Chapter Eighteen #3
When she pulled into her driveway, her stomach gave a warning lurch.
Nash was on the front porch swing, idly gliding back and forth, using his bare toes to push off the floorboards.
He hadn’t bothered with a shirt and his hair was still tousled from sleep, and he looked so damn good she couldn’t decide if she wanted to jump him or throw up or just keep driving until she got to Kentucky.
None of those seemed like appropriate options, so she picked up the box of pastries and got out of the car.
She climbed the porch steps, his sleepy smile and sleepy eyes welcoming and warm and making her feel like a shit coward. “Hey, you.”
“Hey.” She handed him the box. “Cinnamon rolls, as promised.”
“Mmm.” He set his coffee down on the porch and opened the lid, giving the contents an appreciative sniff. “Can’t beat that smell.” He plucked one from the box, then held it out.
She shook her head. “I had four already.”
“Jesus, Bailey.” Chuckling, he set the box down on the swing and picked up his coffee. “Was Chloe okay?”
“Sure,” she said, confused. Why wouldn’t Chloe be okay?
“No complications?”
She almost said from what? then realization hit, followed quickly by guilt. Jesus, she’d spent two hours with her best friend who’d just had an abortion, and hadn’t asked her once how she was feeling. “No, she’s fine.”
“Good.” He sank his teeth into the cinnamon roll, watching her as he chewed. He swallowed, took a sip of his coffee. “Then what’s wrong?”
She shoved her hands into her pockets. “What makes you think something is wrong?” she said, automatically trying to brazen it out, then kicked the porch rail. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”
“You’re going to break a toe,” he said she continued to kick the porch rail on each shit.
“At least I know what to do about that,” she muttered, but since a trip to urgent care would just put a cap on her day, she stopped.
“Is this about last night?”
She forced herself to look at him. “Kind of.”
At her words his gaze darkened with concern. “Did someone do something you didn’t like?”
“What? No, no, everyone was great,” she assured him. “Worth every penny, however many pennies it was.”
“It was a lot of pennies,” he said drily. “And I tipped them more.”
“Good, that’s good,” she said with a nod, then blurted out, “You said you loved me. Last night. You said you loved me.”
His face went momentarily blank, then he bent forward to set his coffee down again. “I didn’t think you heard me.”
Anxiety vanished, replaced by in irritation. “I heard you. There was a dick in my mouth, not my ear. Did you mean it?”
His lips twitched, but his gaze remained guarded. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”
“When?” she demanded.
“When, what?”
“When did you start loving me again?”
He shook his head. “Still.”
“What?”
“Still,” he repeated. “I never stopped loving you.”
She stared at him. “But…you dumped me.”
He sighed. “Because I was stupid, and scared.”
“Scared?” she repeated.
His smile was small, and sad. “I told you, I’m better at hiding it then you.”
“But…why?”
“Because I loved you.” He said it baldly, his eyes on hers, and her heart clutched at the stark vulnerability she read there. “I’d never loved anyone like I loved you.”
“Me neither,” she murmured.
“I thought, ‘there’s no way she can love me as much as I love her’.
And I knew one day you’d find someone you loved more, or fall out of love with me, and I’d be left with a broken heart.
” He paused, his mouth twisting in a wry smile.
“I’d tell myself I was just being paranoid, and I’d try not to think about it.
But it was always there, in the back of my mind.
Then we had that fight, and that asshole Kyle told me about you blowing Graham Isaac, and I thought ‘well, there’s my out’ and I dumped you.
“And I knew, as soon as I did it—hell, while I was doing it—that I was fucking up. But I couldn’t stop.
After you left I drank myself into a stupor, convinced myself I was better off.
And the next morning I woke up in a puddle of my own puke, and realized I’d thrown away…
everything that mattered. And I’ve spent every moment since trying to figure out how to get it back. ”
She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t doubt he was telling the truth—she could see it in his eyes, hear it in the words he’d ripped from his soul. Feel it in the answering joy that sang in her own heart.
But with the joy was fear. He’d loved her before, and he’d still broken her heart.
