For the most part.
There’s a moment when he adjusts the angle of a stretch—his chest pressed against my back, his cheek grazing mine, his touch gentle yet firm—and something electric moves between us. He doesn’t acknowledge it, but my breath catches anyway.
Then my phone buzzes on the bench.
I glance over and grimace when I see Trish’s name.
This can’t be good. I haven’t talked to her since she stole my job.
My stomach knots. One swipe opens the message.
Hey. I’m leaving next week for tour. Can’t afford to float the place solo so I found someone to sublet. I need you to get your stuff before I go or I’ll have to sell it or something
Sorry
Everything inside me stills. The floor of my stomach falls out.
My entire life—my clothes, my dance gear, my journals, the chipped Holiday Coffee & Cake mug Violet and Simon gave me right before I moved—gone. Or close enough to it.
“Do I even want to ask?” Nash asks.
I shake my head slowly, my throat tightening. “That’s officially the last time I check my phone while I’m at your house.”
Nash straightens, brows knitting. “What happened?”
I consider brushing it off, telling him it’s nothing and I’m fine and letting that be that. I’ve emotionally detonated more than enough in front of this man. But, for some reason, the truth comes out.
“My roommate is leaving for tour and is subletting the apartment. If I don’t come get my stuff, she’s selling it. Oh. And the reason she’s leaving for this particular tour? She’s the one who took my spot. It should be me going. Not her.”
The words hit even harder out loud. I press my palm to my forehead like that might stop the pressure building inside. Just when I think I’m about to cry, I start laughing.
“I don’t have the money for a flight,” I say through a giggle. “I can’t drive. I don’t even know where I’m going to live, so I don’t know where toputmy stuff if I manage to get it. And… and I just…” I start laughing again, because I couldn’t make something up like this if I tried. “Like, really. What have I done to deserve this? I’d like to say I can’t take anymore,” I add, voice breathy, “but God has surely used up all his gut punches at this point so I’m not sure it matters.”
“You are kind of a mess,” Nash says gently, lips twitching.
“Kind of?” I glance up, blinking fast. “I thought I’d get to come home, wave my contract in Dad’s face, and prove I wasn’t a total screw-up. Now I might have to askhim to store my things. Or worse, move back in. Because I literally have nowhere else to go.”
That last part comes out like a whisper. Like a confession I hadn’t intended to make.
The laughter dies.
Nash sits beside me on the mat, his presence steady and warm.
“I know you hate feeling helpless, but this is the first time I’ve actually seen you look it,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Lucy. I see how heavy your load is.”
I stare into those storm-gray eyes and he holds my gaze unflinchingly. “Most people look away when things get messy,” I say and he smiles softly. “You look closer.”
“I’m at my best in the mess. Kind of a prerequisite for the emergency room.”
“Even Stella opted to go out for drinks when I told her I lost the tour rather than sit with my discomfort. I don’t know if I’ve ever had someone do what you do.”
“Not even your parents?”
“Definitely not my parents. Dad always thinks he's helping but he cuts me down so hard in the process it doesn't feel like help. When I left for LA, he made it exceptionally clear that he expected me to fail. There was no support. No cheering me on. He just said when I hit rock bottom, my room would still be waiting but there’d be terms we’d have to agree on for me to use it. Like he had no faith in me at all. I really hate that I’m proving him right.”
Nash leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. “I’m sorry you’ve spent so long feeling like you have to prove your worth and earn love.”
His eyes meet mine and it’s like he’s seeing into my soul, looking right at the little girl who simply wanted her daddy to love her and telling herit’s okay.It’s too much. Too real. Too vulnerable, so I retreat toward safer ground.
