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Hayley shifted her incredulous gaze from the cart to the man behind it. Then, suddenly and completely, she burst into tears.
She was dimly aware of him sidestepping the cart and rushing toward her, reaching out with the hand that wasn’t on his walker and enveloping her where she stood. Her hair brushed his face; tears landed on his shoulder as she grabbed a fistful of his shirt.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured in her ear. “I’ve got you.”
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “Why would you even … I’mso sorry…”
“Hey.” Her body heaved against his. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I ruined it,” she insisted. “I ruined everything.”
“I’m still here.” He soothed her. “Everything else is on the other side of that door. All those expectations are out there in the dark, okay? It’s just you and me in here, and you don’t have to do anything or give anything or be anything for anybody. I’ve got you, Hayley. I’ve got you.”
He held her close until her crying slowed, then stopped. The room announced itself around her—the whir of the air-conditioning, the metal of his walker as she brushed against it with her hip—and she realized where she was and what she’d just done. She swiped at her tears and smoothed his shirt at the shoulders.
“God.” She sniffled. “Wow, sorry. That was … you didn’t need to see that.”
“Seems to me it was a long time coming.”
Would he understand if she told him everything? Would he even want to listen?
“What can I do for you, Hayley?” Nick asked.
She didn’t even know what to ask for.
“I’m gonna go wash my face,” she said.
Her eyes were red and her face was too damn pale, and there wasn’t much she could do about that in Nick Freeman’s guest bathroom, but she pulled herself together enough to feel okay about walking back into the same room with him.
“We’re watching a movie.” If she said it with enough cheerful confidence, maybe cheerful confidence would actually show up.
“Okay,” Nick bent down to grab the remote control from the seat of his recliner. “We can stream one of your musicals if you want. How’sAn American in Texas?”
She sighed. “Paris, Freeman.An American in Paris. Texas is nothing but Americans.” She saw the sly grin on his face. “Oh, okay. You think you’re being funny.”
“How could it be Paris?” he asked innocently. “No American would ever be caught dead in Paris.”
She threw a chocolate bar at his head as he chortled. “See, you think just because your legs don’t work, I won’t knock them out from under you for being so uncultured, but I’m much more enlightened than that.”
“Uncultured?” Nick feigned indignation as they faced each other across the cart. “I’ve got all sorts of culture.”
“Oh yeah?” She lunged for the M&Ms, and he got there first. “Prove it.”
He had to think about it. “I’ve seen all theStar Warsmovies, for starters.”
She grabbed the ice cream. “If you think aliens shooting at each other is better than a seventeen-minute ballet—”
“Hang on.” Nick watched her heft the container in one hand. “There’s a seventeen-minute ballet in that movie?”
She nodded. “At the end. It’s beautiful.”
“Well,” he said carefully, “since you’re armed, I’m going to say that doesn’t sound boring at all.”
She sighed. “Why do I hang out with you?”
“Because you can put it on your résumé as special-needs care.”
Hayley lowered her arm. “Since when do you make handicapped jokes?”
