63. Nick
SIXTY-THREE
NICK
“Do I smell bacon?” Callum asks when he walks into the kitchen.
I grunt and point to the pan while I continue slicing the cauliflower.
He picks up a slice and chomps it down before reaching for another one.
“I’m starving,” he exclaims. “Get this…”
He launches into a story, and I give an occasional nod, only half listening while my gaze drifts out the window.
The deep blue sky has transformed over the last fifteen minutes as storm clouds rolled in.
The change—from sunshine and an occasional fluffy white cloud moving lazily over the horizon to ominous dark-blue storm clouds—has been impressively fast. The colors seem muted somehow, almost dark grayish blue like it’s the middle of the night.
Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbles.
The timer goes off, and I pull the pan of sweet potato slices out of the oven.
“Getting nasty out there,” Callum says.
I take another glance out the window, giving him an absent nod.
“You heard anything from Indy today?” he asks. “How’s he doing?”
I snap my eyes up. “What do you mean?”
“He texted. Said he wasn’t feeling well.” He tosses a cherry tomato into his mouth.
I frown and check my phone. Still nothing from Blue. All my messages today have gone unanswered and unread. I put the phone down slowly, mind already racing, so whatever else I do in Callum’s kitchen during the next twenty minutes happens on some kind of autopilot before I give up.
I grab my phone. “I’ll just go check on him.”
I pace while I listen to the dial tone, but he doesn’t pick up. What does pick up, though, is my heartrate. There’s a rising rumble outside.
A storm is coming.
It’s an almost absent thought, but it spurs me into action.
I stuff my phone into my pocket.
“Going out for a bit,” I call, and without waiting for a reply, I head outside.
All around me on the street are people sending anxious looks toward the darkening sky and rushing to get inside before the rain hits.
I jump into my car and pull into traffic. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel the whole way to Blue’s place. As I park in front of their building, the first fat drops of rain start coming down. I sprint inside and up the stairs.
Bridget opens the door with a surprised look on her face.
“Nick.” She frowns. “What brings you by?”
“Blue,” I say over my shoulder, already striding toward his bedroom. “Is he okay?”
“I don’t think he’s home,” Bridge calls after me just as I open Blue’s door, and true to her word, it’s empty.
I drag my hand through my hair, hovering in the doorway with no idea what to do now.
“Any idea where he is?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Why?”
“He wasn’t at Callum’s. Said he wasn’t feeling well.”
“I just got home. Maybe he went out to pick something up?” Bridget offers.
But the bed doesn’t look like anybody’s slept in it, and there’s a stale stillness in the air.
“Have him call me if he gets back,” I tell Bridge before I push past her and out of the apartment.
“Sure. Everything okay?” she calls after me. I wave her off without looking back.
The rain’s coming down harder now, and a flash of lightning lights up the sky. I slam the car door shut behind me and just sit for a moment before I grab my phone and dial Dia’s number.
She picks up almost immediately. “I’m in a rehearsal, so you better be quick, and it better be important.”
“Blue. Any idea where he is?”
“Haven’t seen him today,” she says before she pauses. “What do you mean? He was at your place last night, wasn’t he?”
I lean my forehead against the steering wheel and try to think. “He was gone by the time I woke up this morning.”
She’s silent for a moment. “Were you a dick?”
I grit my teeth.
“It’s a fair question,” she says defensively.
My shoulder slump and I tap my forehead against the steering wheel. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve been trying to fix things, so if I’ve been a dick, that doesn’t bode well. Not that I’ve been great at it so far.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know!” I snap. “It’s been fucking weird, okay? It’s like the more I try, the more he pulls away. I gave him a key to the boat rack, and he looked like he was about to have a panic attack.”
“What boat rack?” Dia asks.
“It doesn’t matter. I just… I tried to fix at least something, okay? So I bought him a kayak and a shell and then I… You know what? That’s not important.”
Silence takes over, neither of us saying anything, but neither of us hanging up either.
“Nick?” Dia says. “A shell? You don’t think he’s out there right now, do you? There’s a thunderstorm.”
Everything goes cold inside me. “Oh fuck. No. He’s… It’s Blue. He knows better.”
“Yeah,” Dia says. “Yeah.”
Somebody shouts something in the distance on Dia’s end.
“Coming,” she says. “Listen, I have to go.”
“He probably went to the store or something.”
“Yeah. Let me know if you hear from him, will you?”
