Everything Worth Fighting For

by Street, K.

  “Thanks,” I muttered. I really was famished. “You didn’t need to do that.”

  “I know, but I wanted to.”

  His eyes met mine. The emotion I saw was too much, and I had to look away.

  An awkwardness settled in the air between us, and I needed something to do.

  “Want something to drink?” I asked, moving toward the fridge.

  “I’ll get it. Go sit down.”

  I knew he was trying to be sweet, but it didn’t sit well with me that he was ordering me around in my own space. Or that he thought he could waltz right back in after his confession yesterday and act like nothing had happened.

  “I can get my own drink, Nash.” I moved to the cabinet and took out two glasses. “I don’t need you to take care of me.” To prove my point, I opened the fridge, took out the pitcher of tea, and poured our drinks.

  When I turned around, Nash was looking at me.

  Irritation and affection collided in his eyes, and he gave the slightest shake of his head. “Don’t you ever get tired, Mace?”

  The soft-spoken question took me by surprise.

  “Tired of what?”

  “Pushing people away. Forcing yourself not to need anyone too much.” He stepped closer, and I felt my heart rate spike. “You were always tough, headstrong, and so damn stubborn, but this is different.”

  His words struck a chord.

  Because it is different. I’m not the same person.

  “Sometimes, the only person you can count on is yourself.” Unable to meet his eyes, I stared at the floor. “Besides, there are things you don’t know.”

  “Then, tell me,” he urged. “I’m standing right here.”

  “I-I can’t. Not yet.”

  “I hate that I hurt you when all I was trying to do was protect you.”

  With a finger hooked under my chin, Nash tilted my face, but I didn’t give him my eyes.

  “Look at me.”

  My gaze shifted to meet his.

  “I see you. No matter how much you try to hide.” His look grew more intense, as did his words. “I see you,” he repeated.

  The tiniest sound, barely a whimper, passed my lips.

  “And I miss you. I miss you so much, it hurts, and saying it out loud sounds so fucking ridiculous because you’re right here, but you’re untouchable.”

  There was a storm of emotion in his eyes, and his words broke me. For so long, I had been too wrapped up in my own hurt to see his.

  Nash had been my best friend, and seeing the pain so clearly etched on his face pulled at the deepest part of me. My arms moved of their own volition, snaking around Nash’s torso, and then I dropped my head to his chest and hugged him with everything I had.

  In an instant, his arms were around me, holding on tight, as though he were terrified that I’d let go before he was ready.

  We stood there in my kitchen, wordlessly embracing one another for what seemed like hours until my stomach growled.

  A soft laugh left his lips. “We should eat.”

  “Let’s take it into the living room.”

  “All right.”

  He carried the food while I grabbed our drinks, and we situated ourselves on the couch.

  I dug my plastic fork into the mashed potatoes. “Why did you lie to me?”

  Nash set his food on the end table, and he was quiet for a long time before he responded, “I didn’t want to hold you back. You had the world within your grasp. Everything you wanted was right there in front of you.”

  “Not everything,” I quietly said.

  “Things were bad back then. My mom …” His voice trailed off. “I know you had some idea, but it was so much worse than you could’ve imagined, and I never let you see it.”

  My thoughts drifted back to our formative years. We’d always hung out at my house or at Tucker’s, almost never at Nash’s place. I saw it so clearly now. All the times Nash had been late or had to cancel our plans. All the times we had been together, and he’d seemed a million miles away. How he’d pushed me away.

  Nash twisted his body so that his feet were flat on the floor. Leaning forward, he planted his forearms on his knees and stared straight ahead. “My mom was a fucking mess. She drank her way through our savings. I didn’t know the extent of how bad things were until two weeks after you left, and I found a letter from the bank that stated the house was being foreclosed.”

  “What?” I gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You really don’t get it, do you?” He looked over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. “I was trying to save you. I wanted you to have the life you deserved, and at the time, I couldn’t give you that. There was no way I was going to sit by while you threw everything away.”

  “It wasn’t your decision to make.”

  “Like I said, you were too damn stubborn to see the bigger picture.” He settled back into the couch and fixed his gaze on me, as if he were daring me to disagree. “You would have resented me.”

  “I could have gotten an education here.” I dragged the tines of my fork through the potatoes and took another bite. “All I wanted was you. I never would have resented you.”

  “Maybe not then, but you would have eventually. Anyway, I worked full-time at the garage, and after I got done there, I worked part-time at McDonald’s. I scraped together enough money to move us into a one-bedroom at Fletcher’s Trailer Park. I worked twenty-hour days just to keep our lights on and a roof over our heads.”

  My heart ached for all he’d been through. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Nash reassured me.

  I knew it wasn’t, but it didn’t stop me from hurting for him.

  “Those first few months, I picked up the phone a hundred times to call you. I stared at the screen and never dialed.”

  I blew out a breath. I wished to the depths of my soul that he had called because I needed him back then more than anything. Not wanting to think about the reasons, I asked, “How is your mom these days?”

