Seeing her things so disrespected was a body blow. Chet sank to his knees and started to sob. He couldn’t seem to stop. He was shaking all over and his breath felt like it was being ripped from his lungs. This wasn’t a healing cry. This was hysteria. It had happened a couple of times before. The last time, Reuben had had to hold him until the sobbing subsided, but Reuben was hundreds of miles away.
Nick.
Chet didn’t stop to think if it was advisable. He didn’t take the time to worry if he’d regret it later. He just ran to his car and drove the few miles to Nick’s house, hoping he hadn’t left since their conversation two hours before. If the house had been any farther, he might not have made it. Driving even that short distance hadn’t really been safe.
By the time he pounded on the door, he was still shaking, and tears were still falling, though with less frequency. Nick opened the door and his expression went from pleased to scared in a blink.
“Chet?”
“I’m sorry,” Chet gasped out. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
25
Nick took a shower, then started planning out what he’d have for dinner. A glance through the fridge said his options were limited until he did a grocery run, so he was thinking he’d probably have to dine out again. He decided to get a little paperwork done, since he’d need to take off early the day his liquor cabinet was being delivered. He’d been annoyed at the shipping delays at first, but ultimately he’d been too busy to take off before now, so it worked out okay.
He was making a grocery list when there was a knock at the door. He frowned, since he had an ornate and obvious doorbell button, not to mention he wasn’t expecting anyone. Still, it was an urgent enough sounding knock that he immediately headed for the front door. A check through the peephole showed Chet on the other side and Nick quickly opened the door.
Chet had obviously been crying and was in a bad state. He seemed to be shivering and his breath was coming in weird little hiccups and gasps. Nick waved off his apology and ushered him inside.
“What’s happened?” Nick asked.
Chet shook his head. He opened his mouth like he was going to speak, but shook his head again.
“What can I do? What do you need?” Nick grabbed Chet by the shoulders and gently rubbed them in what he hoped was a soothing way.
"Can you just... can you just hold me?" Chet asked, his wet lashes showing off the green of his eyes.
Nick was a bit surprised, but he tried not to show it. Instead he just nodded and opened his arms. Chet rushed into them, not even uncrossing his own arms. Nick didn't mind. He knew it was a defensive posture because Chet felt vulnerable. He didn't take it personally, he just held on, squeezing without letting his hands pet so much as to be considered caressing. He didn't want to do anything that might be construed as taking advantage of the situation.
After a moment or two, Chet finally relaxed his posture and even slid his arms out and around Nick's waist. Chet’s shaking was finally starting to slow down, though it hadn’t yet stopped altogether. Nick tucked him closer, which had the unfortunate effect of bringing Chet's hair close to Nick's nose. He smelled good. Like high end shampoo and fresh air and just a hint of something else Nick couldn't pinpoint. He wanted to bury his nose in Chet's blond locks and inhale deeply, but he resisted.
"Do you wanna maybe sit on the couch for this?" Nick asked softly.
Chet nodded and they each stepped out of the embrace. When Nick led them from the front door to the couch, he took a seat and patted the cushion next to him, but Chet didn't sit. Instead he stared at the spot for a moment before locking eyes with Nick. It was obvious that tears were threatening again.
"Could we, maybe, um...." Chet sighed, closing his eyes.
When he did so, it loosed a single tear down one of his cheeks and Nick longed to wipe it away. Instead, he sat stock still, waiting until Chet was ready to speak again. Whatever he wanted to ask was obviously even bigger than asking to be held, and Nick didn't want to spook him in any way.
"Could we lie down?" Chet looked mortified, but also desperate, as if he hated asking but knew he had to, in order to get what he most needed.
"Of course, Chet, whatever you need." Nick turned in the seat, kicking off his shoes and stretching out on the large sofa. "You wanna lie on top of me or have me spoon you or how do you wanna do this?"
Chet's face crumpled. "How are you being so calm about this?"
"What is there to not be calm about? You're my friend and you're in pain and you need my help."
"But all I've done is push you away," Chet whispered. "And now I'm begging you to hold me like some-some—"
"There was no begging. You asked. I agreed. And I am inferring no romantic or sexual connotation from the request. As I said, you're a friend in pain and I can help." Nick reached out a hand. "Let me help."
Chet finally nodded, then said, "Spoon, please," in a soft voice.
They both maneuvered into position and Nick held him tightly up against his chest. Chet started to cry in earnest, not bothering to try and hold himself back. Nick took that as a good sign. There'd be time for talking about it later, but now was not that time. Now was the time for comfort and catharsis via tears. He let Chet cry it out, stroking his hair gently and murmuring nonsense phrases meant to soothe.
Finally, after what seemed like a long time, Chet's crying started to wind down to hiccups. At long last, his breathing evened out and soon it was obvious to Nick that Chet had fallen asleep. Pulling the throw from the back of the sofa, Nick draped it over them as best he could and settled in for a nap as comfortably as he could, right alongside Chet.
When he woke up sometime later, he noticed three things: it was full dark out; he had a hellacious crick in his neck; Chet was gone.
