“You belong with me,” Nolan says firmly.
I swallow against the sudden lump in my throat. “I know.”
“Enough talking now,” Nolan says as he closes his eyes and snuggles back against me. “Hold me as I sleep away all the bad thoughts. You always make them go away.”
“Alright, angel.”
Nolan sighs happily at the nickname, and in moments, he’s back asleep in my embrace, and I feel beyond sure that I hold my entire universe on this small cedar-scented bed in Clay Springs.
Nolanand I spent two days in bed. I left him alone for the length of a solitary run, only to come back to try to ply him with food. I’ve always found joy in cooking, but cooking for Nolan brings me a sort of peace that’s hard to explain. Maybe it’s because making food for him is the easiest way for me to pour my love into him without frightening him away. Other times, all he wanted was to be held, for me to talk to him, and I was more than happy to comply. Finally, on the third day, he woke up, took a shower, and grabbed his guitar before fleeing to the living room. It felt like some huge weight fell off my shoulders just at the sight of him out of the bed.
And, of course over the two days, my friends dropped care baskets off at the door. My favorite was the basket from Harper, which was full of freshly baked muffins in a bunch of different flavors and a book full of crude jokes that Nolan still refuses to let me read. I think Jackson and I are in a load of trouble when it comes to Nolan and Harper, because some of the few times I’ve seen something resembling a smile is when Nolan is seemingly texting with Harper.
“You’re doing that thing,” Nolan says from the passenger seat. I glance over at him to find his eyebrows furrowed, lips tugged down in a thoughtful frown. “You’re thinking very hard about something.”
“Thinking about you.”
Nolan huffs a small laugh. “About how much you wish you could get rid of me.”
I almost veer off the road. What the hell? “No, Nolan, I never think that.”
Nolan just hums and leans back harder in the seat. When he angles his head away from me, I can clearly see the hard bob of his throat as he swallows. There’s something he’s not telling me, something he’s not asking me, but I don’t know what. Mind reading has never been my strongest ability, that’s more Trevor’s style. His therapy session today was long, and he’d returned to me a little more mellow than normal. But I know how that goes.
“Nolan, do you need me to say it? I’ll say it. I’ll say it first, I don’t care.”
His head pings toward me so fast I’m afraid he’s given himself whiplash. Tears line his eyes, and he looks so fucking raw that my heart cracks wide open. Not like the day on the balcony, but maybe the days before, when he was so haunted by something he didn’t know how to tell me.
The county road leading to Clay Springs spans in front of us, empty and desolate, so I do the only thing I can do. I pull over onto the side of the road. A farmhouse dots the horizon, and a few horses roam free, suddenly paying attention to the vehicle on the side of the road. Nolan’s frozen, eyes wide, as I hop out of the car to come over to his side.
But suddenly, all I care about is making sure, without a doubt, that Nolan knows how I feel.
Ripping the car door open, I grab his hands in mine and dip my head until he’s forced to meet my gaze.
“What happened in therapy today?”
Nolan’s jaw tightens, and he shakes his head. “Benji…”
“Talk to me.”
He sighs softly as I hold his gaze. “Nothing, I just… I feel like I’m hurting you. I feel like… I don’t know, Benji. I don’t want to be like your mom.”
“You’re nothing like my mom,” I say, hoping desperately to reassure him. All he does is roll his eyes. “I love my mom so much, and her depression and her struggles are a part of her. Ican’t pick or choose parts of people to love. And… and…” I take a deep breath and puff out my cheeks because really, on the side of the road after a therapy session is when I tell fucking Nolan Hastings that I’d burn the world down for him. “I love every single part of you. Okay? Okay. Don’t say it back. I don’t want to hear it yet. Not until you want to say it, but I needed you to know. So you don’t… don’t question things anymore. Just, I fucking love you. Every part. Every version. Okay?”
Nolan’s jaw clenches hard for one long moment, before he releases a sound that’s a mix between a cry and some sort of sigh of relief. He wraps his thin arms around my shoulders and tugs me in until my cheek is squished against the warm material of his hoodie. The hoodie that smells like me and him. Like us.
“I’m a piece of shit,” Nolan says with a shaky voice.
“Don’t say that about the man I love.”
“I’m scared about when the real world comes back,” Nolan admits into my hair, voice wrecked and terrified. “When… when the label makes me make a decision. When people find out I’m here. I don’t want to leave the bubble. I don’t want people to know I’m fucked up.”
My heart cracks in half at the shake in his voice, the fear making his body tremble. I tighten my arms around him and try to meld our bodies together so I can make him feel safe, even just for a moment.
“We’ll tackle it together when we need to. You’re not alone anymore. And Chris will do anything for you.”
Nolan’s ribs expand with a large sigh. “I have to talk to Chris… I’ve been ignoring his calls.”
“Don’t do that.”
