey mask he put up.
“Anyway,” Nick said, ready to launch into a lengthy, entertaining tirade on why she should go home with him.
Vi cut him off before he could come up with anything. “I could go with you.”
Nick stammered to a stop. It was the kind of thing he should jump on, the kind of thing he should tease her about. Awww, you want to hang out so bad, you’d go to this awful barbecue? You could just ask! But he couldn’t make his mouth move.
“As friends,” Vi said, her words rushed. “We’ve . . . um. Been neglecting the friend part of our arrangement a little bit.”
Nick’s heart fluttered stupidly. He’d been wanting to ask her to hang out, no sex required, but he didn’t want to come on too strong. Didn’t want her to suspect. Whenever he was too nice, she gave him a look that made his scalp sweat. She couldn’t know yet. She didn’t like him enough.
“Okay,” Nick said. “If that’s not— I mean, we park down the street so our neighbors won’t see us in front of the house.”
“We’re friends,” Vi said defensively. “Friends hang out. Go to barbecues together.”
She toyed with her hair, a strand falling out of the ribbon and over her face.
Nick had to clench his hands to stop himself from reaching up.
She was so gorgeous. Sweet and kind, and she had a bite to her, even if she tried to hide it.
Even if she wasn’t his mate, he would still be gone over her.
He couldn’t imagine a version of himself that wasn’t.
“Nick,” Vi said.
Nick blinked. “What?”
“It was just an idea. If you don’t want—”
“I want,” Nick said, loud enough that the tired incubus examining bagels glanced over at them. Nick smiled at him, too tight, until he looked away with a yawn.
“That’d actually be great,” he admitted. “I’d . . . I’d appreciate it.”
Vi looked startled. She probably wasn’t used to Nick being so sincere, he realized as he turned back to the deli counter. No one was used to Nick being sincere. If Nick started going around being sincere all of a sudden, they’d take him in to have his head examined.
He tapped the deli window, gesturing at all the foods lined up behind the glass.
“Seriously,” he said. “What are we bringing?”