26
Chet woke up in Nick's arms and panicked. He gingerly extricated himself from Nick's hold and got off the couch, then put his shoes back on and rushed out the door. Once in his car, he hastily started the engine and drove off, thankful that his car had a relatively quiet motor. He pulled out of the driveway and drove down Nick's road, heedless of whether he was going the right direction to get back to the farm.
He got about three miles before he calmed down enough to realize he shouldn't have left. He'd been spinning out when he arrived and Nick had welcomed him with open arms. He'd held Chet easily, as if Chet hadn't been shoving him away as hard as he could since he got back to Rubyville—especially since the bonfire. Nick had no reason to continue to be kind to Chet, yet Nick hadn't been anything but kind, this whole time.
Chet realized he needed to do some soul-searching. Because Nick had been the asshole in high school, but he wasn't the asshole now. Was Chet?
Chet forced himself to think about high school again, but more objectively this time. More clinically. He considered how many books and other media spoke about how difficult a time the high school experience was. Clearly he wasn't the only one who'd struggled. Had Nick, even as a popular jock, also struggled?
He suddenly realized he didn't really know what Nick's life had been like then. Sure, Nick's parents seemed supportive now, but had they always been? How old was Nick when his parents split up? Chet had lost his mother too young, but he had no idea what it was like to go through a parental divorce.
Maybe he hadn't been cutting Nick enough slack—and had been cutting himself too much. Weren't there people he'd been unnecessarily shitty toward in high school too? He was pretty sure he could come up with at least a few people without even trying that hard. Suddenly, he realized he'd been playing the victim all this time when he hadn't needed to. He had been victimized, that much was definitely true. But that didn't mean he could keep using that as an excuse to avoid getting close to Nick.
He had seen the evidence that Nick wasn't the same person anymore. Why was he still holding him at arm's length? Because of things Nick had done when he was a scared, confused kid?
Squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath, Chet
turned the car around.
He felt some lingering embarrassment at showing up and asking Nick to hold him, but Nick hadn’t seemed to judge him for it. Chet had needed it and it had helped, so he did his best to ignore the feelings of humiliation and shame that wanted to well up. He told himself it was all right to ask for help. Hadn’t his therapist just told him to get some physical affection to help his mental health? She’d also told him to see where things went with Nick.
When he pulled back into the driveway, Chet could see that the living room light was now on. Nick was awake. That was good and bad. Chet wouldn’t have to wake him, but Nick would also probably be annoyed at the very least. He parked the car and got out, surprised to see the front door open and Nick lean against the frame.
“I saw the headlights,” Nick said as Chet got close enough to hear him. “I’m glad you came back. You wanna go grocery shopping with me?”
If Chet had had a thousand guesses, he probably would not have picked that question to be what Nick asked him when he came back. He was so surprised he couldn’t even answer, only blink mutely at Nick.
“I need to go shopping. We should probably talk, but I’m not sure you’re in a fit state for a deep heart to heart in my living room. So, a trip to the grocery store together seems like our best bet.”
“Oh. Okay. Yeah. That sounds… good.” It sounded weird, but Chet thought Nick might have a point about his ability to have a private heart to heart. in the space where they’d just spooned.
“We’ll take my car.”
Chet wasn’t going to argue with that. He shouldn’t have driven over here the first time and now he thought he was still too out of it to be safe. He dutifully followed Nick to his vehicle and slid into the passenger seat when the lock popped.
He thought they might start their important talk on the way to the store, but Nick kept the conversation on mundane things. He asked how the farm was doing and how Chet was settling in with the employees. He talked about a funny client at work. In short, he gave Chet space to feel normal again and Chet felt a surge of gratitude. The drive went quickly and before Chet knew it, they were pulling into the grocery parking lot.
Once inside, however, they were barely down the first aisle with the cart before Nick brought up what had happened. He was picking out cereal, squatting down to reach a box on the bottom shelf and he wasn’t looking at Chet, so his blunt question came as somewhat of a surprise.
“So how did you go from collecting items for charity to crying on my doorstep?”
Chet was so taken aback he didn’t even hesitate in his response. “He threw all my mom’s things from her sewing room into a closet. I don’t mean he just packed it away. I mean literally threw it, like he was tossing broken drywall into a construction dumpster.” His breath hitched and he took a second to get himself back under control. “He didn’t even bother to pack the boxes properly.”
Nick touched his elbow and pointed down the aisle, his face sympathetic without being pitying. They walked down the row and Nick grabbed another couple of things before moving on to the next aisle. As soon as he started selecting his coffee, he asked another question.
“I can’t imagine losing my mom. It must still be hard for you.”
“It is and it isn’t. She wasn’t perfect, and that’s something I’ve had to work through with my therapist, but she was the light to Walker’s darkness. And when I lost her....” Chet sighed. “It was really hard. And I still miss her. I hate not getting to show her all that I’ve accomplished and take her all the cool places I’ve gotten to see.”
This time, Nick merely started pushing the cart and Chet dutifully followed along, while Nick picked items off the shelves.
“Seeing her things disrespected like that must have been tough,” Nick said after a moment.
