by Lexi Ryan
Chapter Nineteen
August—Five Days Before Accident
The delicious smells of bacon, cinnamon, and pastry dough wake me.
I roll over and stretch, my body spent in that most delicious way, my muscles singing with happiness. If a weekend in bed doing everything but making love makes me feel this good, how good would I feel if Nate would sleep with me?
I don’t want to go back to New Hope. I want to stay here in LA in Nate’s big-ass house, where life seems less like this ominous dark cloud waiting to be confronted and more like when I played pretend as a kid.
I climb out of bed and head to the bathroom, where I wash my face, brush my teeth, and try to calm the worst of my bed-head. After throwing on a robe, I head down to the kitchen.
Nate stands bare-chested and beautiful behind the island, the muscles in his forearms flexing as his competent hands chop apples and peaches and throw them into a bowl. Behind him, bacon sizzles on the stove, the smell incredible.
My stomach rumbles.
“Looks like you’re cooking for an army this morning.”
He looks up, noticing me for the first time since I entered the kitchen. His eyes light with his smile. He wipes his hands on a towel and skirts around the island to pull me into his arms and kiss me soundly. When he breaks the kiss and steps back, I have to grab the edge of the counter to keep my balance.
If only this were real life.
“What are you doing with all this food?” I survey the pan of rolls cooling on the counter next to some sort of casserole that looks like it has more cheese than I’ve let myself eat in months.
“I’m feeding my girl.”
My cheeks flush. I’m embarrassed that he thinks I require so much for breakfast. Downside of being a big girl. “I just need some coffee and maybe a little of that fruit salad.”
He raises a brow. “What you need is a keeper. How much weight have you lost since we met three months ago?”
Thirty-eight and a half pounds. Add that to the ten I managed to drop the five months prior and I’m almost down fifty pounds. But I know Nate won’t like my answer, so I avoid the question and cross to the coffee pot to pour myself a steaming mugful. The creamer sits next to the pot, and I look at it for a minute, tempted. Empty calories.
When I turn around, he’s right in front of me.
“Hanna,” he whispers, tilting my chin up so I’m looking him in the eye. “I’m worried about you.”
“I needed to lose some weight. Trust me, I’m not going to waste away.”
“You didn’t need to lose an ounce.” He is worried. I can see it in his eyes. “Did he do this to you? Did he make you feel this way?”
No need to say who he is. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Fuck, Hanna. What did this loser do to you?”
“He’s not a loser!” I shut my mouth and study my coffee. Max is off-limits, and Nate usually respects that.
“So you haven’t given him an answer yet.”
I gasp, horrified that it’s not obvious. “I wouldn’t be here if I had.”
Nate gives a sad sort of half-smile and backs up a step. “Yeah, but you see, that assumes you’re going to take him back. If you’d answered and told him no, there’d be nothing wrong with being here with me.”
He goes back to his breakfast preparations, the silence snapping between us with so many things unsaid.
When breakfast is done, Nate serves both of us. I know I won’t eat much of the calorie-laden breakfast—doing so would make me sick at this point—but I don’t argue when he fills my plate.
We sit at the glass table in the sunroom, the slow morning rain tapping on the glass. I wish for clear skies and sunshine to warm my skin through the glass. I close my eyes for a minute, imagining it, the hope it normally makes me feel.
“I’m sorry, Hanna,” Nate says, and when I open my eyes, he’s watching me. “I know you love Max. I just…” His jaw works as he shifts his gaze to something beyond the glass. The bird bathing itself in the garden? Maybe something that can’t be seen.
“What do you want me to do?” My voice breaks on the question. I really want him to answer because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I’m putting us all through this painful holding pattern until I can get my mind straight. I’m just waiting, assuming the answer will come to me. Or am I really waiting for Nate to offer me more than he has?
His fork clatters against his plate and he shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m not asking anything from you. I’m not him.”
I close my eyes. It’s not fair to want a declaration of love from this man. He was upfront with me from the beginning. He’s not about the relationship, not about the forever.
Pushing back from the table, I stand up and head out to the patio. I stand under the awning and watch the rain dance on the water in the pool.
