20. Nick #2
My hands slide from the outside of her thighs up to her hips, squeezing. The feel of her in my grip calms me. “He didn’t want to tell me about her, because he worried I’d think he stopped missing my mom.”
“Oh, Nick.” She sits up, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
“No,” I answer, burying my face in her hair. “I told him as much, and said he’d know what I was thinking if he ever bothered to ask.”
She tightens her hug before releasing me. “Good for you. You—you’re amazing, taking care of your dad. I don’t think I could, if something happened to my parents. I’m selfish like that.”
“You’re not selfish for pursuing your dreams.”
“Maybe not selfish, but not very smart according to my mother.” Her voice is brittle, thin.
“What? I thought your parents always supported you?”
“They do. I mean, they did. But apparently thirty is the cut-off date for dreams. My mom’s been hinting that I should buy a house, move back home.
I’m not getting any younger.” She rolls her eyes.
“Ugh, moms.” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she sucks in a breath, covering her mouth with her hand.
“Oh, fuck, that was such an asshole thing to say.”
“It’s fine.” And it is. Of course I miss my mom every day. Sometimes the hole is jagged and wide, other times it’s small. But I’ve learned how to breathe, how to live and grieve at the same time.
“No, it’s not,” she replies. “I remember. When your mom died junior year. I don’t know if I ever told you I was sorry, but I was. I am. So, so sorry, Nick.”
“You can still be frustrated with your mom, I get it.” If anything, I’m more shocked that June's mom would say that. “My mom would’ve told you to keep chasing your dream. She always wanted me to get out of Sadlersburg.”
“Why didn’t you?”
I rub a hand over my face, my headache from earlier throbbing once at the base of my skull.
“I got a scholarship to Sadler U for music ed. I couldn’t pass that up, especially after my dad had, uh, trouble affording school after her medical bills.
It turned out fine, and I’m glad I was home to help out after his accident. ”
“It’s been so long since I’ve been on an audition, it doesn’t feel like I’m chasing a dream anymore. It feels like I’m just existing. Stuck. I don’t fit anywhere.”
I take both her hands in mine, pulling them against my chest. “You fit with me.”
“Here in Sadlersburg?” The disbelief coloring her question hits like a slap.
I would never, ever ask her to move here or give up her dreams, no matter how she felt about them, but she clearly hasn’t even considered that our relationship could be long term. “No. I know this small town wouldn’t make you happy.”
I release her hands, but she grabs mine and shakes them until I look at her. “Nick, that’s not what I meant.”
I bite back as much of my frustration as I can. “So you would be happy here? In Sadlersburg?”
I die a thousand deaths in the pause she takes before answering, “I’d be happy with you.”
Our gazes connect. In her stare, I feel it, the wall I put up between me and my own dreams starts crumbling.
There it is again, hope .
Fuck, it’s frightening.
But you can still make mistakes standing still, like I said to my dad. “I’m happy with you, too. No matter what happens after Conservatory.”
Her hand slips to the back of my neck, pulling me down until we’re nose to nose. “I know what’s happening after Conservatory.”
My heart sticks in my throat until I taste it beating. “Oh, you do?”
“It’s me and you. As long as you want me,” she murmurs.
I laugh because anything less than forever isn’t enough. “You know I do.”
Her lips purse into a thin line, head shaking. “Maybe, maybe not. Tour life is hard. I wouldn’t be just a bus ride away. You’d have to fly out to visit, and I’d always be on the move.”
“That would never stop me?—”
She slips a hand over my mouth, her fingers cool against my skin. “Don’t make a promise you can’t keep. You say that now, but in nine months? If I book back-to-back tours?”
I grab her wrist, pressing a kiss to the heel of her palm before I slide her hand to my cheek. I’m speechless, but not for the reason she might think.
She sees a future for us. Maybe nine months isn’t a lot, but it’s more than the six weeks I thought we’d have. And she doesn’t realize what she said. It only makes me want her more, worrying that there would be a time in nine months or nine years when I wouldn’t want to be with her.
There’s so much to figure out. I want to ask about Nat’s show, the one June brought up when she proposed we fake date, but she’ll assume I don’t support her touring. My hand still covers hers where it rests against my face, so I lace our fingers together. “Day at a time?”
Her lips pull into a smile, the kind I need more than I need air. But worry still lines her eyes. I wish I could take it away. “Day at a time,” she agrees.
With a sigh, I force myself to back away, hoisting the milk crate of food and drinks between us. I need something to do with my hands otherwise I’ll never stop touching her. “Come on, we better get back before we miss more drama.”