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All I do is ruin things.
No more being selfish.
I put my phone facedown and close my eyes as another wave of hunger rolls through me.
When it passes, I take a long pull from the bottle of whiskey I’d stashed under my bed. It burns like hell, cheap and just short of toxic. I welcome it.
I’m drunk enough for my fingertips to feel disconnected. When I touch them together, it feels… strange. Wrong. I wonder how many fingertips touched Carter. Touched Nolan. How many fingertips hurt them. My fingertips are useless. My fingertips couldn’t save them. Too little, too late.
I throw up in the toilet. I wash my mouth out with the last of the whiskey and stumble to bed.
I manage to sleep just long enough for Carter to appear in my dreams, soaked in blood and yelling, “Your fault, your fault, your fault!”
I wake up to sheets soaked in blood and whiskey-bile.
I think maybe I cry.
I’m on my way back from the laundry room when the inevitable happens—I come face-to-face with Nolan.
Maybe Nolan can see it all in my eyes. The exhaustion. Pain. Devastation. Self-hatred. Desperation. The need to hurt and hurt and hurt until I can breathe again. Maybe that’s why he stops short instead of passing me with a smile like he usually would—our thing only exists at night, after all. Sometimes early in the mornings if we catch each other alone. Not in the hall with me on my way back from dumping my soiled sheets into the washer. Not in the hall with Matt by his side giving me a wary look.
But he stops this time.
He reaches out, fingertips brushing the bare skin of my forearm. He says, softly, “Maison.”
My throat clicks with how painful it is to swallow, suddenly full of all of the emotions I’ve been fighting like hell to suppress. I part my lips, meaning to say something, anything, but nothing is enough. I just shut my eyes and turn my face away, hiding.
“I’ll see you later,” I hear Nolan say, the words not meant for me. A moment passes before I feel his fingers slide into the openings between my own. His palm is impossibly soft and warm pressed against mine. I squeeze it without meaning to. I turn my gaze to him, wanting to apologize for the instinctual reaction, but he squeezes me back before I can.
He’s either suddenly very blurry or I have tears welling up in my eyes.
“I was going to prep the stuff for dinner.” He gives me a smile that makes that feeling in my throat ease a little. “Come help?”
I’m pretty sure I’d go just about anywhere he asked right now.
“I won’t be good,” I warn, ignoring the slight rasp of my voice. “I’ll probably ruin it. I ruin everything.”
“Not this time,” he says, giving my hand another squeeze. His smile hasn’t fallen. “I’m not going to let you ruin anything this time.”
Chapter Twelve
Nolan
I assign Maison easy tasks in the kitchen, determined to give him a chance to not ruin things. It was pretty damn clear what he had meant with that comment about ruining things, but if he wants to pretend he was talking about cooking then that’s a game I’m willing to play. I have him trim the fat off the thawed chicken breasts while I get the ingredients for a marinade started. He finishes before me, so I assign him to the task of making us a pot of coffee.
“You don’t trust me with the other ingredients, do you?” he teases, hiking himself up onto the counter once the coffee is brewing. His legs sway like he’s a little kid, a smile dancing on his lips that matches the playfulness, but his eyes are still drowning in emotion. He’s acting for me. Putting up a front so I don’t worry. It breaks my fucking heart.
How do I fix you, Maison? How do I help? Let me in.
I remind myself that the last time I tried to push things further, he told me to leave him alone and then all but vanished for two days, not even appearing for our nights by the fire. I don’t want to risk that happening again now that I have him back.
“I trust you.” I shoot him a wink, trying to match his attempt at playfulness. “In fact, I’m actually saving the hardest part for you.”
“What’s the hardest part?”
“The garlic. You’re going to mince it.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”
