CHAPTER 27
NOW
NICKY
“Don’t go.” I press my forehead against her temple, still clutching her to me from behind. Her body begins to tremble within my hold, her eyes squeezed shut as she fights to contain her tears. “Tell me,” I whisper against her jaw, my hand crossing over her chest to cradle the opposite side of her face. “Tell me what I can do.”
She takes a steadying breath, her eyes opening to find mine in our reflection. “You can stop pitying me.”
I freeze, dread suddenly flooding my veins as the lies I weaved for the benefit of the boys replay within my mind.
She heard me.
Fuck.
“Daph,” I shake my head, “I—”
“Don’t.” She cuts me off, her posture straightening so she no longer leans into me for support. Taking hold of my hands, she pulls them from her body, spinning to face me head-on. “It’s time we called this for what it is, Nicky—a mistake.”
“Nothing involving you could ever be a mistake.”
“Except the idea of being with me, right?”
“Jesus Christ, Daph,” I growl, fisting my hair in frustration as anxiety begins to coil in my chest. I pace the room, a feeble attempt to delay the onset of my ever-rising panic, which threatens the sanctity of my sanity. Why does she do this to me? Doesn’t she see this is what’s best for her?
Daphne scoffs, her head dipping in disappointment as she turns toward the door. The sight of her leaving cracks something open inside of me, though it’s nothing compared to the pain of the realization she intends to return to him. “What do you want from me?!”
“I want you, you fucking idiot!” she screams, her wild curls whipping about her face as she spins back in my direction, hands outstretched at her sides.
“Which version?” Daph falters, the question I pose catching her off guard. “The motocross star? Hmm? The millionaire? The gangster? Which mask that I’ve painstakingly constructed in this never-ending game of make-believe do you like best? Which lie is your favorite?”
She rushes forward, her hands gripping hold of my face and dragging my forehead to hers. “I want the boy I met in that funeral parlor.”
My brain blanks out, her answer stunning me to silence as the world fades away, leaving a place where only she and I remain.
“I want the guy I held through his panic attack the first time he climbed in my window. I want the asshole who isn’t afraid to tell me to cut my shit but would be pissed if the day came where I actually fell in line. I want the boy who swore to always pick up the phone and the man who has never failed to keep that promise. I want the dork that laughs at my terrible jokes, the gearhead who used to lose himself for hours in a bike build, the romantic who sends me seventeen dahlias—one for every year we’ve known one another.” Her right hand slips low, her palm trailing downward and coming to press against the center of my chest. “I want the tortured king who shoulders the weight of everyone’s burdens, and the ruthless devil who breathes easier when he’s painted in blood.”
Daph stares at me, her eyes a vast sea of emotion, yet not a drop of fear to be found.
“I know you better than anyone on this planet. Better than your boys, better than Jones.” Fisting the fabric of my shirt, she tears the buttons apart with one swift tug. “Better than her.” She gestures to the lip print tattoo on my side before taking my face in her hands once more. “I see you, Nicky. Every fucked-up, jagged piece. I see you, and I love you anyway.”
My entire world comes to a screeching halt as I loop those words on repeat in my mind, determined to commit each and every syllable uttered in her melodic tone to memory.
I love you anyway.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
There’s very little I would consider a necessity in life, but after hearing Daph say those three little words, I have no doubt everyday I’m forced to live in their absence will be nothing short of a slow and torturous death to my soul.
“But that’s all you ever give me—broken pieces at a time.” Her voice cracks, a shaky sob threatening to break through. “And with the way they’re carving me up, if we keep at this, there’s not going to be much of me left. So, if you want me to stay, I need you to give me all of you. I need to know you’re all in.”
The restraint I’m forced to harness to prevent myself from shouting YES is a feat unlike any I’ve battled before. My stomach sours, the nausea threatening to overtake me as my body attempts to rebel against my mind.
In all the years I have known Daph, I don’t think she’s ever looked as stunning or vulnerable as she does right now, standing before me, demanding I, at long last, make a choice. As if the choice was ever mine to make. I have spent years thinking I didn’t have a heart, but the truth is I do—I’d just given it away when I was eight years old.
Daphne may not have all of me, but she has the one part that matters. She’s shielded it from the darkness my sins have cultivated, allowing at least some form of me to remain pure. This is the part of me I want her to hold onto—the only part of me worthy of her love. It’s what I want her to remember above all else when the rest of me inevitably self-destructs.
And when that happens, I don’t want her anywhere near me.
“I’m sorry.”
Her shoulders visibly deflate, though the strength of her determined stare never wavers. “Then I need you to let me go.”
The beating I threw Lucian tonight pales in comparison to the devastating blow her words just delivered. My body slightly sways, struggling to remain upright as I’m forced to watch her back away. The distance between us grows all too quickly, with her pausing briefly only when she reaches the door.
“You know, it’s ironic. I was mad at you for pitying me, when I’m guilty of the same offense.” The strangled sound which escapes her throat falls somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “I do pity you, Nick. I pity the day it finally dawns on you. One day you’re gonna wake up and realize I was the one.”
She storms out, leaving nothing behind but the faint scent of strawberries, and the haunting echo of her parting words.
She’s got it wrong, though. I already know she’s the one.
Deep down, I’ve always known. Doesn’t change a thing.
If anything, it’s the reason I can’t keep her.