by Ace Gray
There was one simple solution, but that solution had been a prick not minutes ago. I begged myself to find some strength, my backbone, or even my notorious temper and storm out because of Nick’s secrets. I wanted to—I really did—but I was so adrift I couldn’t unwind my limbs, let alone run. I didn’t know if five minutes or five hours had passed while I sat there trying to compose myself.
“What are you doing in here? The fucking pancakes are almost ready.”
Whatever had transpired downstairs had not improved Nick’s mood. His footsteps rounded the corner before stopping short. I could envision his view—a big, beautiful white marble shower with snaking black fissures and large clear glass walls that lead to an unobstructed view of Manhattan. Dead center was a giant showerhead cascading water down onto a broken ball of a human being.
“Kate.” His voice broke and I tucked my head further into my arms. “Sweets,” he said, suddenly much closer. Glass clattered when he flung open the shower door and the whistle of the water stopped. “What happened?” he murmured into my hair as he crouched low.
I wanted to shout at him, but the words caught in my throat. They jumbled in with every other emotion I’d been feeling and got stuck.
“Sweets, talk to me.”
I could only shake my head against my forearm.
“I’ll tell them to go. Just say the word.”
I squirmed under the weight of his gaze and bit my lip. He started to speak a few times but went silent when I tucked my head deeper into the crook of my shoulder rather than listen. Nick ran his fingers through my hair and pushed it from my face.
“Please?” he murmured. His voice was warm against my ear. When my deep breaths were the only sound in the bathroom he gave up on getting an answer and carefully wrapped me in a towel. He rubbed his hands up and down my arms creating a precious friction that warmed deeper than my skin.
The tender gesture brought me back to life. Nick always could, but I couldn’t shake the wariness coating my bones. I couldn’t find a smile for him.
“I’m going to tell my mother goodbye.” He leaned in, aiming to kiss my forehead, but I dodged him.
“It’s fine,” I said flatly. “I’ll be right down.”
“No. There’s no need…” He sounded confused and I honestly didn’t care.
“Bryant, I said it’s fine and I’ll be right down.”
I peeled myself from the shower floor purposely using the wall to steady myself rather than his body. I hugged the towel tighter around me as I slunk past him and into the closet. My clothes had been steamed and hung, so I yanked on the first thing I saw—tight dark jeans and a slouchy dolman sweater—then knotted my hair in a bun without a tie. My head ached bad enough that I added my glasses. They would help draw attention from the muddy brown specks that had appeared in my hazel eyes. My lips were so pale and thin I debated adding lipstick, but decided it wasn’t worth it. Nothing could really hide my pallor.
To his credit, Nick stayed silent as he watched my every step. I made a point to push past him as I headed for the stairs.
“Kate?”
I turned at the frightened voice; Nick’s shoulders slumped. “I…” His mouth opened and closed a few times while his eyes searched the carpet. “I…” Perfectly clear, twinkling blue eyes snapped up to meet mine. “You know I…”
Nicholas Bryant had never struggled so badly for words. He settled on, “Sorry I shouted.”
My heart fell. What had I been expecting instead? He probably wanted to say I’m trying but caught himself, knowing I loathed those words. My body crumpled in on itself as I started down the stairs. His hand was on my forearm before I made it a step.
“Please, I’m incredibly sorry.”
“It’s fine, Bryant. I’ll be fine.” Fine had never come out of my mouth so frequently. Nor had it ever meant so little.
I needed coffee. Badly. Nick trailed behind me as I clipped down the stairs, even reaching for me a few times. I dodged him completely when we reached the first floor, giving Jaime enough time to clear his throat from where he stood business-like near the elevator. Nick let out a world-weary sigh and reluctantly strode toward his office with Jaime in tow.
I slunk into the dining room, plopped into a chair, and stared out the windows. The memory of the first time I laid eyes on this view flitted into my mind. Everything was uncomplicated then. I wanted Nicholas Bryant and I got him. Now our crackling chemistry remained, but the emotion behind it was so much more complex. So complex, it seemed unnavigable at times.
Nick interrupted my thoughts; he was mid-phone call but brought me coffee. He carefully tapped my shoulder with the cup, which I turned to grab. He stood there for a minute and looked longingly down into my eyes, his face reminding me of when he’d stammered upstairs. I was about to reach out to him when he turned without a word and left as swiftly as he’d come.
I missed him. Both the man draped across the chair this morning and the man that made me feel whole and cradled me in his arms while I cried. Even more than that, I missed the version of me that didn’t need him for any of those things.
Sipping my coffee, I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my chin on the perch. I watched the clouds roll over Manhattan and their shadows cross the cityscape. The trees were almost all yellow, orange, or fiery red, while leaves fell to dapple the ground in a patchwork of color. Fall was my favorite time to run through the park. I imagined being there now, and how the brisk air would smell fresh and color my cheeks a rosy hue. It wasn’t the weather that gave me shivers.
“Are you cold?” Nick’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.
“No.”
His forlorn face said he’d already guessed as much.
“Pancakes are ready.” Julia’s singsong voice rang through the dining room. Nick held my gaze but didn’t question me.
