Page 20 of The Perfect Heart

I knew because of that closet full of actual designer clothing back in LA, and this wasn’t it. But I wasn’t about to tell her that.

“What you choose to spend your money on is your business. What I choose to spend my money on is mine.” It was a dangerous response, but I didn’t think anything I said would get me on Nicole’s good side.

Her smirk disappeared, replaced by a sneer, like she smelled something she didn’t like.

“Just so you know, Nash likes women who dress better. But it doesn’t matter because you’re going to stay away from him, right? Because Nash and I have something going on.”

The words hit their target just as Nicole had intended because ice blossomed in the center of my chest that had nothing to do with the cold. But I didn’t feel like giving the woman the satisfaction of knowing she’d affected me.

Plus, how did she know what Nash liked and didn’t like? I was his best friend, the one who knew him better than anyone else.

Had been his best friend. Times had changed, and so had he. Maybe he did like women who could afford to look more stylish.

“Okay, well, thanks for telling me. Enjoy your day.” I gave her a hollow smile before I turned my back on her and walked into the thrift store, head held high.

But I could barely focus as I looked through the racks of clothes. The cold stab from Nicole’s words had become disappointment that branched out to become a tight spot in my chest and throat.

Nash had said there was nothing between him and Nicole except a few dates and a few nights together. But that could have easily changed. I wasn’t his best friend anymore, wasn’t the one to whom he told absolutely everything. I didn’t have a claim over him, as apparently Nicole did.

But the disappointment wouldn’t go away, especially after the odd tension between us the other night. Maybe I’d been the only one to feel it. Maybe he’d simply been comforting me. Whatever had happened, it was obvious I had made far more of it than I should have.

It was for the best, anyway. There was no way I could jump into something right after the failure of my marriage, especially after what had happened. Look where jumping into something head-first without thinking had landed me.

No, I had to be careful with my next relationship. If I ever even had one, which I wasn’t sure I wanted at this point. Why risk falling into that toxic trap again? It wasn’t like I could trust my judgment about men.

I sighed, letting my head hang for a minute, the scent of old clothing surrounding me. The day had suddenly become gray despite the sun still shining through the store’s windows.

I had come home expecting everything to be the same, but I had been just as stupid about that as in LA. I had come looking for home but had only found out that I was the outsider now, and everything had changed around me.

Had it been the right decision to come back? Maybe I should have gone somewhere else, gotten a fresh start where no one knew me.

The question dogged me as I trudged home with the few things I had found, so lost in my own thoughts that, at first, I didn’t feel the prickle on my back until it was too insistent. I whipped around, searching the shadows and snowbanks for an extra set of tracks, snow crunching under feet. But I didn’t hear or see anything. It still felt like eyes on the back of my neck, though, the hair standing on end.

A bird started from a bush with a loud chirp, and I nearly screamed, laughing to myself with anything but humor. I was way too paranoid, and it was starting to affect me even during the daytime. I’d have to stop looking over my shoulder at some point.

Right?

My trip home was a lot faster than my walk out, and as I slid the dresser back across the door, I tried to banish the feeling that someone had been watching me.

I couldn’t help the shiver that ran down my spine, though.

Chapter 10

Nash

HALLE HAD BEEN AVOIDING me for days, and I wasn’t sure why. At first, I thought I was imagining things. The bar had been busy all week, which kept us all running from the beginning of the shift to closing.

But when I asked Halle if she wanted to do dinner again, she declined, saying she was tired. An invitation to hang out at the local arcade like we used to when we were in high school was similarly turned down. When I had tried to talk to her during lulls in the day, she would find an excuse to escape: Napkins had to be restocked, something had spilled, and she needed to mop it up before more customers came in, we were out of something, and the cook was sending her to the store to get it.

I didn’t get it, but I couldn’t deny it anymore—Halle was avoiding me. And I had no idea why.

Had I pushed her too far about her relationship the other night? Was she upset at me? Did she think I would only ask more questions if we had a conversation?

Or maybe our moment the other night had scared her off. I hadn’t been sure she had felt the way I did, felt that electricity pulsing between us, buzzing just under her skin as I had. In a way, I still couldn’t get her out of my head—or out from under my skin.

But if she was avoiding me, surely that meant she had felt it, too? Was this a bad sign that whatever had happened had scared her off? Was that why she wasn’t talking to me?

Whatever it was, it left me confused, and I had no idea what to do about it.