“No, before then.” My other hand comes up to wipe more tears from her other cheek. I’m happy when I no longer see them against her soft skin. “Waking uphurt. The lights. The noise. The way my body felt. No, the darkness went away in soft waves. A quiet voice. A gentle touch. Until it was gone. And I was alive.”
“Oh my God, Nicky,” Bea chokes, dropping her head onto my chest.
“I don’t want to make you upset by telling you this.” I hold her, kissing her temples, rubbing my fingers into the dip of her neck to try and chase away her pain. “I want you to know because, dealing with everything now, it’s kind of like how it felt then.”
Bea lifts her head. I dip mine so our foreheads touch, brushing my lips against hers. She pushes back, and I like that we’re both a little desperate for the connection. But I need to finish what I started, so I begrudgingly pull back.
“Moving forward, playing again…it’s going to come in waves. Sometimes, the tide will be easy, and others, I’m going to need help getting to shore. But I’m going to swim,solnyshka, and I’ll let everyone see me.”
CHAPTER 21
BEA
Nicky opens the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. He looks at it and puts it back, exchanging it for a sports drink from the same shelf. Unsatisfied, he puts it back, too.
“Nervous?” I ask from my perch on a barstool. I lift my tea to my lips, hiding my smile. Nicky tries to pin me with a glare over his shoulder as he continues a fruitless search, but it’s half-formed because I’m right. I take a long pull of my breakfast tea, the full flavor accented with a hint of sugar sweetness and creamy milk, then wrap my hands around the mug when I set it on the counter in front of me. “Nicky, talk to me.”
He turns from the now-closed fridge, putting his hands flat on the counter. His arms spread wide, the full expanse of his reach nearly touching each side of the island. Nicky leans, the structure taking more than his physical weight when his shoulders round almost protectively.
“I don’t know what to say to Robbie.”
I rise from the stool and slip under one of his arms. I wrap my arms around his waist and settle against his side, a space I’ve occupied frequently. Maybe one day I won’t be so eager to hear the steady pulse of Nicky’s heart, or feel the gentle thump against me, but that day isn’t today. A lot of our life post-injury has found its rhythm again, but I don’t think I can ever take moments like this for granted.
“I didn’t know Robbie was coming?” I ask. I knew that some of the strength and conditioning staff were visiting today to start building recovery plans for Nicky. I’ve watched him work himself over with nerves all morning. It’s been hard not to step in and manage it like I want to. But we’re no longer in crisis mode, and I need to let him do this on his own.
The addition of Robbie’s presence explains a lot about Nicky’s behavior. He was the first to reach Nicky on the ice and start chest compressions. Rode with him to the hospital and stayed until I was able to come the next day. The two have exchanged texts, but I haven’t pried about their contents. I run my hand up and down his side in a comforting way.
“How do you thank someone for saving your life?” Nicky asks the otherwise-empty kitchen. I squeeze him, pushing my reassurance into the gesture, trying to let him know that I’m here.
It’s been two days since Nicky’s first appointment with Adam Knowles, and I can already notice a change in him. There are fewer moments of that haunted look, when he disappears into himself, wrestling with life before and after. Nicky has shared his overall impressions of his therapist and told me he feels the sessions will be helpful, but since it isn’t my journey, I haven’t asked anything too deep. I trust that Nicky will tell me what he wants, when he wants to.
He called Trinity yesterday morning to give his permission for the crew to resume their filming, but under the sameguidelines as before: they could only be at the house when Natalia was at school, and the same parameters for questions were in place. Added to the list is the stipulation that he won’t discuss the accident in any detail until he is ready. Ava also let me decide whether I was willing to be on camera, and after thinking about it, I decided I was fine with it. I have nothing to hide. The film crew is tagging along today, and I’m sure it’s an added layer of stress.
“Hmmm.” I consider Nicky’s question. “I don’t know Robbie very well, although we certainly spoke a lot while you were in the hospital. I thanked him the day after you were admitted.”
Nicky’s arm drops from the counter, snaking around me.
“What did he say?” Nicky looks down at me.
“You really want to know?” I check. Nicky gives me a nod of approval.
“He told me he needed to keep you alive so he could get your reaction time up.” My eyebrows scrunch, uncertain if the dark humor will land. I don’t need to worry. A beat of silence is followed by a bark of laughter so loud from Nicky, I jump in his embrace. My reaction sets off a second round, Nicky’s other arm looping around me, and I join in the laughter.
Tears begin leaking from the corners of my eyes, the joy and lightness feel so good after weeks of darkness and uncertainty. Nicky’s boisterous chuckles become giggly tumbles as the humor fades. He holds me tighter, turning us until my back hits the counter and his head falls to my shoulder. My own laughter dissolves, concern once again flaring as he rests there.
“Are you tired again? I can?—”
The press of his lips to the side of my neck abruptly cuts off all thought. My breath shudders even as I’m surrounded by Nicky’s comforting woodsy and whiskey scent. It clings to the ends of his hair that’s starting to grow out, the strands soft under my fingers when they fly up to touch him. I’m not sure if I wantto pull him closer or push him away, but my body makes the decision with the next sucking kiss along the column of exposed skin.
“Bozhe moy.” I sigh, tangling my hand deeper into his hair. It isn’t that Nicky and I haven’t been close lately. We’ve shared kisses, cuddles, and wake up in each other’s arms every morning. It’s the kind of intimacy that speaks of stability, but it lacks the impulsive heat that comes withothertypes of intimacy. I’ve tried to curb my craving for it, but I am currently losing that battle as Nicky’s lips travel toward mine.
“No God here,solnyshka.” Nicky’s husky tone ripples through me, up and down my spine. It’s dark enough to promise something I’m not sure I can have, and playful enough that I want to try for it. His large hands roam freely up my sides, crawling under my breasts. His ascent over their curves to be cupped has my nipples pebbling under my cotton bra almost painfully when they sense the heat of his touch.
Nicky lifts his head, blue eyes blotted out by black pupils, fixed on the motion my tongue takes as it skates over my dry lips. Everything else melts away, the world narrowing to the charged desire between us. I arch my back, pressing us even closer, and Nicky cages my body in when his hands land on the counter on either side of me.
The doorbell rings, breaking the spell.
Our world crashes in on us. I drop my head against Nicky’s sternum, a dry laugh twisting into a frustrated groan as I bring my hands down to push gently against him. Immediately, he gives me space by taking a step back. I move toward the front door, but only manage a few steps before Nicky’s fingers curl around my wrist. He turns me around, cradling my cheek with his other hand, then angles my face up.