“It’s not you.” The sound of Nate’s voice sends a tremor of sadness through me. Because he’s never asked anything from me, but part of me wants him to. “You know that, right?” He stands next to me, head tilted back, eyes on the sky. “I can’t offer you more than this. Even when you deserve more. It’s not because I don’t want it. It’s because I made a promise to myself. To my son.”
Turning, I run my fingers across the date tattooed above his left pec. He told me the significance of that date the first night we met. It’s his son’s birthday. The day he says his world changed. “I never asked you for more, Nate.”
He grabs my fingers and squeezes them in his. “But you deserve it.”
“I’m a big girl. Let me decide what I deserve.”
“You deserve everything. Anything you could want.” His grip is nearly painful on my fingers, but I don’t pull away. I’m too worried he’ll stop talking. “But I’m not the man to give that to you. I can’t.”
You won’t, I think.
His eyes scan the dark and angry sky. “My dad left my mom when Janelle and I were eight. It always sucks for kids when their parents split, but he moved out of our house and into Jayda’s. She was already pregnant with his baby, and I remember when my stepsister was born. You should have seen my dad’s eyes when he looked at her. Like she was the most precious thing he’d ever been given. Then Jayda had a second child, and a third. He was so damn happy with them. For a while, he did his visitation with Janelle and me. We’d go over there on the weekends and every other holiday. But it was so painfully obvious that we were the other kids, the other family. We were an inconvenience. We were the mistake he had to deal with now that he’d finally found his real life.”
I understand how it feels when your parent lets you down, and my heart aches for him. “I’m so sorry.”
“By the time Collin was born, my relationship with his mother was already over. We were young, and we’d never been serious, but the first time I held him in my arms, his eyes locked on mine and I knew I couldn’t do to him what my father had done to me and Elle. I promised myself he would be my family. Even if his mom and I weren’t together. It didn’t matter. I promised I would never make him feel like he was second best.”
“You’re a great dad, Nate. You’d never make him feel like that.”
“It’s hard enough to be a kid to celebrity parents. I won’t pile that on too.” His hair falls into his face as he drops his head. “Collin is the most important thing in my life. I can’t give you more without taking something from him. I won’t do that.”
“I wish you’d quit making it seem like I’m asking for that.” My voice breaks because we both know I want more than this. Need more. A home. A life. Babies.
“What happens if we don’t end this, Hanna? You can’t be my mistress for the rest of my life. You can’t keep flying out here when I snap my fingers.” His face twists in disgust, and he steps away from me and into the rain. “Every time I say goodbye, I tell myself that’s it. That I’ll end it. Because you deserve that. But I’m weak and selfish as shit and keep calling you back because I can’t get enough of you.”
He tilts his head to the sky and closes his eyes, letting the rain shower down on his face. I study the ridges of his strong back expanding as he breathes in and out.
I step into the rain and press my lips to the damp skin of his bare shoulder.
When he speaks, his question is so quietly murmured I can barely make it out over the rain in my ears. “Are you still in love with him?”
It’s my turn to tense. “I am.” I latch on to the best of my bravery and whisper, “But I’m in love with you too.”
“Don’t say that.”
I back away. Slowly at first and then fast. Then I’m turning and running. Back into the house, up the stairs.
I crawl under the covers still in my rain-dampened robe and curl into a ball on my side.
When I hear him pad into the room, I don’t roll over to look at him. When I feel the bed shift under his weight, I don’t open my eyes. And when his arms wrap around me from behind and he pulls me to his chest, I don’t say a word.
“I was in such an ugly, dark place the night we met. I looked into your eyes, and you were right there with me—my angel in the darkness. You saved me.” He buries his nose in my hair and inhales audibly. “You saved me and I love you.”
I draw in a gulp of air, but it enters my lungs with a sharp, painful edge.
“I think I’ve been in love with you since the night we met. And I know that sounds crazy and implausible—like one of those things the guy says when he’s trying to win the girl—but for me, it’s just true. I love you and I’m terrified that you’re going to ruin your life because of it.” His arms tighten around me and he presses a kiss to my shoulder. “I’m not telling you to take his ring. I honestly believe that if he were worthy of you, you wouldn’t be here with me. But don’t let me be the reason you don’t take the life you want.”
“What if you’re the life I want?”
His arms tighten around me and he presses his lips to my shoulder. “You’re asking me for something I can’t give.”
