Page 83 of Freefall

Crossing into the ensuite bathroom, I turn on the shower and wait for the steam to encircle the room.

“Take your time,” I tell him. “I’ll see what I can do about fresh clothes.”

A quiet thank you is the only response before the bathroom door clicks shut. I start digging through my dresser drawers. A T-shirt is easy. Half of mine are oversized anyway, and I finally settle on one that should fit him well enough. Pants are another story. Nothing in my dresser would even remotely fit Jace, so I check the box of winter clothes in my closet that I still haven’t unpacked. I peel back the tape and fold open the flaps. There are sweaters, scarves, and my favorite pair of gloves. I smile at Daisy’s pom-pom hat that peeks out from under a cardigan, somehow having found its way into my box instead of hers.

Pushing it aside, I dig a little deeper, and that’s when I see the gray material. Worn soft with age.

Nate’s sweatpants.

He let me borrow them the morning after the Halloween party. I’d never given them back. I lift them from the box and press the fabric to my face. Time has stolen most of his scent, but his essence still clings to it. I’m not ready for the wave of nostalgia that crashes into me as I inhale, and the memories flood in.

The look on his face. The stubborn piece of hair that kept falling onto his forehead. His last words to me. After the phone call and the guest house where I’m once again cleaning up after Jace. After the nausea and the missed texts and the fight. After he stood in front of me, asking me to choose. The words echo through my head as clearly as if he’d said them yesterday.

If you had just told me where you were, I would have come.

The shower shuts off, and silence settles over the house.

My next move feels obvious, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

My hands shake as I reach for my phone on the nightstand.

And then I call him.

21

NATE

The doorbell rings for the third time in ten seconds. With a groan, I pull on a white T-shirt and sweats, grab the box I’d been packing, and head downstairs. I set it at the foot of the steps and open the door to find a woman with long brown hair and piercing blue eyes hidden behind black-framed glasses.

“Allie Montgomery,” I deadpan. “You do still exist.”

“It’s Allie Tyler now,” she corrects, brushing past me without waiting for an invitation. She’s wearing black leggings and a fitted crop top that reads “YES, BITCH.” The second word has been crossed out and replaced with the word CHEF.

She takes in my outfit. “Is she here?”

“Is who here?” I shut the door behind her.

Her icy blue eyes narrow, attempting to penetrate my soul. “Don’t play dumb with me, Caldwell.”

“How about you don’t show up at my house asking cryptic questions after ghosting me for a month,” I fire back.

Her expression immediately softens. “Shit.” She rubs the back of her neck. “That’s my bad. The restaurant’s been booked out for months, and every spare second I’ve had has been with Ash.”

“You don’t have to apologize for living your life, Al.” I shrug. “Just text me back once in a while so I don’t have to drive past your house to make sure you didn’t end up dead in a ditch.”

She chuckles at that. “That’s oddly specific.” The amusement disappears almost as fast as it started. “Speaking of stalking…I had the most interesting convo with your sister’s photographer at girls’ night.”

Fuck.

The possibility had crossed my mind when Harper said she was going to girls’ night with my sister, but I had hoped Allie wouldn’t be there. That girl can sniff out secrets from a mile away, and once she gets hold of them, she’s like a dog with a bone.

“Oh yeah?” I ask, keeping my voice as casual as possible.

“Yep.”

She steps closer, rising onto the tips of her toes just enough to search my face.

People always say that men and women can’t be friends, but Allie and I have long since proven them wrong. She may have started out as my sister’s college roommate, but now she’s like family to both of us. It’s not that I’ve never noticed how gorgeous she is, but it’s never been like that with us. Maybe it’s because she’s like another sister to me, or maybe we’re too similar. We both crave control. We both spent years pretending we didn’t need anybody. The difference is that Allie eventually got her happy ever after, and I may have blown my chance with mine.