  “Good. Last I heard, she’d met someone and gotten herself together, and they’d moved down to Pompano Beach. She visits a few times a year and calls to check in.”

  “And your dad?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He leaned his head back on the couch and rolled his neck to the side to look at me. “Why did you stay away for so long?”

  Nash’s loaded question swirled in my head.

  This is my opening.

  The chance to tell him the truth.

  He wasn’t the only one who’d lied.

  A lie by omission is still a lie.

  Time. I needed more time.

  I couldn’t give him the whole truth. Instead, I gave him a part of it. “It was too hard. I wasn’t lying when I said you broke me.”

  “I’m so fucking sorry, Mace.”

  “I know. I’m just telling you my truth.” I wanted to shove the words back in my mouth.

  “I was trying to love you the best way I knew how, and at the time, that meant letting you go.”

  I realized that now, but it didn’t mean it hurt any less.

  “I know.” I pointed to his food container. “You should eat. It’s getting cold.”

  We ate, and when we finished, Nash threw away our trash and returned to the living room.

  He sat closer to me and extended his arm. “Come here.”

  Without a second thought, I stretched to close the space separating us and leaned into him, my head on his chest.

  Nash dropped a kiss to the top of my crown and reached for the remote on the arm of the couch. Then, he turned on the television.

  Several minutes passed, and my eyes began to drift closed.

  “Mace?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You’re falling asleep. Do you want me to go?”

  It had been a long time since anyone held me, and Nash wasn’t just anyone. Being in his arms felt goo
d. His scent comforted me. The sound of his heart beating beneath my ear brought me a sense of peace. We needed this—to spend time together, so we could start to heal.

  I didn’t even have to consider his question. “No. Stay.”

  I shifted so that I was lying in Nash’s lap.

  His hand went to my hair, and he started lightly running his fingers through it. The tender gesture felt amazing, and in no time at all, I succumbed to sleep.

  10

  Nash

  I continued to run my fingers through Macy’s hair long after she fell asleep. With each glide through her fiery strands, the smell of her shampoo would hit my nose. A scent that reminded me of the beach, like coconut and sunshine. I hadn’t been able to touch her like this in so long, and my hands on her felt too damn good.

  There wasn’t a time I could remember when I was not in love with Macy Caldwell. I could pinpoint the day I had known I wanted to marry her. I closed my eyes and let the memory pull me back in time.

  We had gone fishing down at the creek. I sat next to her on the dock, grabbed her fishing pole, and started to bait her hook.

  She folded her arms over her chest. “Nash Masters, what do you think you’re doin’?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing, Macy Caldwell?” I used her whole name, just like she had mine.

  “It looks like you’re baitin’ my hook,” she huffed.

  I knew she was annoyed because her face was turning almost as red as her hair, and she was leaving the G off the end of her words.

  “Your perception is astounding,” I retorted, feeling proud that I’d used one of my vocabulary words from last week. Sometimes, I did things just to get a rise out of her.

  She stood, put one hand on her hip, and used the other to point a finger at me. “You know darn well I’ve been puttin’ a worm on my own hook since we were six. I don’t need some stinkin’ boy to do it for me.”

  I got to my feet. “Well, here.” I shoved the pole at her. “Excuse me for being nice.”

  She took the pole from me. “You’re excused.”

  “You know what, Macy?” I grabbed my fishing pole off the ground.

  “What?”

  With a few steps to the side and a flick of my wrist, I cast my line into the water. “I’m going to marry you one day.”

  “Oh, yeah?” She flung her own line out. In a sassy tone, she said, “Not if I marry you first.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

  We had shared a childhood of memories, but I wanted a lifetime. Then again, just one lifetime spent loving Macy would never be enough. There were so many things I wanted to tell her. Like how I wished every single fucking day that I could turn back the clock. Fix what I had broken. Since there was no way that was going to happen, the most I could hope for was that she’d forgive the actions of the boy I used to be and fall in love with the man I’d become.

  11

  Macy

  I was kicking myself for calling into work on Monday. The adage about hindsight being twenty-twenty had never been truer. Here it was, late Thursday afternoon, and I was still trying to play catch-up.

  From somewhere beneath the papers and file folders that littered the top of my desk, my cell phone vibrated. I sifted through the mess and caught it mid-shimmy as it worked its way across the wooden surface. There was no fighting the smile that graced my lips when I saw who was calling.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Are you busy tomorrow night?” Nash’s gravelly voice came through the line.

  Monday night, I had fallen asleep with my head in his lap. The next morning, I had woken up alone in my bed with no memory of how I had gotten there. Since then, we both had been swamped with work, and aside from a few text messages with delayed responses, we hadn’t been able to connect until now.

  “Why?”

  “I want to take you out.”

  My stomach did a little flip. “I can check my calendar and get back to you.”

  “Check it now. I’ll wait.”

