Page 126 of Freefall

My chest constricts. “That’s the problem!”

“It wasn’t until you made it one.”

“I was scared, Nate.” My voice is strained, but I force the words out anyway. “You scared me, then gave me an ultimatum, and in my most vulnerable moment, you stayed silent. I begged you to talk to me, and you sat there on the other end of the phone while I stared at two lines that were about to change my entire life.”

The words pour out of me so quickly that I couldn’t stop them if I tried. Maybe it’s the memory of that day still clinging to my mind, or maybe it’s realizing that after all these years, we're still the same people. It’s like we’re pieces of a puzzle, but with defects. Even though they’re supposed to fit, they don’t.

“When I found out I got into Summit U,” I continue, “you were the first person I wanted to call, but then I realized that if you hated me that much for going home an hour away, you never would have forgiven me for following my dreams across the country.”

He winces like my words are physically causing him pain, but I keep going. “You never would have supported me. So I didn’t call.” I swallow past the lump lodged in my throat. “And when I found out I was pregnant, I was all alone. You made sure of that.”

His eyes are the stormiest I've ever seen them, raging with unshed tears as he takes a step toward me. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but doesn’t. He shakes his head, and a lock of his perfectly styled hair breaks free and falls into his face.

“I came to your house,” he finally says, so quietly I almost don't hear it.

“What?”

“A week after you called me.” His voice is rougher now. “After I calmed down enough to realize what an asshole I’d been, I drove to your parents’ house.” I can only stare at him. “Your mom came to the door and told me you had moved to Colorado.”

A week later.

That would have only been a day into the new year. I didn’t leave for Colorado until the second week of January. Suddenly, the room feels like it's tilting underneath me. “I…I hadn't left yet.”

His eyebrows pull together. “What do you mean?”

“I was still there.”

For several tense seconds, neither of us speaks. Then he stalks forward until he’s inches away from me. “She told me you were gone, Harper.”

I grip the edge of the counter behind me. How could she…

“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper, though the words are hollow. “I still kept Daisy from you.”

“Because you thought I abandoned you.” He lays a hand on the counter to steady himself before he can even continue. “And the whole damn time… I thought you abandoned me.”

My stomach lurches, my throat burning like I swallowed fire. My mother. The one person in this world who was supposed to protect my heart. Somehow…

She’s the one who broke it.

Nate reaches for me, and before I can stop him, his lips are pressed to mine. Soft. Gentle. Somehow more painful than if he had sunk his teeth into them. It’s the kiss I’ve wanted for the last three months. His tongue lingers against mine tentatively, like he’s asking a question he doesn't want the answer to. His thumb grazes my waist, barely touching the fabric of my shirt, and for one reckless moment, I let myself kiss him back.

He pulls away first, his forehead resting against mine while his eyes stay closed. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

It’s not that the words have lost meaning. It’s that they don’t change everything that happened. The mistakes we’ve both made. The trust we’ve lost.

I’m the one to step back first, the loss of his warmth immediate. “Nathan.”

His eyes snap open, red-rimmed and hopeful, and I know that there are only three words I can say that will get him to stop fighting for us, to make him give up on this relationship so we can both focus on Daisy.

He shakes his head like he already knows what’s coming, and even though they taste like acid on my tongue, I force them out.

“I need space.”

The hope disappears instantly, replaced by the mask he wore when we saw each other at the park for the first time in nine years.

“Okay,” he says quietly.

This time, he doesn’t threaten me or give me an ultimatum. He doesn’t argue or try to kiss me again. He just looks at me like he’s trying to memorize my face before he turns and walks toward the front door.