I turn on the engine and throw the phone onto the passenger seat before I pull back out onto the road, tires squeal against the slick pavement.
My pulse hammers frantically in my ears, and rain lashes against the windshield. The wipers are working at full speed, but they barely keep up. Every few seconds another sheet of water crashes down, turning the world outside the car into a blur of headlights and dark shadows.
It takes way too long. It seems like I’m stopping at every red light and every intersection. Every car in front of mine crawls forward at a maddeningly slow pace.
I squeeze the steering wheel, my eyes constantly flicking between the road and the dark harbor, barely visible through the rain.
Come on.
Come on.
Thunder echoes from all sides, the sound low and heavy. It seems to vibrate through the car. Flash after flash of lightning splits the sky over the water, illuminating the harbor one heartbeat at a time before everything is swallowed up by darkness again.
My stomach drops.
Blue might be out there.
Alone.
I know he’s competent as fuck. He’s spent more time on the water than most people ever will, but right now that doesn’t matter. All I can see is the storm, and all I can hear is the wind and the way rain drums against the roof.
I park the car and jump out, slamming the door behind me. Rain immediately soaks through my clothes. Wind whips across the water, and waves crash against the dock. The sky is nearly black, despite it only being the afternoon.
I sprint toward the boat racks.
Please, please, please, please.
The rack is empty.
My stomach drops so hard it feels like I’m standing on a cliff and the ground has disappeared from beneath me.
I turn and run. The docks blur past, and rain stings my eyes. When I reach the shore, I stop so abruptly I nearly slip. Water stretches out before me, dark gray and wild in the wind.
And empty.
There’s nothing.
I don’t see anything.
Another flash of lightning illuminates the water before the darkness crashes back down, followed by a deafening roar of thunder.
“Blue!” The name rips out of my chest, and the wind carries it away.
I blink the rain out of my eyes and wipe my forearm over my face.
Another flash of lightning.
And something in the distance. Movement. A dark shape appears and disappears between the waves.
My breath hitches, and I squint.
“Jesus Christ.” The words come out in a shaky breath. Relief hits harder than the storm.
I stand frozen for a second, watching the violent waves and the way the shell rises and falls. Watching Blue work.
The wind is trying to throw him sideways, but he keeps correcting, keeps fighting. Keeps approaching.
It’s terrifying and awful, and I’m so fucking useless, but my heartbeat starts to even out because this is Blue, and he’s stubborn as fuck.
The shell is almost here. I don’t wait. Instead, I kick off my sneakers and wade straight into the water. The cold hits like a punch to the stomach, but I barely notice. The water climbs higher as I push forward, past my knees, then my thighs, then my waist.
I keep going.
Waves slam into me.
Blue finally looks up.
Our eyes meet through the rain. For a second, the oars stop, and he just stares.
I reach him just as another wave lifts the shell, and my fingers close around the grab handle.
He wipes the water out of his eyes. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” he yells over a clap of thunder.
I clutch the handle tighter. He slides out of the shell and wades toward me.
“You fucking idiot!” he shouts over the wind and the rain.
I let out something halfway between a laugh and a sob of sheer relief.
He shakes his head, and together we drag the shell toward the shore.
Once we’re on dry land, we drop the shell, and I grab his hand and start to run toward the car.
Thunder and lightning rage all around us as I tear the passenger side door open and push Blue inside before I sprint to the other side of the car and jump in.
Once I slam the door shut behind me, the sound of the storm becomes muted.
We’re both sopping wet and I’m still barefoot. Blue drags a hand through his hair and over his face in an abrupt swipe.
“What the fuck, Nicholas?” he snaps. “What the hell were you thinking?”
I take him in—the water running down his face in rivulets, his hair plastered to his face, pale from the cold, shivering.
He’s never looked more beautiful.
Or more pissed off.
“You don’t run into the water in a thunderstorm!” he shouts. “They teach you that in grade school, Nicholas!” Another irritated swipe of his hand over his face. And a glare.
“You were out on the water in a shell, Blue.” I feel a sudden urge to laugh now that we’re safe and sound. “Pot and kettle and all that.”
He slumps back against his seat, eyes impossibly fierce and angry.
“Why…” His chest rises and falls with abrupt, shallow breaths. “Why are you here? What are you doing here?”
I lean forward, take his hand in mine, and link our fingers. With my other hand I grab the back of his neck and tug him toward me. And then I press my lips to his.