Page 85 of Something Like That

She raced into the front hallway. There was a corkboard with flyers pinned to it hanging next to the door, and it had a row of hooks lining the bottom for keys.

Her and Em’s keys were hanging there, along with the keys to the clinic. And there, on the end, was a single key and key fob, one she didn’t recognize.

Changing her slippers for slip on shoes, she grabbed the key and headed outside again. When she got to the end of the walkway, she pushed the unlock button on the fob. Halfway down the block, the lights flashed on a dark SUV.

She hurried over to it. Up close, she realized it was dark grey and brand new. As in, this year’s model. She slipped into the driver’s seat. Nick’s spicy scent surrounded her. She swallowed back a sob.

The interior was beautiful, all sleek lines and leather seats. It was honestly the nicest thing anyone had ever given her. And he did it because he knew she needed a new car and he was afraid something was going to happen to her and Em in her old one.

Something splashed on her hand. She looked down. It was a tear. She was crying, the tears sliding down her cheeks and dripping off her chin. Nick’s card was still clutched in her hand. It was still light enough outside that she could read it again. Which didn’t help, because by the time she got to the end, she was sobbing.

How on earth could he think he didn’t deserve people being nice to him, just for the sake of being nice? Had no one ever just done something for him without expecting something in return? Did he really think he didn’t deserve kindness? Caring? Love?

Oh, God, oh, no. She tilted her head back against the head rest. He’d offered her his heart. When he’d asked if she only considered them friends, he was offering her his heart and she’d stomped on it.

She’d been so afraid of getting her own heart trampled, she’d used the whole clinic thing as a shield. A reason to get angry. She hadn’t seen what was right in front of her, had instead been the one to do the trampling.

The idea made her queasy, her stomach swaying back and forth so much she was afraid she was going to be sick.

Turning the car on—it purred to life so smoothly—she rolled down the window to let in some icy air. A couple of deep breaths settled her stomach. But it did nothing to help the way her body—and her soul—ached.

She loved Nick Sadler. And she’d made a terrible, terrible mistake letting him go.

Chapter Seventeen

Nick nodded and shook hands with what felt like the millionth mourner. It seemed like all of Nebraska had come to pay their respects to John Sadler.

Or maybe they were here to gawk at his loser son. The one who was supposed to be the best, and yet he couldn’t even win a championship.

“It was a lovely service.” Mrs. Parker, the lady who used to occasionally babysit him and Nate when they were young, patted the back of his hand. He wanted to snatch his back, wipe his sweaty palm on his pants. But he didn’t, because it wasn’t her fault it was a thousand degrees in the house. Or there were so many people crammed inside, he felt like he was suffocating.

His mother sat directly across from him on the couch—the same pink and green floral one they’d had since he was a kid—her black dress ill-fitting and old fashioned, even to his untrained eye.

Her auburn hair, now liberally streaked with grey, was pulled back in her signature bun, the severe style highlighting her sharp features. Eyes dry, back straight, mouth tilted down at the corners in her usual expression. Time had not softened her sharp edges, but honed them it seemed, until they were as sharp and deadly as her tongue had once been.

She’d never been a warm woman, always cold, always distant. When he was younger, he’d always been surprised when his hand brushed against hers and she wasn’t ice cold to the touch.

His relationship with his mother was so different than the one between Alex and Em.

A bright flare of pain burst through his chest at the thought of them, making his breath hitch. Mrs. Parker, probably thinking it was due to his grief, patted his hand again, gave a little squeeze, and then shuffled away.

He glanced around the crowded living room. A few of the mourners were familiar, but most of them he didn’t recognize. Which wasn’t surprising. It had been a long time since he’d considered this town, this house, his home.

The occasional pair of eyes landed on him, and then quickly flicked away. Heads bowed together, words whispered, too low to hear. Not that it mattered. He could feel them all judging him. Reminding each other of all the ways he’d failed his team, himself. His dad.

He stepped back, so he could lean against the wall, keeping himself partially hidden by the edge of the old brick fireplace. That way, he wouldn’t have to look at the massive photo on the mantle, the one of him on draft day, wearing his brand-new Pirate’s jersey. His dad stood beside him, his arm looped around Nick’s shoulders, wearing the biggest grin of his life. The photo was nothing but a reminder of all of Nick’s wasted potential.

He pushed thoughts of his failure, of Alex and Em, away, locking them all down until he was ready. Or at least until today was over. He wasn’t in a place to unpack all of the shit with Alex. It just hurt too damn much to think about right now.

Keep moving forward.

It had always been his motto, the thing that kept him going. But he was just so fucking tired. Weary to his fucking soul. He scrubbed his hand over his face, the tension in his neck and shoulders making them sore.

A knock on the front door made his muscles twitch, his whole body ready to escape. Nate, who was closer, must have felt the same, because he sprang forward and hurried around the corner and into the foyer before Nick could so much as take a step.

The hushed hum of the crowd, combined with the clink of silverware on plates, meant he couldn’t hear anything. Not that he would have recognized anybody’s voice. Most of the people who’d paid their respects were vague, hazy memories of folks he’d known a lifetime ago.

His skin prickled, like little tiny pin pricks all over his arms and chest. He looked up.