“Annie.” Nick’s hand met my arm. I couldn’t say anything. I just nodded, sucking back tears until he pulled me into a hug. He held me so close, so wholeheartedly, barring one arm across my upper back and holding my head to his shoulder with the other.
He didn’t know what it had been like, growing up with a mom who kept getting and kicking cancer . . . until she didn’t. Being a stand-in mom to my siblings, while loving and caring for my mom all the while. He didn’t know, but he held me like I needed to be held. In his arms, I could let go. I could let it hurt. I could ugly cry. I didn’t have to be strong for my siblings. I could just be sad, and he only thought of me. Not what my dad or my brother would think. Not what my little sisters would feel seeing me fall apart. He was the friend I needed right then, and something more than that.
My rock? Too hard. Nick was softer than that. He was more like my old oak tree: dependable, protective, firm, and strong.
Nick knew I needed someone, and he was the someone who volunteered for the job.
The best part? He didn’t say anything. I got so tired of people saying something, which mostly, they had stopped years ago. But even the memory of the stupid things people would say in the name of justifying something unfair could still upset me.
“God called her home.”
“Shewas too precious for this world.”
“Now she’ll beable to be there for all of you at thesame time.”
“Everything happens for a reason.”
Thoughts of those conciliatory words made me cry harder, and Nick stood solid. What was there to say? There was just being. Being there, on Thanksgiving, without her. The parade went on, and the pies would be baked, and she wasn’t there.
His lips met the top of my head and he squeezed me tighter. I pulled away, swiping at my nose. His thumbs stroked over the tears on my cheeks, his eyes searching mine.
“Hi,” I whispered.
“Hi, angel.”
My lips curled up at the pet name. “I’m feeling a little needy.”
He got a big smile and blushed, his long, dark lashes standing out. “Oh yeah? What are you needy for, Annabelle?” His head dipped, hovering his lips in front of mine.
“You know,” I pouted.
His finger lifted my chin. “Something like this?” His lips brushed mine, soft as a feather. I hated that my stomach jumped at the touch. Traitorous stomach. Nick and I couldn’t be a thing. And there he was, acting like we were a thing.
And still, I deepened the kiss, taking what I needed from him. Greedy. Selfish. Stupid.
We broke apart at Greg barking at something out the front window. Nick yelled after him, then turned back to me. “Sorry. He has all new stuff to bark at here.”
I gave him a smile and stepped back to the kitchen counter, getting out the ingredients to make another pie crust.
“What are you making?”
“Another pie crust, assuming that’s what those apples are for,” I said.
“I bought frozen crusts,” he said.
I laughed. “Mom would never approve of that. We’re doing this at my house, so we’re doing it my way.”
Nick wrapped his arms around me from behind where I stood at the counter, jostling me from side to side. “Yes, miss.”
“There’s an apron hanging beside the fridge. I don’t want you to get your fancy clothes dirty.”
I showed him how to fold the shortening into the flour since we needed to make two crusts for an apple pie. His long fingers were clumsy with the dough, but it was fun to watch. He eyed me while I worked my own dough ball.
“So, Nick, what are you doing here?”
He bumped me with his hip. “Making pie.”
I planted him with a look. “You know what I mean. This is kinda couple-y.”
