“Creek.” I waited for him to meet my gaze. “We’re all messes in one way or another. I don’t want you more or less because of it. I just want you.”
“Even after everything I?—”
“Even after everything,” I said, cutting him off.
He huffed, then dragged his hands up to the back of my neck, holding tight before pulling me into a kiss. It was intense, needy, hot, and overwhelming, but there was still a line of tension in him that had me easing off and slowing into careful pecks. I wanted him. I’d give anything to be able to crawl into the bed with him and prove that being with me was a good decision.
But not at the risk of his mental health, which was still very fragile.
He needed time, and I could be patient.
After a short forever of just sharing breath, he knocked our foreheads together and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Tell me I can see you soon.”
“You can see me soon,” I said without missing a beat. “Volleyball season’s over, so I’m not too busy after school, and you know my PT schedule. Whatever free time I have is yours.” And I meant it. I wouldn’t make that promise to just anyone, but for him, I would.
He pulled back and cupped my cheek, staring at me with a little wonder in his eyes. “I’m going to call you.”
I smiled and kissed him again, thorough and a little messy, until he was groaning and rocking his hips. I slowed, then eased off, and he let me go, but not without a little resistance. “Think about me tonight when you take care of that.”
He let out a puff of air and rubbed the heel of his hand over his thick tent. “You’re a damn menace.”
I grinned. “Yet here you are, all thirsty for me.”
He smiled back, looking—maybe not better, but a far cry from how he’d been an hour ago. “Seems like I am. Please get home safe.”
“I will,” I promised, taking one more step back.
He reached for me and kissed my hand one last time before finally letting go.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CREEK
Nash was a patient man, one of the qualities that had made him such a good leader. His patience could also get a little nerve-racking. Sometimes, he reminded me of a lion or some other predator, relentlessly stalking his prey until he got them. Or maybe I just felt that way because he’d given me space after Heath had brought me home when I damn well knew he wanted to talk. Yes, I had felt like prey.
So, two days later, I finally got my shit together and sat at the kitchen table while he was painting the kitchen cabinets a pretty blue. I hadn’t minded the old color, but Nash had said white was boring, and since it was his house, what did I care? Interior decorating was one item on a long list of shit I couldn’t possibly care less about.
Nash shot me a quick look, then focused on his task again. “You get some sleep?”
“Decent enough. No nightmares, so there’s that.”
He winced. “Yeah, those suck.”
“You get them?” Funny, but I couldn’t remember ever asking him that, and the thought shamed me. Had I been so focused on myself that I hadn’t even cared about others?
“Every now and then.”
“Bad ones?”
He sighed as he gave me a “cut the crap” look. “We’re not here to talk about my nightmares.”
“We could be. I’m serious, Nash. I just realized I don’t even know if you have them or not…and I’m sorry.”
His expression softened. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”
“Yeah, that’s what I keep telling myself as well. So far, it’s not really working out.”
He snorted. “I can tell.”
