Chapter 33 #2
He said all the right words. The words I’d ached for a lifetime to hear a man say and really mean.
And yet… “I don’t know if I can stay,” I whispered, so broken I barely recognized my own voice.
“I can’t do this to you. You’re in this mess because of me.
This was just fake… a Christmas dream. We had a bargain. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” Nash echoed, stiffening, like his own armour was locking into place to keep out the pain of my words.
He chuckled mirthlessly and stared up at the ceiling.
“Then I guess that’s your choice, isn’t it?
But don’t make decisions for me, Stephanie.
” He pulled away, careful not to let me sway as I readjusted to standing on my own.
He raked his hand through his unruly hair again.
“Trust, Steph. That’s what I’m asking. For a chance to fight for you.
” He reached out, his fingers a ghost touch on my cheek.
I wanted to sink into the caress, believe every word, let him fight for me.
But that black hole of anxiety, swirling with doubt, eclipsed that hope.
I cared about him too much to let him take the fall for me.
“I…” All the words I wanted to say choked me, locking in my throat, refusing to be uttered.
When I said nothing, Nash dropped his hand, his jaw working with unspoken words. But he ducked out of the room without another protest, his shoulders taut with frustrated emotion.
I trudged down the hall to Liz’s room, where I’d be bunking.
Usually I’d just take the couch, but she wanted a sleepover to debrief over the holidays.
I was too tired to argue. Her cotton-candy pink room looked like Tinkerbell and her friends were in charge of decorating.
The whimsical cottage room was tiny, barely big enough for the queen bed, leaving no room for a cot or pallet. Guess we were splitting the bed.
“Steph?” Liz’s voice was soft behind me, like she was lulling a wounded animal into complacency before poking it with her own special brand of hardcore honesty.
“I’m fine.” At least I still had Liz. For a while, till she gets married and leaves you behind. Because everyone leaves you. You aren’t worth it. And now Nash hates you because you’re a coward, that ugly voice whispered in my head. Stop! Just… stop.
I caught her frown in the mirror as she closed the door behind her. “Don’t hide from me. I watched that man walk out of here with a smile while his eyes told me his heart was breaking. What did you say to him? I heard arguing, which is so not you.”
I huffed, wrapping my arms around my middle, trying to stave off the growing sinkhole of panic threatening to swallow me. “I told him to fire me or let me quit. It’ll get Hiram off his back.”
“And he didn’t agree?”
“Of course not! He asked me to trust him and said he wasn’t leaving because—” I choked on a sob, the words tangling in my throat with no escape.
“Because?” Liz prompted gently.
“He said I’m worth staying for,” I whispered the healing words, aching to believe them, but they hadn’t sunk in yet.
“Good man.” She nodded approvingly. “Then what’s the problem?”
“This!” I shrieked, waving a hand over my body. “Me! I’m not sure I can do this. With him. He’s so… so…”
“Steady?” Liz crossed her arms, tilting her head as if studying me at a different angle would help her figure out this mess of Stephanie I was emitting.
“Steph, I say this with love, but you’re the one pushing him away.
Not the other way around. You’re letting your fears speak louder than the truth and believing the lies of the ones who never loved you enough for their voices to matter in your life.
Your fear of abandonment is valid, but it’s ruling your present.
You can’t demand a man’s loyalty only to be the one to get fickle at the first sign of a storm.
” Her posture softened slightly. “I know trust doesn’t come easy—with men especially—but he’s proved himself, Stephanie. Be brave.”
The words ached like resetting a broken bone—painful in the moment but healing long term—and their truth rattled me down to my core.
I’d been so terrified of Nash being like my father, leaving without a backwards glance, that I never realized my own tendencies to do the exact same thing the first minute I got scared.
“I’m a mess,” I croaked. “I thought I was past this.”
Liz hugged me. “We all are, but the burdens get lighter when we share them. And maybe don’t make life-changing decisions on a sleep deficit.”
The raging emotion shook my insides, and I couldn’t breathe. My lungs were tight bands of iron cladding, morphing my every breath into a wheezing gasp. The panic spread its tentacles through my body, starting to drag me over the edge of the abyss. Oh no. “Liz…”
“I’ve got you.” She rubbed gentle circles over my back, humming softly. A hymn I recognized as “‘Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus.” Liz wasn’t built for subtlety. But she’d been there for my panic attacks before, touch and sound being the biggest components to easing my episode.
I shut my eyes, focusing on my breathing. Feeling the rhythmic motion on my back and the tight squeeze of Liz’s embrace. This attack wouldn't get the best of me. I just needed to breathe. Breathe. I focused on the words of the song. The sweet truths.
“Thank you,” I whispered when the tidal wave ebbed into a trickling stream.
She smiled. “Always. Now get some sleep, you look like Wednesday Addams had a baby with a vampire.”
I tried to laugh but couldn’t quite manage it. It wasn’t the first time I’d gotten that comparison.
“Things will look better in the morning.” Liz drew the plaid quilt of yellow, cream, and pink back and let me slip under before she tucked me in. “Let me ask you, though: do you believe what Nash told you?”
“Yes,” I murmured, and the admission rang true. I’d seen his sincerity, felt it to my bones. “I just… panicked.”
Liz nodded. “Then sleep off this funk and go fight for your man in the morning.”
“You’re too good for me,” I muttered, half asleep.
“And you’re not getting rid of me. Ever. Got it? So don’t even think about believing those lies that say otherwise.” She draped a sherpa-lined throw over me. “That’s what friends are for. You saved my sorry hide when I didn’t deserve it. Remember he-who-shall-never-be-named-from-now-to-eternity?”
Despite my near-comatose state, I managed a snort.
That particular breakup had won the record for worst in our friend group history, and Liz had turned into a Jekyll-and-Hyde situation.
She’d narrowly avoided jail time with some of her retaliatory behaviour after she’d gone all Carrie Underwood on his truck.
And friends didn't let friends go to jail.
But she was right. This was what we did for each other. The four of us were ride or die, speak the truth when you didn’t want to hear it, and shoulder the burden types.
“Sleep,” Liz commanded, clicking off the lamp and heading for the door.
“Liz?”
“Hmm?” Her lithe silhouette from the dim hallway filled the half open doorway.
“Did I break Nash too hard?”
When she didn’t answer right away, my heart sank. I’d messed things up too badly, lashed out too desperately.
“I believe broken things can be fixed,” Liz said at last. “And often they’re more beautiful after because of the healing it requires. He’s not a runner, honey.”
Unlike me.
“You need to sleep this off,” she continued. “Then talk to him with a clear head. The problem will still be there in the morning. Sweet dreams, Stephie.”
I was asleep before the door closed, lost to a dark world of betrayal and toxic family relationships and the steadiness of a good man who stood in my corner. Fighting for me, fighting for us. Even when I didn’t deserve it.
I would trust him like he asked. Now I just had to hope he could forgive me, too.