24. Nick #2
“Kids?” June asks, voice flat.
Without reading the room, Shelley continues, “Greyson moved to the west coast with his girlfriend because that’s where her family is from. I don’t know what I’ll do with myself if they have kids and they’re so far away.”
“Even when they’re close, it doesn’t guarantee grandparent time,” Mickie says. “Laurel’s got a little boy, Tate, and we barely see them. Sometimes I’ll drive down for a weekend just to get my grandbaby snuggles in.”
“Tate’s super sweet.” June’s polite mask falls, and her eyes are overbright.
“It’s good to see you settling down, Nicky.” Dad’s smile is indulgent before he turns to Tomas and fake-whispers, “The women’s grandbaby talk is scaring them.”
That tension in Tomas’s shoulders is back, but his tone is light. “Our kids have plenty of time before they have their own kids.”
“Plenty of time,” June echoes, smiling, but it’s fake. The bridge of her nose does this little scrunching thing when she smiles for real. Just imagining it makes my heart thump hard.
I shovel a forkful of food into my mouth, hoping by the time I finish chewing, the conversation will move on.
But my jaw clenches as I chew. Why does everyone ask about starting a family?
And why were all those comments directed at June?
Not me. We’re the same age, but no one ever asks me when I’m going to have kids.
June’s clearly dealt with these types of conversations multiple times, otherwise she wouldn’t appear so relaxed, deflecting questions so easily.
As the dinner wears on, though, June’s earlier silence creeps back in, a shield against the world. Against me. She talks less and less, and when she does speak, she pauses beforehand, drawing up the words from a deep place behind her defenses.
I understand needing to shut the world out sometimes. But not with me. I can’t let her do that with me.
Nick
“That went pretty well. Your dad and Shelley are sweet together, and our parents got along great,” June says once we’re finally alone in my car and I’m pulling out of the parking lot. The streetlights blink on even though the sun hasn’t fully set. The sky’s painted in pink and orange.
“They do.” I steel myself. “It was … a lot, though. About the kids and family stuff. I’m sorry I didn’t?—”
“It’s okay.” She lays a hand on my forearm.
Her touch doesn’t calm me this time. Because it’s not okay. But I can’t quite articulate why, which only frustrates me further. “I felt blindsided, too, is all.”
June’s face is turned to the passenger window as she says, “It’s normal to assume. Of course your dad wants to know about your family plans. And my mother never misses a moment to oh-so-subtly suggest I should move home.”
“I’m sorry your mom isn’t being supportive.”
“It is what it is.” She shrugs. “She wants what’s best for me, she’s just assuming she knows what’s best for me. And she doesn’t. Though to be fair, I’m not sure I know what’s best for me, either.”
“Performing,” I answer, without hesitation. “You’re a performer. If you keep chasing your dreams, your mom will see that. One day,” I add. “Hopefully.”
June huffs a laugh, but quiets, her voice a whisper. “It’s hard when someone doesn’t see the real you.”
“I should’ve let my dad see the real me before now.” I sigh, flexing my grip on the steering wheel. “But if he didn’t see the real me, then he couldn’t be disappointed in me, you know?”
She turns her body in the passenger seat.
I dart my gaze from the road to June and startle.
Her stare is so intense, I’m captured by it.
I stop at a red light, and our eyes connect and hold.
“But that version of yourself is exhausting, because it’s a performance.
Just like in high school. Is that the kind of relationship you want? ”
Don’s the only parent I have left, the only link back to my mom.
I’d take any relationship with him over none, but she’s right, I’m exhausted from it.
I grew up believing it’s easy to love the boy who doesn’t need anything, who doesn’t bother anyone.
June’s shown me that’s not true, though.
Because she’s larger than life, in your face—in the best way.
Her big feelings don’t scare me; if anything, it gives me permission to have those feelings too. “I don’t want to be that way with you.”
The stoplight chooses this moment to turn green, so I tear my eyes away from her, but I wish I didn’t have to. I’ll never tire of looking at her, of the way she sees the world.
“You don’t?” she asks, voice soft.
“Never.”
“Even when I move back to the city? If— when I go on tour? It’s easy to be with me this summer.”
“And you think it’ll get harder?”
“I know it will. I’m busy, and messy, and loud?—”
“I l-like those things about you,” I choke out. That wasn’t the L word I wanted to use.
“You like them now,” she whispers, and it’s killing me not to watch all her feelings play out on her face. “But …” She trails off.
She said being vulnerable was easier for her as an actress, but I never realized how true that was until tonight.
Every little thought shows in her expressions.
I could sit and stare at her forever, just watching as she decides what kind of coffee she’ll order, or how she’ll coach one of her students, or how she’ll rip my heart out with whatever comes after “but.”
Because nothing good ever comes after it.
I flick on my blinker and pull over to the side of the road. The sun’s almost completely behind the horizon, casting orange rays across the dashboard. I can’t do this. I can’t drive and listen to June fucking break up with me at the same damn time. “But?” My voice is scraped raw, ragged.
“But …” She draws the word out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Eventually, you won’t. Eventually, you’ll see the real me, and I won’t be worth the headache.”
Yeah, she ripped my fucking heart out. “You think you’re not worth it for me? That a day will come when I don’t want you, when I don’t want us ?”
“Because you don’t understand what it’ll be like. And once you do, it’ll be too late.” She snaps her mouth shut, turning to stare out the windshield.
“Too late for what?” I ask, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. “Tell me. Too late for what?”
“Too late for me to love anybody else,” she whispers, mouth wavering.
My head pounds to the beat of my heart, blood rushes in my ears, and my fingertips go numb. She loves me. June loves me. But for whatever reason, she doesn’t think I love her back, not enough, anyway. “I can’t win an argument about something I haven’t done yet, June.”
“I know you’re right. I just … can’t help feeling this way.”
“It kills me that you don’t trust me.”
“It’s not about you?—”
“Yes, it is. You think I’ll back out. That I could ever walk away from you. Look at me.” I can’t take it, I need her eyes on me. I cup her jaw, tilting her face to mine. “If you think I won’t hold on with everything I have, then you don’t know me.”
She shakes her head in my grasp, but I refuse to let her go.
Her hand goes to my wrist, except she doesn’t pull away like I thought she would.
June’s hand tightens, holding onto me. “I do know you, Nick. I do. And that’s how I know I’ll disappoint you.
” When I go to refute her, she pushes on, “Yes, I will. And when we said a day at a time, I thought I could handle it. That I could just be with you, here and now, and not worry about the future. But I can’t ignore it.
You’re right in front of me, and I already miss you. ”
“I don’t know what to say to make you believe me, June.”
“There’s nothing you can say.”
She’s right. Words won’t be enough. “Then I’ll show you, every day I’ll show you.”
June smiles, but it’s sad, and melts off her face faster than she pasted it on. She doesn’t believe me. Yet. “Okay, you’ll show me.”
“I will.”
“Could you,” she says, biting her lip. “Drop me off at Willow’s tonight? I feel bad I didn’t get to see her today, and I just … need a minute to breathe.”
I stare. I stare long and hard, waiting for a crack in her defenses. But either she’s purposefully schooling her features, or the answer’s there and I don’t want to see it. “Is this—are we still together?”
“I’ll always want to be with you, Nick.” Her eyes travel over my face. The hand at my wrist goes to my cheek, her fingers brushing back my hair. “Today was crazy, we both need a reset.”
“A reset,” I parrot, though I’m not sure what that means.
But she smiles like we’re on the same page, and that’s enough for now.
“I’ll take you.” And with that, I pull onto the road, driving June farther from Kinney Run, farther from me.