The pancakes smelled delicious but I couldn’t bring myself to eat. There was a heaviness in the room that I wasn’t responsible for. I recognized it as the weight that had been hanging on Nick’s shoulders since he’d first laid eyes on Julia in the doorframe this morning.
My mind was elsewhere an hour later when Julia cleared her throat. “I need to head back to the country.” She’d shrunk in her chair.
“You can always stay, Mother.” Nick’s voice was different, sad, and soft, warring with his desire to command.
“Your stepfather would not be happy with that.” Her enunciation was a little too forceful.
Thick silence was back blanketing the room. The realization hit me like a lightning bolt. Nick’s stepfather was the heavy weight laying on them. He’d succeeded in sucking the life out of all three bodies.
Nick had only told me once what he thought of his stepfather and stepbrother, but I remembered it vividly. In a deathly, icy voice, and in no uncertain terms, he’d described them as bastards.
I was suddenly desperately curious but knew better than to ask. Some other day I would make Nick tell me. Perhaps when I had the energy to fight, or fuck, it out of him.
Nick’s grip dug into the arm of his chair, his knuckles turning white as his eyes shifted from his mother to me and back again. I’d gotten good at reading him, he had something to add, but it wasn’t for my ears. That cut me deeply but we were hovering in a tentative truce. I made the decision for him and rose. I hugged and thanked Julia for coming then shuffled up the stairs.
Once I dragged myself all the way to the bedroom, I pulled my laptop from my bag. My fingers shook as I opened email I hadn’t looked at since Thursday. There was a pile of work waiting for me that made my head hurt worse.
I sighed deeply and started typing as quickly as my clouded mind would allow. I was still lying on my stomach and plinking away when Nick came in. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.
“Do you forgive me?” he asked, his voice unsure.
“You a
lready apologized,” I said, only looking up briefly from beneath my eyelashes.
“I know.” He twisted to rest his forehead against the wall. “That’s not what I asked. I asked if you forgive me.”
I pulled my eyes from the screen to look at him—really look at him. He had circles under his eyes and an unfamiliar sag to his shoulders. My emotions had overshadowed everything, including the fact that Nick was worn out, too. And grieving. I wordlessly pushed my laptop to the side and sat back on my heels.
“Nick.” I let out a deep breath. “I already did.”
I looked down at my fingertips as he closed the distance between us. He leaned down and I moved to kiss him. He didn’t meet me, opting instead to press his lips softly to my forehead. Without a word, he disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of water cascading down filled the room a moment later, droplets pattering against the stone.
He reappeared and held out his hand. “Come with me.”
I hesitated. “I think I’ve had enough of the shower for one day.”
“What? Why?” Nick’s entire brow furrowed.
He hadn’t worked this one out yet. I leveled my gaze at him.
How should I answer?
Whatever I managed would either make him feel worse or be an outright lie.
“Forget it.” I twisted back to my laptop. “I mean, I already showered today.”
“Is this about Trevor?”
Nick had asked gently, but it still felt like someone was prying off my fingernails when he said his name.
“I said leave it, Nick. How many times have you asked me to do the same?” My voice shot up but I managed a small smile hoping he’d know I wasn’t trying to start a brawl.
He stayed silent for a while. The weight of the world was back in the room, every bit as heavy on my chest as it was on Nick’s shoulders.
“I’ll never forgive myself for not being there,” he said quietly, almost too quiet to hear. “I can’t believe your perfect skin is marked because of me.” He reached out then his hand fell limply to his side.
His torment pulled my eyes to his once more. “You can’t blame yourself.”
“Oh yes I can. I could’ve subdued her. You wouldn’t have been in danger.”
“Stop.”
His words grated on my ears, possibly on my very soul. I stood up, meaning to shut off the shower, looking for an excuse to escape the conversation.
“It kills me that you had a gun to your head…that you had to watch Trevor die. I hate that it was all because of me.” He was growling through gritted teeth; his automatic reaction, anger, was much easier for him to handle than scared or hurt.
“Nick, I said stop,” I all but yelled. “This isn’t about you, actually.” I reined it in and deflated in front of him. “And it wasn’t because of you, either. This hurts…no aches, but you make it better.” I reached for him and my fingers found skin to curl into, pulling him to me.
“I felt helpless. And scared,” he whispered, his breath tickling my skin. “I still do. Those are foreign feelings to me.” His honesty was a rarity and my breath caught. “Watching you withdraw is horrific. Knowing it’s my fault tears me to shreds.”
“Please don’t feel that way.” I cradled his chin letting my thumbs glide along his cheekbones. “Why do you always blame yourself?” I searched his face; his mouth opened and closed.
My heartbeat soared, thinking he might actually answer. He took a deep breath as mine stopped completely.
“It’s always been my fault. Since I was little. Every time something bad happened, it was on me. They made sure I knew it, too.”
“Who?” I suspected—and maybe I’d always known—but I needed to hear him say it.
“My stepfather and stepbrother.”
The finality in his voice told me we were done talking, but I couldn’t help myself.
“What did they do to you?”
“Leave it,” he said roughly.
