“You had a pretty rough night yesterday,” Nash replies, his breath warm against my ear. “If I were you, I wouldn’t want to be alone.”
I hate to be alone, I’m glad he is here. But I’m not ready to just give in, so what comes out of my mouth is, “I’m absolutely capable of being alone.”
Nash hums into my hair before he murmurs, “Then be alone with me becauseIdon’t want to be alone after that. I can’t get the image of him dragging you out of that bar out of my head and what would have happened if we hadn’t been there.”
I swallow hard, my eyes misting up. Reaching down to put my hand over his bruised knuckles, I whisper, “I… thank you for being there.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” he whispers back, his lips pressing a soft kiss on the top of my head. “You have to let me hold you. Help me sleep by being in my arms so I know you’re safe.”
“Okay,” I whisper and feel a warm tear roll down my cheek as I nuzzle closer to him, letting his presence and comfort wash over me.
He buries his face in my neck.
Perfect fucking fit.
And finally, the world goes quiet.
EIGHTEEN
The insideof the van is still dim, the fairy lights dancing on the ceiling and the faintest hint of dawn creeping in through a split in the curtains. It’s warm and cozy under the covers, and I can feel the weight of a heavy arm draped over my hip. A contented sigh escapes my lips as I breathe in deeply, realizing that Nash is still beside me.
He stayed.
Turning in his arms, I find him still fast asleep, his mouth slightly open. He looks so young like this, his disheveled hair adding to his boyish charm. I can’t help but notice again how much he resembles Hunter when I look closer. I bet their features would mirror each other if Hunter shaved the bushy beard covering half his face.
For a moment, I contemplate staying right here, wrapped up in this warmth.
Warm, safe, and not alone.
But my bladder informs me that my plan will not work out, and I reluctantly decide to get up. I carefully extract myself from Nash’s arms, trying not to wake him. He stirs but settles back to sleep, snoring slightly, making me chuckle.
I quietly grab some clothes, running gear, and my toilet bag, making sure not to make a sound when I slide open the door. Slipping out of the van, I walk to the restaurant, grateful for the minute of silence to catch my breath and sort out my thoughts.
He came because he didn’t want me to be alone.
He thought I was struggling, so he came to hold me.
He stayed the night, holding me the whole time.
And before all that, he punched one of his friends for trying to hurt me.
Even if I still want to deny it, I can’t.
He cares about me.
I don’t know to what extent or with what goal, but Nash Jones would not have been there,justholding me while sleeping in a shitty, cold van with an uncomfortable mattress, if he didn’t give a shit about me.
But what do I do with that information?
I decide to put a pin in it and go for a run. It would clear my head, and maybe I would be able to find a solution afterward.
It’s too early for such important thoughts.
As I leave the restaurant and walk back to the van, I jump, halting when I see a tall silhouette in front of the sliding door.
Did Adam come after all?
I’m about to turn and run back to the restaurant when a deep voice comes from the man who steps out of the shadows. “Blue.”