  He couldn’t see the grin on my face, but it was there.

  The only thing on the agenda for tomorrow night was a date with Ben & Jerry. The boys and I planned to curl up on the sofa for a little Netflix movie marathon.

  “Okay,” I said, shuffling papers around. “Looks like I’m free.”

  “Good. I’ll pick you up at seven thirty.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  He knew I hated surprises.

  “Cute. Where are we going?”

  “Just dress casual.”

  “How casual are we talking?” I doubted he would tell me anything, but it didn’t stop me from trying.

  “Wear sneakers. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mace.”

  “Bye, Nash.”

  * * *

  Butterflies stretched their wings in my belly, fluttering rapidly. The only thing that kept me from tugging on my bottom lip was the lip gloss that covered it. As I checked my appearance in the bathroom mirror for the tenth time, I heard a knock.

  “Coming,” I yelled, heading into the living room.

  With the inhale of a calming breath, I opened the door.

  Nash stood on the other side, dressed in a green V-neck T-shirt a few shades darker than his irises, a pair of jeans, and sneakers. My fingernails itched to scratch along the five-o’clock shadow that peppered his jaw.

  His eyes moved in a slow perusal down my body and then back up to my face. He leaned in to kiss my cheek. “You look beautiful.”

  I had changed three times before finally settling on a flowy top with thin spaghetti straps, denim shorts, and a pair of Chucks.

  “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  “Ready to have some fun?”

  “Sure.” I grabbed my purse and then locked up behind me.

  Once we were in the car and pulling out of the driveway, I turned to Nash. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

  “Nope, but you’ll love it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I know you. Trust me. I promise you’ll have a good time.”

  “All right, I’ll trust you, but just know that, if it’s a bust, you’re going to have to take a sushi-making class with me.”

  His laughter filled the car. “Since when do you like sushi?”

  “That’s beside the point.” I shrugged.

  For the next twenty-five minutes or so, we talked about nothing and everything.

  When we arrived at our destination, my heart was filled with that warm, fuzzy feeling, and a sense of nostalgia washed over me.

  I turned to Nash and smiled with my whole face.

  “I told you to trust me,” he said with a smirk as we drove into the grassy lot of the Jaxson County Fairgrounds.

  Guided by a middle-aged man with a beer belly and a glowing orange safety baton, we parked the car and got out.

  Nash kept a hand on the small of my back as we weaved between rows of cars and moved toward the midway. The smell of deep-fried sweetness permeated the air, and carnival music blared from speakers attached to the tops of poles.

  Our first official date had been to the carnival, and we had gotten stuck at the top of the Ferris wheel. I had been scared, and to take my mind off it, Nash had kissed me and kept kissing me until we started moving again. The memory made my smile grow wider.

  I took it all in. “This is amazing.”

  “I thought you might like it.”

  He took out his wallet as we approached the ticket booth. “Two wristbands, please,” he addressed the woman inside the stall.

  “Fifty dollars.” A cigarette hung in the corner of her mouth, bouncing as she talked.

  Nash slid the money into the opening at the bottom of the plexiglass, and she passed him two purple paper strips.

  “What do you want to do first?” His fingers grazed the inside of my wrist, sending a chill over my too-hot skin, as he placed the band on my arm
.

  I was lost in the gentleness of his touch.

  “Mace?”

  “Hmm?” I met his gaze.

  He released my arm and held out his own. “I asked what you wanted to do first.”

  “You pick.” I affixed the band to his wrist and shoved the two small, glossy tabs that had covered the adhesive into my pocket.

  We walked side by side through the crowd until Nash stopped in front of a tall, twisty steel roller coaster. His hand returned to the small of my back as he guided me into the short line.

  “These things always make me nervous,” I confessed.

  “Really?”

  “I mean, think about it.” I gestured to the monstrosity before us. “It’s a traveling carnival ride. They put it up and tear it down so many times; you have to wonder if there is a missing bolt or two. How do the workers know they got them all? And, if one is missing, are they just nonchalant about it?”

  His lips tipped into a smile. “You’re ridiculous, and you think too much.”

  The attendant directed us into the cart at the very front. Nash folded himself inside and then offered his hand to me. Once all the riders were settled in and secured, the ride began.

  The chain hill clicked and clanked as we ascended to the top of the track. The building anticipation in my gut only reconfirmed that experiencing an adrenaline rush by possibly plummeting to your death wasn’t an ideal way to go.

  “How are you doing over there?”

  “I’m not sure,” I yelled over the noise.

  We were suspended in time during those few seconds the ride paused at the top. My heart rate quickened, and my palms began to sweat.

  Nash reached for me, interlocking our fingers. “Sometimes, you have to trust in the fall.”

  He raised our joined hands into the air just as we dropped into the first loop.

  A rush of wind slapped me in the face. Laughter and screams mingled with the mechanical sounds of the track. My belly dipped with each descent. Nash tightly held me to his side and never let go until the ride came to a stop.