by Street, K.
I knew the answer without thinking. “After the wedding, when you walked me to my car.”
“And before that?”
He was quiet while I shuffled through memory after memory.
“I don’t know,” I answered softly.
“Exactly.”
“Fine. Here’s your chance. Say whatever it is you need to say.” I kept my arms crossed, needing the barrier between our bodies.
“I miss you.”
The pure honesty in his statement caused my breath to catch.
“I think about you a thousand times a day.” He reached out to trail the pad of his thumb over the line of my jaw. “I’m not asking you to forget about the past, Mace, but I am asking you to stop living in it.”
His words caught me off guard, but there was no denying their truth.
I had lived my life tethered in the past. Those moments when I felt like I was softening toward Nash, I’d force myself to remember all the ways he had hurt me. Clinging to the pain he’d caused. Bone-deep hurts that he knew nothing about.
The past was swathed in secrets and cloaked in guilt. Instead of trying to escape it, I used it as a shield. An excuse to push away not only Nash, but others as well.
I had boarded up the walls of my broken heart. Yet here Nash stood, doing his damnedest to pry me open. As much as I had once hated Nash, there was a part of me that loved him, too.
“That’s easier said than done. I don’t think I know how to stop living in the past,” I confessed.
“Try.”
For the briefest second, my eyes fell shut, and a lifetime of memories flickered behind my closed lids. The good times. Moments that weren’t shrouded in hurt but filled with laughter and love.
Six years old: Nash stealing a kiss from me on the playground.
Nine years old: Climbing the huge live oak tree in the park. I was too scared to climb back down, but Nash was right beside me, promising he wouldn’t let me fall.
Twelve years old: Knobby knees and barely there boobs, I was on Nash’s arm at the school dance.
Fifteen years old: Standing on my parents’ front porch, listening to Nash swear he would always love me.
Heat pooled in my belly.
A shiver danced down my spine.
Nash hooked his right thumb and index finger under my chin, angling my face slightly upward.
There was too much history between us.
“Nash?” I braced my hands on his bare chest, realizing too late what a bad idea it was.
“Yeah, Mace?”
I swallowed hard, searching for the words, but then he brought his perfect lips to my neck, landing on the spot he knew was my undoing.
He didn’t play fair, and I didn’t stand a chance against the heat of his mouth. What started as a spark burned to a blaze that consumed all rational thought.
Nash kissed his way up my neck, across my jaw, and to the corner of my mouth. He nipped my bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth.
I opened on a whimper, and that was all the invitation he needed to delve inside.
His hands shifted to cup my face as his tongue tangled with mine. I knew by the way he dominated my mouth that this was so much more than a kiss.
It was a battle in a war we had been waging for years.
Chances were, no matter how things played out between us, we’d both lie in ruin. But I couldn’t force myself to push him away.
Every second his lips were on mine, a little more fight left me.
It had been too long.
I missed him.
His taste.
The scratch of his scruff against my cheeks.
The way he smelled like car grease and soap.
My hands went to his neck, fingers gripping the hair at his nape, and I kissed him back, matching his urgency.
5
Nash
I knew the second Macy gave up the fight by the way she melted into me. As though her entire form collectively sighed with relief. Part of me wanted to ravage her. The rest of me wanted to take my time. Explore every inch of her. To spend hours worshipping the body of the woman she’d grown into.
Without breaking the seal of our lips, I slipped my hands beneath Macy’s ass and lifted her onto the counter. Then, my mouth traveled back to her neck, just below her earlobe. It had always been her sweet spot. The one I knew drove her wild.
I couldn’t resist trailing the tip of my tongue over her flesh before sucking it between my teeth.
Macy’s mouth had tasted like mint.
But her skin?
Her fucking skin tasted like home.
She arched her back, pressing into me. The thin tank she wore did little to conceal her hardened nipples as they grazed my bare chest.
“God, Nash,” she whimpered.
I loved the desperate sound of my name on her lips.
Need coursed through me, and I wanted her more than my next fucking breath. My stiff cock strained painfully against the seam of my zipper.
Macy’s nails dug into my shoulders. My mouth slowly made its way back to hers, tenderly kissing her before taking it deeper. I gripped her waist and pulled her closer, letting her feel just how much I wanted her.
Macy’s hands pressed into the hard wall of my chest. “Nash,” she panted, “we can’t.”
She was right.
Not tonight. Not when the risk of being interrupted was too great. Not when I wouldn’t have the chance to spend hours savoring all of her.
“I know.” I pulled away the smallest fraction and angled her head, so her cheek rested over my heart, and I hugged her against me.
Her arms snaked around my back.
No words were spoken. We didn’t need them. Not yet anyway.
I dropped a kiss to the top of her head and pulled her close.
Several long minutes passed as we held on to each other.
“Mace.”
“Hmm?” The sound vibrated against my chest.
“You should go get some rest.”
She lifted her head, pulling back to look at me, and stifled a yawn. “I’ll walk you out.”
