A flutter of nerves ran through her. “Um, yes, sure.”
Every step toward her house felt both heavy and light. Her mind raced with what-ifs, but beneath it all, there was a pulse of hope she hadn’t let herself feel in years.
Could she really let someone in? Could she trust that Nick and this connection were real and steady enough to hold on to?
She shook off a flicker of doubt and tried to steady her breathing. Maybe it was foolish. Maybe it was dangerous. But for the first time since everything had happened, she wanted to risk it.
“So...” Nick said as they reached the porch. “About that coffee.”
Gina’s heart stuttered. Last night in the hallway, wrapped in his arms while the others slept, she’d told him to ask her out properly when they got back to town. She hadn’t actually expected him to do it immediately.
“Coffee?”
“You said to ask you out. Coffee or dinner or something.” He shifted his weight, and she realized he was nervous. Nick, who’d faced down a grizzly and a murderous criminal without flinching, was nervous about asking her on a date. “So, I’m asking. Tomorrow night, if you’re not too exhausted from police interviews.”
The practical answer was obvious.Yes. Of course, yes.But standing on her porch in the bright sunshine, back in the real world where her carefully controlled life was waiting, all her old fears came rushing back.
“Nick, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
His face fell, but he didn’t step back. “Why not?”
“Because last night we were still in survival mode. Everything felt intense because we’d just escaped death. But now we’re home and reality is setting in and—” She gestured helplessly. “What if this was just adrenaline? What if we’re making a mistake?”
“Is that what you think this is?”
“I don’t know what to think. Two days ago, I didn’t know you existed. Now I’m supposed to believe we have something real?”
Nick was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was steady, but she could hear the hurt underneath. “I thought we settled this last night. I thought you meant it when you said you wanted to see if this was real.”
“I did mean it. I do. But standing here now, looking at my house and my life and everything I’ve built to keep myselfsafe...” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m terrified, Nick. What if you leave? What if you decide Irma is too small or I’m too complicated or you meet someone who isn’t carrying around all this baggage?”
“What if I don’t?” He moved closer, not touching her but close enough that she could feel his warmth. “What if I’m exactly who I showed you I was? What if I stay and build something here and prove to you every single day that you can count on me?”
“You can’t promise that.”
“You’re right. I can’t promise I won’t mess up or that everything will be perfect. But I can promise I’ll show up. I can promise that when things get hard, I won’t run.”
His hand lifted, hovering near her face, waiting for permission. “Gina, I’ve been running for a year. Couch to couch, town to town, convincing myself I was keeping my options open when really I was just too scared to commit to anything because commitment meant risk.”
She let him cup her cheek, felt herself lean into the touch despite her fear.
“Then I met you,” he continued. “And for the first time in a year, I wanted to stop running. I wanted to stay somewhere. Build something. Risk something.” His thumb brushed her cheekbone. “You’re not the only one who’s terrified. But I think maybe that means it’s worth it.”
“What if it’s not enough?” Her voice came out small. “What if I need you and you leave anyway?”
“Then you survive it. Because you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.” His other hand found her waist. “But I’m not going to leave. I’m going to stay in Irma and start a remodeling business. I’m going to find an actual apartment instead of living out of my SUV and bothering Brooke. And I’m going to take you on the most normal, boring date you’ve ever been on so you can see that this isn’t just crisis-induced intensity.”
Despite everything, Gina felt a smile tug at her lips. “Boring?”
“Painfully boring. The greasiest greasy spoon. Maybe a movie. I’ll tell you about my day, and you’ll tell me about yours, and we’ll discover whether we can stand each other when nobody’s trying to kill us.”
“That does sound boring.”
“Good boring or bad boring?”
She studied his face, this man who’d crashed into her life and turned everything upside down in less than forty-eight hours. She could say no. Could protect herself. Could go back to her safe, controlled, lonely life.
Or she could choose bravery.