“I asked you to leave it and you didn’t,” I shot back. My heart broke the tiniest bit. “Are you ever going to let me in?” I asked, wounded more than anything.
His face fell as he stepped away. “I’ve let you in more than anyone else. More than I ever expected to.” His eyes stormed again.
“Yes, you let me into your apartment, your business, and your bed, but I know next to nothing about you.”
“You know me better than anyone. I tell you everything that’s important.” His face pinched.
“You tell me what you think is important. You don’t even think about what’s important to me.” I threw my hands up in frustration and smacked one on the dresser.
“Shit! Ouch!” I grabbed my hand and started to wheel around the room like a lunatic.
He grabbed me quickly. “Are you okay?” Anger evaporated from his voice.
“It stings like a son of a bitch,” I said shrilly as he chuckled at me. “It’s not funny.” I smacked his chest with my other hand as a little laugh bubbled in my throat.
“I’ll grab you some ice.” Nick kept his smile.
I sat down on the bed, feeling beyond drained. He came back with a small towel full of ice and rested it on my hand. It wasn’t necessary, but it felt good. I leaned my head against his shoulder.
“I’m exhausted,” I murmured.
“I know,” he replied, his lips against my forehead.
“We have the same argument over and over, Nick.”
“I know that too.”
“There’s an easy way to fix that,” I said softly.
“Yes, there certainly is.”
When he didn’t add anything else, I turned to stare at the gorgeous view instead of the gorgeous man. I couldn’t decide if we were moving forward or backward. Things were just so complicated and convoluted.
“Kate, I hate upsetting you.” It was a low, gravelly confession.
“Nick, I hate fighting with you.”
He pulled on my shoulder and flattened me to the bed. He climbed over top, using the comforter to pin me then kissed me deeply, playing with my tongue.
“Sweets, I…” His lips moved against mine, his breath warm against my skin.
When he didn’t finish his thought, I opened my eyes to find a whole new eye color staring back at me. One that shimmered brilliantly.
“I…” he trailed off.
“I know, Nick.” I tried to form a genuine smile. I honestly didn’t want to hear I’m sorry, or, I’m trying again, nor did I think he’d finish that sentence differently.
“I’m sorry, too.” I reached up, kissed his nose, and turned over before he had a chance to respond.
“Nicholas Bryant,” I yelled as I stomped my foot. “If you make me late I will kill you!”
Yesterday still lingered on my mind. Everything was unresolved and delicately balancing on the edge of a cliff. To make matters more frustrating, when I’d suggested we resolve things the way we resolved them best, the bastard turned down my sexual advance. That had never happened before.
Nick appeared at the top of the stairwell on his phone, deep in conversation. His eyes narrowed to slits as he seamlessly continued speaking then turned back the way he came.
Before he completely disappeared, I yelled, “Five minutes!” after him.
Jaime held out a cup coffee as I plopped onto a stool. I pulled out a small smile before digging for my BlackBerry. Laura had been furiously shooting off messages all morning. I sent a brief response saying I couldn’t talk but would pencil in lunch. Her answering wooohooo! was the only good thing about my morning.
I was about to shout again when Nick reappeared and casually clipped down the stairs. Still deep in terse conversation, he grabbed a coffee, his briefcase, and moved toward the elevator. He made an overly dramatic motion for me to follow.
Jackass.
Being equall
y melodramatic, I pushed into the far corner of the elevator. My ears perked up when Nick’s conversation shifted to tech components, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of appearing interested. Instead, I slammed things around in my Birkin loud enough for all three men to turn as I dug for my sunglasses. Nick’s whole face contorted just before I shoved my glasses on.
When the doors opened I plowed out, pushing past everyone to click-clack across the lobby. That is until I laid eyes on the photographers. An entire rolling sea of them. From nowhere, panic came crashing down on me like a massive, devastating wave.
My feet rooted suddenly and oh-so awkwardly, forcing Colton to smack into me. His hands flew to my elbows and steadied my now-Jell-O body. Jaime and Bryant strode purposefully past us as Colton gently urged me forward.
“Kate?” Colton’s deep, reassuring voice questioned me when I stayed stalk-still.
The tightness in my chest wouldn’t let me respond. I went to take a step and my ankle folded. Colton steadied me, but I naturally closed my eyes to find my balance. I couldn’t help it; I was immediately transported back to the moment I exited the police car, paparazzi screaming. I was going to collapse.
There was a quick jostle at my elbow. Goosebumps told me who was holding me now. Warm breath danced through my hair and against my ear just before Nick whispered, “Sweets, are you okay?”
“Better,” I squeaked, grasping at his lapels before resting my cheek against his chest hoping to hear his heartbeat.
He shifted my sunglasses ever so slightly then wrapped his arms around me, the bickering of the last 24 hours instantly forgotten. His arms squeezed and his grasp helped move me out of the building and through the chaotic crowd to the car. Nick stayed gentle as he pulled me to his side in the backseat and cradled my face in his strong hands.
“Please help me understand what’s going on in here,” he asked as his fingertips tapped ever so slightly on my temples. “Why does it come on so sudden?”
“They make me feel like it’s happening all over again. Certain things do.”