“I’m sleeping on your couch tonight.”
“You can’t stay here.”
She could argue all she wanted, but I wasn’t leaving.
“I’m staying. It’s late. You’re exhausted, and honestly, so am I. If Shayne wakes up, I’ll take care of her.”
She yawned again, as if on cue.
I helped her down from the counter.
“I’m going to go grab you a pillow.” She relented and walked away.
I opened a few cabinets before I found the one containing the glasses. Reaching inside, I pulled one out, turned on the faucet, and filled it with water. I chugged it down and then set it in the dishwasher. I switched the clothes over to the dryer, and on the way to the bathroom, I turned out the kitchen light.
When I made it back into the living room, I found Macy leaning against the arm of the couch, waiting for me.
I took her by the hand and pulled her close, wrapping her in an embrace. “Sleep well. I’ll be right here if you need me.”
“Good night.”
I watched her go, and then, with the glow from the television lighting my way, I made sure all the doors were locked before setting the sleep timer on the TV and crashing on the couch.
* * *
Jab. Jab. Jab.
The sensation of being repeatedly poked in the cheek pulled me from sleep. With my eyes still closed, I stretched my arms over my head and let out a groan.
“Good. You’re awake.”
Turning my head toward the sound, I wiped sleep from my eyes. My vision cleared and landed on Shayne. “Feeling better, Monkey?”
“I’m a little hungry, and Aunt Macy is still sleeping.”
I sat up on the couch to make room for her and patted the cushion next to me.
She climbed up with her pig securely held in her hand.
I took in her appearance.
Dark circles showed
beneath her eyes, indicative of the rough night she’d had.
“We’ll let Aunt Macy sleep. I’ll make you breakfast. What do you feel like eating?”
“Can I have some toast with jelly?”
“Sure, kiddo. Give me a few minutes, and you can watch cartoons while you wait.”
After I turned on the TV for her and used the bathroom, I went into the kitchen. I’d only been inside Macy’s house a handful of times. Luckily, almost everything I needed was in plain sight. The coffee pods were in a basket next to the Keurig, and there was a loaf of bread on the counter near the toaster.
While the bread toasted, I grabbed my dry shirt from the dryer and tugged it over my head. Then, I started a cup of coffee. Waiting for the coffee to brew, I opened the fridge. The corners of my mouth tugged into a smile when my eyes fell on the jar of strawberry jam. Macy had always hated anything grape-flavored, including jelly.
It was such a small detail about her, but there were a hundred more just like it, and I knew every single one. The way she tugged her bottom lip when she was anxious. Or how she dipped her fries in ranch dressing instead of ketchup. The scar she had on her right knee from falling off her bike when we were kids. I remembered her white-knuckled grip as she’d sat atop my handlebars and held on for dear life while I gave her a ride home and promised her again and again that I’d always take care of her.
The toast popped in the toaster and shook me from my trip down memory lane. I grabbed the butter along with the jam and set them on the counter. I pulled out several drawers before I found the one with the silverware. I prepared Shayne’s toast and then made some for myself.
Carefully, I balanced a bottle of water, napkins, our breakfast, and my coffee and made my way back into the living room.
Shayne smiled up at me. “Thanks, Uncle Nash.”
“You’re welcome, baby.” I set my cup and the water bottle on the end table, gave Shayne one of the plates, and set mine down to twist the cap off her drink.
She nibbled on her breakfast and drank her water while I inhaled mine.
Shayne had barely eaten half a piece of her toast when she looked at me and said, “I’m full.”
“You don’t have to eat any more. We don’t want you to get sick again.”
Shayne climbed off the couch. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay. Don’t wake up Aunt Macy. Let her sleep.”
“Trust me, Uncle Nash; I know better than to poke the bear.”
I laughed as she walked away.
A few minutes later, she returned with a clean face and a book in her hand.
“Can you read to me?” She held out a paperback copy of The Secret Garden.
“Sure.” I wiped my hands on a napkin, turned off the television, and took the book from her.
Shayne settled in next to me. “We’re on chapter three.”
I opened it and began to read.
6
Macy
Light poured through the blinds, pulling me from slumber. For a split second, panic shot through me. The spot where Shayne should’ve been was empty. Then, I remembered Nash had spent the night on my couch, and feeling relieved, I lay back against the pillow.
The memory of the kiss I’d shared with him last night in my kitchen tugged on my sleep-induced haze. My finger traced over my lips as I recalled the way his mouth moved against mine.
I’d thought I knew what it was like to be kissed by Nash, but the truth was, he’d never kissed me quite like that. Like a man who finally had the one thing he had been deprived of for far too long.
I kissed Nash.
It was a little too much to process this early in the morning, and I needed to go check on Shayne.
I dragged myself from the comfort of my bed and went to use the bathroom. As I washed my hands, I caught my reflection in the mirror. I had been so exhausted that I hadn’t washed my face before bed.
