Page 112 of Any Port in a Storm

His mouth opens in protest, but I cut him off. “Let me take care of you, okay?”

A tear drips off the bridge of his nose. “Okay,” he agrees, voice rough with grief.

He looks like he’s about to fall over. “Why don’t you come lie down?”

“I don’t think⁠—”

“Nick.”

The finality in my voice must be enough to convince him. He tentatively lowers himself onto the bed, curling into the fetal position. I pull a blanket over his shoulders, then lie down beside him. “I’ve got you, okay? Whatever you need.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “Thank you.”

I want to wrap him in love and take away his pain. Gulping down the urge to sob right along with him, I pull his head against my shoulder; run my fingers through his hair. An errant sob rattles out of him, and it vibrates through me like it was mine to begin with.

“I’m here, Nick.” I squeeze him a little tighter. “I’m always here.”

He nods against my neck, which is wet with saline. “Are you sure this is okay?”

I know he means because of earlier. But that conversation feels like it’s light-years away. Because this—Nick and I, being each other’s steadying force? This is what feels right. This is how it’s always been.

“Hey,” I say, pulling back to look into his face. “Right now, you and I are stuck in this little universe, just the two of us. But we exist together in a thousand other universes, too. And whatever we’ve become to each other, you’re always going to be my best friend in all those other timelines.” I squeeze his shoulder. “I’m never letting go of that.”

A faint smile edges in at the corners of his lips. “I’m never letting go of you, either.”

I think this is what I was feeling, back when Alyssa broke up with Nick all those years ago. It’s the same sort of desperate desire to protect him; to surround him in my love like it’s bubble wrap against the evils of the world.

Even with everything that happened last year, that throbbing in my soul, so deep it hurts, is still there. And with every passing day, it’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

It’s like he’s got half my heart and I’ve got half of his—every time the universe tries to break him, it’s breaking me, too. But the beauty of it exists right alongside the risk, I suppose—no matter what happens, I’m carrying the other half of his heart in mine, and I’m going to safeguard it with my life.

We drift closer together under the sheets, my leg hooked over his ankles, his hand on my arm. I can feel his warm breath on my cheek; his tears soaking my hair. We’re a mess of emotions—love and loss and longing. Just like it’s always been.

My pinky, brushing his on our picnic blanket, that day on the Esplanade with Grace. His eyes, dropping to my lips, while we danced at the autumn formal. Swaying to Steve Winwood; traipsing through museums. Dinners and movies and study sessions. Hugs that melted the weight of the world; words that meant so much more.

It’s like my love for Nick has been lying dormant, a dull ache forever simmering just below the surface. Even when I ignored it, tried to pretend it wasn’t real—it’s always been there, waiting until it reached a fever pitch. Until we couldn’t ignore it anymore.

I can’t ignore it anymore.

I lean forward and press a kiss against his cheek, then another. They’re mixing with my tears on his skin, a tide pool of fervent promises. “I’m never letting you go,” I say again.

But he’s already asleep.

THIRTY-TWO

last february

Idon’t think I’ve ever walked across campus so quickly in my life as when Nick and I leave the library. We barely make it through the doorway of his apartment before we’re drawn, as if by magnets, back together. Nick’s hands are at my hips and mine are in his hair, our mouths a wild mess of passionate kisses and wanting.

“Jesus, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, skimming his lips down my neck in a way that makes it hard to breathe.

“Far from it, but I’ll take the praise.”

He drags his gaze back to mine. “Just trust me.”

I’m feeling a little weak in the knees at the intensity in his expression. I can’t tell if it’s love or lust or some combination of the two, but I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone this badly in my life.

I run a tentative finger along the waistband of his pants, and he shudders into the touch. “You like that?” I ask, dipping my hand lower.