“The next couple days are going to be long shifts for me. You feel okay running your exercises by yourself?”
Lucy nods. “I think I can manage.”
“Nothing new. Nothing we haven’t already done together. Stop the moment something feels wrong.”
With a quiet laugh, she gives me a sassy little salute. “Aye Cap’n.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Lucy
Four days have passed and it’s like Nash and I never kissed at all. Though, by the time I wake up, he’s usually already left for the hospital, so it’s not like we’ve had a lot of time together. He leaves a note on the coffee pot each morning, reminding me to be careful while working my ankle in the gym, and to have a nice day. The first night, I went to bed before he even got home. The next two, he was so exhausted I made him sit on the couch while I cooked him something to eat. Last night, we watched TV together while he massaged my ankle.
Today will be the first real time we’ve spent together since it happened, and my plan is to just roll with the whole friendly roommate thing. He was right about calling for a pause after we kissed, though it kills me to admit it. The way he decidedfor methat I was in toofragile a state? Yeah. Not cool. It felt way too much like my dad dictating how and why I should live.
Hewasright though, which is why I dropped it.
My life is too complicated.
Nash is too complicated. It’s all just… complicated.
With all that in mind, he asked for a pause and I’ll give it to him. It’s been easy so far because this morning, four boxes arrived from Los Angeles with my name on them.
Four.
That is all my life equates to. Two boxes of clothes. A box of random kitchen and living room items. And a box of stuff from my bedroom—pictures, journals, memorabilia.
Part of me whispers that’s a little sad, but really, I’m just thrilled to have more than a week’s worth of clothes. Pre-injury Lucy thought she was packing for a visit, not… whatever this has become. I lean into the closet to hang up the rest of my shirts when something catches my eye.
Is that a guitar?
It’s not in a case, just leaning against the back wall like it forgot it ever mattered to someone. The wood is smooth, slightly dulled with time. One string has snapped and curled in on itself like a dried-up question mark.
I lean forward, pressing my palm to the doorframe for balance. The closet’s just deep enough that I can reach it without crutching my way inside.
It’s heavier than I expect. Dusty and cool. A little scuffed at the edges, like it saw some life before beingabandoned here.
I turn just as Nash walks past the room, a mug in one hand, phone in the other. He pauses, backpedals, brow raised.
“I swear I thought that thing was in the garage.”
“You play?”
“Used to.” He shrugs, then leans against the doorframe, looking unfairly handsome and totally at ease.
I trail my fingers over the strings, giving my attention to the instrument rather than the man. “Looks like it’s been a while.”
“Yeah.” Nash takes a sip of coffee, eyes locked on mine over the rim. “It started feeling like a waste of time, so I stopped.”
I blink. “A waste?”
He nods, nonchalant as ever. “It didn’t serve a purpose. Didn’t help me sleep. Didn’t help patients. Didn’t help my marriage. Didn’t make money. Just… took up space. And time.”
Woah. Marriage? Talk about dropping an info bomb.
And that’s another reason the kiss was a mistake. You barely know this man.
“You were married?”