Black remnants of yesterday’s eyeliner streaked beneath my lower lids, and small flecks of mascara dotted my cheekbones. My hair stuck out in every direction, turning my previously-slept-on messy bun into something else entirely. I looked like Pippi Longstocking and Frankenstein had concocted a bad experiment, and the result was staring back at me.
“Holy shit,” I muttered, thankful Shayne wasn’t around to hear me because I was fresh out of quarters for her swear jar.
I grabbed a cotton ball from one of the see-through containers lining the sink and then reached into the bottom drawer of the vanity for my makeup remover. Once my face was clean, I wove my hair into a quick French braid and then went into my room to change out of my pajamas. After I put on a bra, I reached for the first T-shirt my fingers landed on and a pair of shorts, and I headed in search of Nash and Shayne.
I heard their voices coming from the living room. When I rounded the corner, I stopped short at the sight of them cuddled together on the couch.
Shayne was tucked into Nash’s side, listening intently as he read to her.
As I stared at the two of them, my heart ached with a longing that went soul deep.
“Mace?”
“Good morning.”
Nash oddly looked at me over his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat. I walked over to them and took a seat beside Shayne. Ruffling her hair, I said, “Good morning, Butter Bean.”
“Morning, Aunt Macy,” Shayne said.
“Glad to see you’ve joined the land of the living.” Nash smirked.
Shayne eyed Nash. “Um, Uncle Nash, I thought we’d agreed not to poke the bear.”
“You’re right.” He looked at me. “She seems to be feeling better.”
“I am better.” Shayne pointed to a plate that held three triangles of toast. “Uncle Nash made me breakfast, and I ate some of it. My tummy hurts a tiny bit but not like I need to throw up.”
Thank goodness for small favors.
“Do you need anything before I go?” Nash asked.
“No. I think we’re good.”
“All right then.” He planted a kiss on the top of Shayne’s head and stood. “See you tomorrow, Monkey.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “What day is tomorrow?”
“Sunday,” Nash and I said in unison.
“Yay! That means Daddy and Mama will finally be home.” Worry crossed her features. “I mean, I like hanging out with you guys, but they’ve been gone forever.”
“We knew what you meant, kiddo,” I assured her. “We’ll be glad to have them home, too.”
It was true. Camryn and I had gotten close. We hadn’t gone this long without talking to each other since we became friends, and Tucker was the brother I’d never had.
Nash grabbed his coffee cup along with the plates and carried them into the kitchen.
I turned on the TV for Shayne. “Watch cartoons for a sec. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.” She settled back onto the pillow Nash had used and snuggled Wilbur.
I followed Nash into the kitchen and watched as he opened the dishwasher and set his mug on the top rack.
There were so many things I wanted to say, but I had no idea where to start. I worried my bottom lip for a few seconds and then blurted out, “Thanks.”
His chuckle was low and rumbling. “For what?”
That kiss.
“Helping out with Shayne.”
Nash crossed the few feet of space between us and leaned in close, his warm coffee breath grazing my neck. “You’re welcome.”
His lips met my bare skin, and he nipped the spot he knew drove me insane with desire.
The tiniest moan escaped my throat, and I instinctually angled my neck upward, granting him more access.
He sucked away the sting and then lifted his head to meet my eyes, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip.
“See you later, Mace.” His voice, deep and delicious, floated over my skin. He dropped his hand and started to walk away.
On the verge of losing my nerve, I
called out to him, “Nash?”
“Yeah?” He turned back to me and closed the few feet of space separating our bodies.
Something was happening between us.
He had been my first everything.
And I had always thought he’d be my last.
Until he’d broken my heart.
He was just a kid, I reminded myself. We both were.
Last night, he’d asked me to try, and I never gave him an answer.
Maybe we could do this.
Maybe this time would be different.
“I’ll try.”
His hand went to the back of my neck. “Yeah?”
“Yes. I’m not making any promises though. I can’t. But I will try.”
“That’s all I ask.”
He claimed my mouth. His tongue swirled with mine in a delicate dance of desire. Too soon, the kiss was over.
He held my gaze while a myriad of emotions flared in his green eyes. Then, he gave me his signature smile. The one that turned my insides to goo.
“See you later.”
With a final, quick peck to my lips, he strolled away.
On his way out the door, I heard him tell Shayne good-bye for the second time.
Something that felt an awful lot like hope bloomed in my belly, and I stood in the kitchen for several seconds, waiting for the heat to leave my cheeks.
7
Nash
I pulled into Laura Jaxson’s driveway and got out of the car.
“Uncle Nash,” Shayne hollered from the front porch.
As soon as my feet crossed the threshold onto the porch that ran the length of the house, Shayne crashed into my legs, and I scooped her into a hug. I would have never known, less than forty-eight hours ago, she had been sick.
“Hey, Monkey.”
The screen door squeaked in protest and then slammed behind Tucker as he stepped out to join us, holding a beer in each hand.
After I set Shayne down, Tucker extended the unopened bottle to me.
“Thanks, man,” I said and twisted the cap off the bottle. “How was the honeymoon?”