“Think about it,” Nash says, arms crossed, definitely putting distance between us. “Let me know. It makes a lot of logistical sense, you being here, what with rehab and all. My schedule’s tricky and you won’t have to rely on Stella for rides.”
I bob my head. “Yup. Logistical perfection,” I say and immediately regret because who says something like that? “I’ll definitely think about it.”
Nash nods and that’s that. We finish the rehab session without talking about it again, Nash once again seeming to know exactly what I need.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Lucy
Stella’s waiting for me when I limp down Nash’s front steps, my crutches click-clacking against the concrete, while a thousand variations of ‘what the heck just happened’ spiral through my mind.
Did Nash Kincaid really just offer me a place to stay like some kind of white knight in a romantic comedy? And did I really say I’d think about it like that’s a totally normal thing for a near stranger to offer? But what was I supposed to say? No, thanks, I’d rather keep sleeping on a couch and making my friend drive me to your house every other day at weird, random hours because you work like a maniac? Trish is welcome to sell my stuff, you know, since I’m broke and have no ability to replace it all?
Me taking Nash’s spare roomdoesmake logistical sense.
It just doesn’t make any other kind of sense.
The passenger door of Stella’s ancient hatchback is already open, cool air blasting from the vents and something sugary wafting from a bag in the cupholder.
“Get in, gimpy. I brought donuts.”
“My hero.”
She helps me fold into the seat, maneuvering my crutches into the back with the same care she reserves for library books and bottles of wine. Her hair’s twisted into a haphazard bun and her smile is wide as she drops the bag of baked goodness into my lap.
“Don’t get too excited,” Stella says, pulling away from the curb. “They’re from the gas station. I just thought, given what you’re about to step into with your parents, you might need a little sweetness beforehand.”
“What I’m about to step into… What I just stepped out of…” I grab the bag and give her the wide-eyed, you’re-not-ready-for-this look. “Donuts were the right call.”
Stella peers over her sunglasses. “Do I need to turn around and have a serious conversation with Nash Kincaid?”
I take a bite, shaking my head while I chew slowly. “Already had one.”
I fill her in on the text from Trish and Nash’s subsequent offer to let me use his spare room. “For my stuff… and for me.”
My stomach twists as I wait for Stella’s response, and she does not let me down.
Her brow rises in shock.
Her lips part.
Disbelief settles into her dark eyes.
“He offered you his guest room? What kind of creepy, romance hero stalker vibe is he going for? I mean, what’s the play here? Trap you in his house, win you over with chivalry, then seduce you with grumpy glares and perfect hair?”
I scoff. “Now see, that’s what I wondered when he offered to help rehab my ankle in the first place and you seemed to think that maybe he was just a nice guy. I think the words you used were ‘uncommonly generous.’”
“Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking.” Stella tosses her glossy, black hair with a laugh. “The world’s a dark place, Lu. Selflessness doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Says the woman who let me sleep on her couch for a week, driving me all over Stillwater Bay like she doesn’t have a life of her own…”
“That’s not selflessness. That’s obligation.” Stella makes an exaggerated face. “Come on. Get with the program.”
“Right. What was I thinking?”
“Clearly you weren’t.”
“Clearly.”
