The key turning in the lock immediately heightens my blood pressure because it’s Nash returning. Clearing my head only brought me a tiny ounce of transparency. If there weren’t the factor of being a widow, then without a doubt I would explore the magnetic friction that Nash and I have.
If I look back through the years, I shouldn’t have been so blind. We had a loosened knot that only needed to be retightened. Loyalty was in the way, and now there is a ghost between us, and this dynamic is new to me.
I glance up when I hear the door close, and Nash slowly walks my way with hesitation, yet his piercing eyes are still far too powerful.
“I was wondering if I needed to send out a search dog or something.” I smile nervously.
“Nah, just wanted to give you space and figured you would be in good company with a bottle of white.” He indicates with his head to the bottle on the living room table.
“Seemed only fitting. Want a glass?”
“I’ll grab a beer.” He disappears into the kitchen, and after the sound of the fridge closing, I hear the snap of the bottle cap. Nash is quick to return with a bottle, and he swaggers his way to the couch to sit down on the opposite end of the sofa, a solid no-man’s land between us.
I thrum my fingers on my thigh. “Uhm, you can put on the sports channel or something. I know pre-season games are over and the season is starting.”
He smiles to himself. “Very honorable of you, but Iwanted to ask… is it better if I stay at the Dizzy Duck? I know my brother wanted me to stay here to ensure you’re okay, but I might be making this worse for you.”
“No,” I raise my voice, then calm. “I mean, it’s fine. I don’t want you to go. It’s good for Bo, and I’m not sure…” I avoid meeting his eyes, and I stare at my bare ring finger. “I don’t think staying at the Dizzy Duck would matter. You’re still in Lake Spark. Still close enough to do damage.”
“Damage. Great.” His tone is edged.
My hand rockets up to relax his thoughts, and I scooch over on the couch to bring up my legs and bare feet to cross and half face him. “No, I mean… It’s just, I would still be a hot mess of feelings, so might as well get a baby-oatmeal maker out of the deal.”
Relief hits him. “Okay then.”
“As… well, as long as it’s okay for you. It’s not just me having issues here, right?”
His jaw juts out as if he’s wondering where I’m going with this. “Is that so?” He’s messing with me. Or is he? “Maybe when I first got back, but it’s becoming too obvious what to do. I can handle that… I’ve accepted that.”
He slides over a little, and our space is closing even more. Heat rises under my skin, and my face must appear flushed. “Summer, I’m not going to feel guilty. I’ve come to the conclusion that maybe my way of mourning is to be near you. To bewithyou.”
My eyes dip low, and I see my charm necklace hanging and floating in the air, and I use it to divert us. “It seems the Nix brothers have a thing for giving me jewelry. A ring and a necklace.” Because it was really Nash, wasn’t it?
“I’m angry he was the one who gave the necklace to you, if that’s any consolation.”
My skin burns from the contrast of thoughts due to that admission. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
Because I might agree.
Our eyes linger again, the air nearly suffocating. Nash’s finger bolts out and hooks under my chin to draw my attention to him, with his fortitude written all over his face. “There’s something I’ve wanted to do since I’ve been back.”
The room is beginning to spin as every ounce of anticipation inside me surges, and I attempt to keep it down. “I don’t think I want to know,” I rasp.
Nash leans in. “And I don’t care.”
My chest panics that he is going to try and kiss me, but his lips bypass my mouth and do something much worse. They brush along the scar above my eyebrow. My entire body melts when Nash gently kisses it.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs against my skin.
I’m not sure how to breathe anymore, as the room seems to be fading around us. “Nash.”
“I did this to you… and I’m the selfish guy who not only thinks you're beautiful but who is slightly satisfied that every day you are reminded of me.”
As twisted as it sounds, the possessiveness that he has ignites something inside of me. His hands stay firmly planted to hold my head when he withdraws slightly.
“Every time I look in the mirror, there is no escape from you,” I confess in a whisper.
He follows the path of his fingers as he lifts a part of my hair, then he places it behind my shoulder. “You’re allowed to let your walls down if that’s what you need.”
