“Iknowyou,” she said quietly. “Something’s happened. Something... catastrophic.”
He scrubbed a hand down his face, then hauled in a few agonized breaths. “Fuck,” he said to the night beyond the dash. “Fuck, this isnotthe time for this.”
She took it all in—his struggle to control his heaving chest, the posture cast from iron—and unclicked her seat belt. She slidacross the seat, gathered him in her arms, and pulled his head to her chest, more than a little shocked at his lack of resistance.
He choked out a ruined sound.
“It’s okay,” she murmured into the velvet bristle of his hair. What was it he’d said that first night, by the fire? “You can tell me. Whatever it is, I’ve got you.”
“Fucking hell,” he gasped, then began to weep. Mostly silently, but with such a glut of feeling that each sob drove a spear of agony into her chest. She blinked back the mist in her eyes and squeezed harder, trying to channel empathy through his skin, to infuse his every straining muscle with comfort.
After long minutes, his breathing stabilized, though the effort clearly cost him, because it took a few tries.
“What happened?” she murmured.
He sniffed wetly against her coat. “It’s... Paige.”
“Paige?” Alarm flared in her gut. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah, she’s fine. Or she will be. It’s more likeI’mall fucked-up, and it’s about her. Because I’m not sure she’s actually... That she’s... I don’t think I’m...” A dark, broken laugh splintered from his throat. “Jesus Christ, I can’t even say it.”
Aubrey’s stomach swirled. She waited.
He sucked at a racking breath, steeling himself. “...I’m not sure she’s mine. I’m not sure I’m actually her dad.”
She froze, her arms clamped tight. If there was a god, Aubrey was fairly sure she’d just been slapped across the face by him. Or her. Because that...
No.
That couldn’t be right.
That couldnotbe right, not after she’d endured a loss that had hinged around this single, unassailable truth. Paige wasNick’s.
Her stomach soured and her mind burned, but she forced her reaction to quiet. Whatever this meant to her, he must feel it a thousand times over.
“I don’t understand. That... can’t be true, can it? I mean, you were with Tansy. While I was away. Weren’t you?”
Nick unraveled from her embrace but didn’t move away. The oceanic tang of his tears joined his singed-metal smell, filling her nose with salt and smoke. Wetness gleamed on his cheeks, and god, no man had any right to look that beautiful when he cried.
Some inner directive demanded that Aubrey lay a hand against his chest. Muscle and bone juddered, his breath coming in tatters. He caught her palm and pressed it flat, sandwiching it between his heart and hand.
“It’s not... impossible.” His voice was as barren as a scorched stretch of earth. “But you won’t understand unless I tell you the details. I know you didn’t want to hear them, before. But I’ve always wanted to tell you. All the ugly pieces.”
Aubrey groped for her equilibrium and, to her surprise, found it in the thud of his heartbeat against her palm. At eighteen, she’d shut her ears against this, unable to brave the violence of her own shattering. Now, though...
“Okay,” she whispered. “Tell me.”
His eyes flooded with feeling. He tucked her hair back with his free hand, then kept it there to cup her face. “I wouldn’t have betrayed you on purpose. Not ever. I’d rather have died. You know that, right?”
“I do,” she said. Some part of her always had.
He sighed and closed his eyes. “Good. And please don’t hate me for this, but the Tansy thing happened the day you were supposed to get back from your vacation.”
Aubrey forced herself not to flinch.
“I went to your house that afternoon, looking for you.” Nick gulped. “And your dad answered the door...”
30.