“I loved you so much,” she blurted out. “I thought I’d die when you threw me out.”
Regret darkened his eyes, pain tightened his mouth. “I know.”
“I almost didn’t graduate. It took me years to get over you. Years, Nash.”
“I know.”
“And now, I’m just supposed to…what? What am I supposed to do?”
His gaze was cautious now, like he didn’t quite know what to say. “That’s up to you.”
She paced away, then back again. The cinnamon rolls were sitting heavy in her stomach, and she wished desperately for something to drink. “You lied to me.”
He shook his head. “I never lied.”
She jabbed a finger at him. “We said we were going to be honest, remember? Total transparency.”
He grimaced, then nodded. “I remember.”
“You didn’t tell me you were still in love with me.”
“No, I didn’t.” He sighed. “I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
He lifted a hand to drag through his hair, the only sign of agitation he’d shown since she’d arrived. “Because you weren’t ready to hear it.”
“But I was ready to hear it while sucking another man’s dick?”
“I got caught up in the moment,” he admitted sheepishly. “It just slipped out.”
She scrubbed her hands over her face and, tired of standing, lowered herself to sit on the porch. “One day I’m going to look back on this, and it’ll be hilarious.”
“I’m sorry for when I said it,” he said quietly. “But I’m not sorry you know. I do love you, Bailey. I have from the first moment I saw you, and I always will.”
She kept her head down. “I love you, too.”
There was a beat of silence, then, “What?”
“I said, I love you, too.” She looked up. “I don’t think I ever stopped. I told myself I did. I had to.”
His eyes were so warm, love and a cautious sort of joy making them glow. “I know, baby.”
“And I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“That you’ll break my heart again.”
Hope leapt into his eyes, wild and bright. “I won’t.”
“How can I trust that?”
“You can’t,” he acknowledged. “Not yet. I’d have to show you, prove it to you. You’d have to give me a chance to.”
She threw up her hands, frustration and hope a tangled mess in her already unstable stomach. “I don’t even know what that would look like. It’s not like we can just pick up where we left off.”
“No, we can’t,” he agreed.
“It’s been eight years,” she went on. “We’re different people now. I own a house and a business. You own a suit.”
His dimple winked. “Just the one, though.”
“Would we start dating again?”
“We could,” he allowed. “That’s up to you, too. Whatever you want, Bailey.”
She stared at him, torn. She wanted to protect her heart, shield it from more pain. But she wanted him more. “We’d have to go slow.”
“I’ll be a snail,” he vowed, eyes glowing.
Her lips twitched in spite of the pounding of her heart. “Maybe not that slow. But I need time, Nash, to trust you. To trust us.”
“You can take all the time you need,” he promised. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I want to believe that.”
His expression twitched, the faintest of flinches. But his eyes were steady on hers. “You will. In time, you will.”
She swallowed lump of doubt, let the hope and the joy flood in. “So we’ll go slow. Date?”
A soft smile curved his mouth. “Not just date. I’m gonna woo you.”
That startled a snort out of her. “Give me a break.”
“Woo the shit out of you,” he insisted, eyes twinkling, dimple flashing. “You’ll be so wooed, baby, you won’t be able to see straight.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Just so you know, after last night, there will be no more ‘wooing’ for a couple of days.”
“I’m not talking about sex.” Standing, he reached down to pull her to her feet. “Wait, does ‘going slow’ mean not having sex anymore?”
Amused, she looped her arms around his neck. “It very much does not.”
“Thank God,” he breathed, then hastened to add, “Though I would’ve agreed to that, if you needed it.”
She patted his cheek. “You’re a brave soul. If you’re not talking about sex, what are you talking about?”
He grinned. “Romance, of course.”
With joy bubbling through her, she grinned back. “What do you know about romance?”
“I’ve been waiting eight years to show you.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Bailey?”
She closed her eyes, breathed him in. “What?”
“I love you.”
The words sang through her. “I love you, too. But you’re on your own with your mother.”
He was laughing when he took her mouth. “Deal.”