Chet nodded, even though he wasn’t sure Nick was looking at him. “It was already a blow when I first moved in, seeing that her sewing room had been turned into his office. That room was like a sanctuary for me growing up, especially after she died. I honestly just assumed he’d sold it or thrown it away.” Chet blew out a breath and picked up a jar at random before setting it back down. “That was easier, somehow. Thinking it had already happened out of sight.”
“But seeing him treat it like it didn’t matter was a lot worse than thinking he’d throw it away?” Nick asked, breaking the pattern for the first time of moving to a new aisle before continuing the conversation.
“Yeah. I guess, when I thought everything was just gone, I could kid myself that he’d gotten rid of them because he couldn’t bear looking at them. Instead, I got visual proof that he just didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself.”
Chet didn’t say more and Nick started moving the cart again. Chet was lost in his thoughts, trying to remember the sewing room as it had been and not as the pile of junk it had looked like in the closet. They worked their way down a couple of aisles before Nick asked anything else.
“All right, so talk me through how crying over your mom’s things got you to my front porch. No judgement implied at all. I’m glad you reached out. I am just very surprised.”
So that was how Chet found himself explaining his last phone call with his therapist in the middle of a grocery store on a Sunday night. He left out major plot points, such as “see where it goes with Nick,” but he did hit most of the highlights, about touch starvation and his lack of recent affection. He even explained that he had had these uncontrollable crying jags a few times previously.
“I was hysterical and scared. It was instinct more than anything,” Chet said as he wound his story to a close. “And when I woke up and had a clearer head to think about what I’d done, I panicked. Obviously.” He hesitated, then added, “Thank you, Nick. I can’t tell you how much it means that I reached out and you didn’t think twice. I know it was a strange ask and a big one.”
“I consider you a friend, Chet. And I may not know you very well, but it’s well enough to know you don’t ask for help lightly. I don’t think I could have responded any other way.”
Chet said nothing, too overwhelmed by all the emotions the day had unleashed to speak the gratitude he felt. Nick changed the topic to lighter subjects until they were done shopping. Back at the car, Nick invited him to dinner, but Chet declined.
“I know we still have more to talk about, given everything that happened at the bonfire, but I really don’t think I am up to it tonight. I’m exhausted. I can’t thank you enough for... well, everything today. It means a lot. I do still want to have dinner. Tomorrow?” Chet asked.
Nick hesitated. “I actually have dinner plans tomorrow,” he said as he started the car. “But if you’re up to meeting a couple of new people, I’d love for you to come along. They’re old friends and I doubt they’ll mind. I think getting out and being social would probably be good for you, given everything your therapist said. What do you say?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose,” Chet hedged.
“Here, I’ll text them right now to ask if it’s cool.” Nick proceeded to pull out his phone and do just that. When it buzzed with a response, he showed Chet the screen, with its enthusiastic approval from someone named Rhett plainly visible.
Chet slowly nodded. “Okay then. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night. Pick me up?” Chet asked. “That way, maybe we can have that talk on the way home.”
“Sounds good,” Nick said with a genuine smile.
Chet wished he could lie to himself about the little flutter in his stomach that smile caused. Was he already in trouble where Nick was concerned? The question plagued him all the way home and long into the night.
27
It was Monday night, so the crowd was thin at the restaurant, but it wasn’t dead. Nick asked for a table in the corner, as was his custom, and the waiter was happy enough to oblige. Chet was even more reserved than usual, and in fact seemed nervous. Nick’s whispered, “Are you okay?” was met with a nod and a tense smile. Chet seemed to relax a bit after int
roductions were made, but not much.
“So what do you do, Chet?” Liam asked after their drinks arrived.
“Ha, well, ordinarily, I’m an image consultant in Nashville, but at the moment, I seem to be a farmer,” Chet said, taking a long slug of his bourbon on the rocks.
“How the heck did that happen?” Rhett asked.
“My dad left me everything in his will, with the stipulation that I had to run the farm for a year in order to inherit.” Chet raised his hands. “So here I am, a farmer.”
Trying to forestall any condolences, which he knew Chet would not welcome, Nick said, “Yeah, Chet hadn’t seen Walker in fifteen years, so the inheritance kind of came as a shock.”
Liam smiled and held up his hands. “I won’t pry. Sounds like a difficult situation.”
“Yeah, it seems like dads are either the best or the worst and there’s no real in between,” Rhett said.
“Especially when you’re not straight,” Chet agreed.
“Well, tell me about farming,” Liam said. “I grew up in a farm town, but my mom did office work, mainly, and she wouldn’t let me do any hay baling like most of the guys did, so I don’t know much about it. You like it?”
“Well, my part in it mostly is office work,” Chet said with a laugh. “At least so far.”
Chet and Liam started talking about livestock and crop rotation and Rhett and Nick drifting into their own discussion about the old days. Nick still hadn’t heard the story of how the two of them got together, but he hoped he would before the night was out. Rhett had been so hung up on Liam in college, but Liam had been fairly oblivious.
Home to Stay (Southern Boys Book 2) Page 11
