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If we never see each other again, this is the Nick I want to remember. Paris had been a fantasy. Our fight had been a nightmare. But now? This? This is real life. Messy and chaotic and cruel and hilarious. And at the center of that storm there’s Nick, bowed but not broken. Proud and strong and pulsing with life and looking at me like he never should have let me go.
“Thank you,” he says softly.
“I was happy to,” I reply.
“Are you still going to go back to Boston?”
The frankness of the question combined with the sincerity in his eyes throws me. What happened to friends? Had I really believed that would work?
“I don’t know,” I say.
“Don’t,” he says. Then, “I want you to stay.”
I just gaze back at him, torn.
Nick leans toward me and I don’t pull away. He kisses me haltingly. Like he’s shocked by my taste, by the fact that we’re not over, that it’s not finished just yet. That maybe it’s only yet to begin.
As for me, all I can feel is relief.
Then Nick pulls away from the kiss. He rests his forehead against mine, those kind brown eyes staring straight into mine, seeing every part of me.
“This is a bad idea,” he says.
My relief cringes, but then he clarifies: “I need to apologize to Jack first. I need to make things right. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I say. “I understand completely.”
“Will you help me look for him?”
“Of course. We’ll find him.” And I’ll be right by your side until we do.
Nick smiles softly, and then leans in, presses his lips to my cheek. “Thank you,” he says, sitting back. “I wouldn’t have been able to do that if you weren’t there.”
“Yes, you would have,” I say simply. “You understand responsibility.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
NICK
I would have gone completely crazy by now if it weren’t for Evie. Institutionalized. Strait-jacketed. Pills in little cups and padded walls for my own safety.
The week we spent apart had almost driven me to it all.
It hadn’t taken long for the guilt to consume me. With Evie gone, cleaning up my apartment, I could only see Jack’s hurt face again and again, Evie’s accusations ringing in my ears. And when it was all cleaned up and there was nothing left to do? That’s when the true torture set in.
I sat down on my newly-scrubbed couch and realized that I was all alone. There would be no more high little brother watching cartoons on this very couch. No more Chinese takeout dinners listening to him talk about all the crazy crap kids his age are into.
And Evie. No more sparring with Evie. No more making her laugh. No more sunsets or sunrises. No more waking up with her snuggled against me. No more watching her ride me. No more making her come with my tongue, feeling her shiver with pleasure so strongly that it made me come as well. Like we were connected. One person, instead of two.
I’d never had that before.
And that night, looking down the barrel of my actions, I realized I might never again.
For a week I had waited for Jack to come knocking at my door. By the third day I caved and texted him an apology. I tried to leave a voicemail but found that my number was blocked.
Still I held on to hope. That if he came back then maybe it would all be okay. Maybe I could be redeemed. Maybe some people could truly love a man like me.
But as each day passed empty, I had to accept that he wasn’t coming back.
