Everything that had happened seemed like a lifetime ago, and those emotions paled in comparison to the bright, all-consuming feelings I had for him now. Even though I didn’t think we needed to dissect the past, maybe Nathan wasn’t wrong. As kids, we didn’t have the emotional intelligence to wade through the muck of our lives, of what our parents did to us, of what we, in turn, did to each other. Now we could deal with it once and for all and move forward.
“What did Kathy mean about your diagnosis? Are you sick?”
“Not sick,” I said quickly, unable to tolerate the way Nathan’s body tensed against mine. “I struggled… after everything. I couldn’t move on, and no one understood, you know? I thought it would get better when I moved away. I was in college. I was supposed to be having the time of my life. I thought something was wrong with me.”
Needing to feel closer, I wrapped my fluffy-cotton-covered foot around his ankle.
“I got a bad grade, and I nearly cried in class. I made it back to my dorm before sobbing, feeling worthless and alone and weak. Other people brushed things off, but I never could. It wasn’t new, but… I don’t know. Maybe I thought I’d outgrow it? Anyway, I called your dad.”
Nathan’s eyebrows rose. “My dad?”
“Yeah, I… I had no one else. It helped to talk to him about how I was feeling about school… and you. He recommended I see a therapist. Offered to pay for it.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah.” I snuck in a bite of pizza. “My therapist told me I’m a Highly Sensitive Person. HSP for short. It’s a trait. She told me there wasn’t anything wrong with me. I experience the world differently, and I wasn’t the only one. It helped to know there were other people like me.”
I took a staggering breath. “It used to make me feel weak, but I’m trying to see it as a superpower, feeling more deeply than other people do.”
Nathan pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “I never saw you as weak, Bren.”
My laugh was watery. “Even if I cried when we lost? There’s no crying in baseball, remember?”
“It showed you cared. I love that about you.”
Nathan had protected me from ridicule, heading it off before anyone could think that mocking the lone girl on the team for being emotional was a good idea. I loved that abouthim.
He reached for my hand. “You choose to see the best in everyone, even when they don’t deserve it. You’re there for people when they need someone, even if they won’t admit it. To listen to their problems. Bren, you went to physical therapy with me twice a week the summer I hurt my shoulder, then did myphysical therapy exercises with me to make sure they got done. There were a million other things you could’ve been doing, but you chose to be there for me.”
I averted my gaze. “Well, that was because I loved you.”
Nathan guided my face back to him until we breathed the same air. “I felt it every day. When we stopped being friends, I could see you still loved me. It endured, even after I hurt you.”
“Trust me, I know.” I turned away to give myself a moment to gather my thoughts. Nathan’s attention—his recognition of who I was at my core andneverthinking it meant anything other than that I was strong—overwhelmed me.
“I’ve never known someone as loyal as you, Quinn. Remember how small I was when you moved to Middlebury? How I had trouble pronouncing my Rs? You held it against every kid who laughed at me.For years.”
I shrugged. “Of course I did. You would do the same.”
“And when Coach pulled me from a playoff game sophomore year?”
“You were pitching well,” I contended. “The outfielders lollygagging after pop flies wasn’t your fault. You deserved the opportunity.”
He laughed. “I always pitched well, according to you.”
I nudged him in the arm. “Because youdid.”
“Not always. But I loved that you thought so, that you always had my back.” Nathan tugged me into his lap, my legs resting horizontally against his thighs, his chin on my shoulder. “So tell me more about being an HSP.”
I looked at him. “You want to know?”
“I want to knowyou.”
“Okay.” I swallowed hard, taking a moment to gain control of my emotions. “Well, I need time to decompress when I go through emotionally draining experiences, even when it’s good things. I usually do that by lying under my weighted blanket ina quiet room. Loud sounds can be a lot for me to handle, unless they’remysounds. Explains how I love rock music but can’t stand when the TV volume jumps during commercials.”
“Oh, this explains a lot,” Nathan murmured. “Molly’s crying.”
“Yup. It’s why I had to escape to your house so often. Oh, and I can’t stand strong smells, like meat cooking.” I shivered. “I usually need to light a candle or open a window to get through it.”
