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I shake my head, not wanting him to bear the weight of this. It’s on me, all of it. I’m the one who didn’t come home, I’m the one who hasn’t dealt with the grief of losing Nana, and I’m the one who failed to be present enough to even know where either of my grandparents are buried.
“Do . . . Do you want to go in?” he asks, his hand reaching out and hesitantly taking mine, his thumb gently brushing over my knuckles and drawing my whole attention.
My hand shifts under his, my heart thundering as I turn my palm just enough to hold onto his, desperately needing the comfort. “I . . .” I pause, shaking my head before glancing back toward the cemetery. “I don’t . . . I’m not sure I’m ready.”
The tears continue and Nick breaks, reaching for me and hauling me across the cab until I’m straddled over his lap. His strong, warm arms close around my waist and hold me against his chest. As instinct kicks in, I fold myself into him, burying my face in the curve of his neck, right where I’ve always belonged.
The grief tears through me, and he holds me tight, refusing to let go as his hand gently roams up and down my back. It’s like coming home, and despite the grief and chill of winter roaring around us, I’ve never felt so warm.
I cry and cry. Letting out the grief and torment I’ve felt over the past six years, hating myself for the pain I’ve put everyone through for my own selfish desires. Hating how I abandoned Nana and Pop, hating how I left my friends behind, hating how I’ve failed my own heart.
I grieve for the life I could have built with Nick, knowing the dream we always shared died the day I turned my back and walked away, the day I tore him to shreds. Yet here he is, offering me comfort in one of my darkest moments.
Nick dips his head, his forehead resting against my shoulder, and as his lips gently brush across the base of my neck, I suck in a breath.
God. What I wouldn’t give to feel those lips on mine.
Seconds turn into minutes when I finally pull myself together and sit back on his lap, wiping the last of my tears off my cheeks. “Sorry,” I say, barely able to look at him. The very last time I saw him, this is exactly how we were sitting, in this very truck, only it was his heart that was breaking, not mine. “I didn’t mean to fall apart like that.”
Nick reaches out, his fingers brushing beneath my chin and raising it just enough to meet my eyes. “You know I’m always here,” he tells me, his hand hesitantly falling to my thigh. “No matter what’s going on between you and me, or how many fucking miles are between us. If you’re hurting, I’ve got you.”
I swallow hard, and not knowing how to respond, I scramble off his lap, unable to handle the intensity in his eyes. “I, ummm . . . thanks,” I say, my gaze dropping to my hands in my lap, the loss of his warmth hitting me like a freight train and leaving me gasping for air.
Words fail me, and instead of trying to figure something out, I simply nod toward the steering wheel. “I’m good if you want to keep going,” I tell him. “I’ll come back another time . . . when I’m ready.”
“You know, she’s not going to hold it against you,” he tells me, reaching for the stick shift. “She might haunt your ass for a while, but she’ll understand that it’s too hard.”
I scoff, picturing it so clearly, and as the truck idles, ready to get back on the road, Nick meets my stare. “You know, just because you’re not ready to walk in there and physically stand in front of a piece of stone that says her name, doesn’t mean that you’re not ready to acknowledge her. You’re living in the home where you made all of those memories. You’re with her every time you crash onto that old sofa or when you drive around Blushing. Her essence is within you, it’s inside this town and her home. Her resting spot means nothing. It’s just a plot of dirt.”
“You sound as though you’re talking from experience,” I say, knowing damn well he hasn’t lost a single person in his life.
Something hardens in his eyes, and he turns his attention back out the windshield. “I’m not the same person you used to know,” he mutters, each of his words filled with a heaviness I can’t quite understand. And with that, he goes to hit the gas, only the truck rumbles before the engine cuts out, taking the heating right along with it.
“The fuck?” Nick mutters, reaching for the key and twisting it in the ignition again, only for the old truck to swiftly die again.
Horror blasts through my chest, my eyes widening with the realization that we’re trapped on the side of the road, right outside a damn cemetery. “Nick,” I gasp, my heart thundering for a whole new reason.
“It’s fine,” he says, trying to kick it over again, getting exactly the same result.
“NICK!”
“What?” he says, shrugging it off. “She’s an old truck. What do you expect me to do? I’ve been meaning to get her serviced for months.”
Panic soars through my chest. “This is so not happening.”
Nick scoffs, reclining his seat and making himself comfortable. “You better fucking believe it’s happening,” he says, bracing a deliciously muscled arm behind his head and flashing me the most panty-melting smirk I’ve ever seen. “Get comfortable, B. There’s no cell service out here. And unless someone just happens to drive by and rescue our asses, we’re stuck until someone back home notices we’re gone. Unless you fancy a walk, of course? But it’ll be a long one, and I can’t guarantee that you’ll make it home before the frostbite sets in.”
Fuck.
This day just keeps getting better.
11
NICK
Okay,soImaybe acting chill about this whole situation, but inside, I’m fucking panicking. It's not the prospect of freezing to death on the side of the road that scares me, it’s the fact that I’m stuck in a confined space with Blair Wilder, and my only option of escape is to dig myself a grave right next to my mother’s and fall straight into it.
For some reason, the whole walking back to Blushing option doesn’t seem very appealing. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good workout, love it even more when it has everything to do with two bodies getting sweaty together, but walking through the snow on the side of an icy road, getting cold, numb feet just isn’t for me. I’d rather grill Blair and figure out when the hell she expects to get her ass back to New York so we can both move past the agony of having to face each other once again.
