Blythe’s eyes left his and found a point on the sidewalk between them. Nate watched her take a deep breath before she looked up again.
“There’s really nothing to talk about, Nate.”
She hated him. It was that simple. He’d sent her away. Told her never to come back. And she’d hated him for it. He couldn’t really blame her.
“I understand. I know I mistreated you.” He balled his fists at his side to keep from reaching for her. His racing heart threatened to choke him. “I’ve always regretted it. You have every reason to hate me.”
Her face softened then, and Nate thought he saw sadness.
“I don’t hate you.”
It was what he wanted to hear, but Nate wondered if she was just being kind. He’d never known her to be cruel. Not like him.
Don’t come back.
She had listened. She’d never come back. Never called. Never texted him again. At the time, he’d decided that she was so angry with him that she was giving him just what he deserved. Then, as time passed, and it was clear that she had moved on, he wondered if what he’d felt for her — both the love and the heartache — was all his own. Maybe she had never loved him as deeply.
Maybe that was why she didn’t hate him now.
He drew his own deep breath, unsure what to say next. She no longer looked ready to run, and she watched him with those blue eyes. Such a clear blue. Seeing them again made it hard to stand upright.
The last time he’d stood across from her, the pain had been so great. Maybe it was still there, a deep pain between them that needed to be owned before anything else.
“I made a terrible mistake,” he said.
Blythe closed her eyes then and shook her head as though to stop him. He watched her draw her arms around herself as if to shield her body from harm. She swallowed hard and looked at him again.
“It’s in the past,” she whispered. But it was clear that the past they shared still hurt her. Nate realized that he would rather be the only one. The only one who ached over them. He’d never wish that on her.
“I’m so sorry.”
With his words, the rain picked up again, swirls of mist blowing under the awning where they stood and dampening their faces.
Blythe seemed to snap out of her memory. She took a step back and raised her umbrella.
“I need to go. I’ll miss my bus.”
“No, wait.” He stepped forward but stopped before grabbing her hand. “Let me give you a ride home. I can’t let you walk through this rain.”
Her eyes went hard.
“I’ve walked through hundreds of rain storms in the last six years, Nate,” she snapped. “I can manage.”
This was new. He’d never heard such acid in her voice. Not even the day they broke up. It surprised him. Not because he didn’t think he deserved it. He knew he did. But for the first time, he understood that Blythe was no longer the girl in his memory. She was a woman. A woman with a story he didn’t know, a history that had transformed her.
A part of him mourned the girl, but another part took notice of the woman. He couldn’t let her walk away.
“Just a ride. Please.” He stepped closer and squared his shoulders. “You can manage that, too, I’m sure.”
Blythe blinked and lowered her lashes. The harshness eased. He could see that she was considering it. He had a chance.
“I’ll bring you straight home. I promise,” he vowed. “And after you hear me out, if you never want to see me again, I’ll leave you alone… You have my word.”
She eyed him for a minute and then let go a sigh.
“Okay.”
A jolt shot through him.
“Okay?” he asked, disbelieving.
Blythe nodded.
“Just a ride,” she stressed, drawing out her umbrella and moving toward his truck.
“O-of course.” Nate rushed ahead of her to open the passenger side door. He watched her climb in, wishing that he could take her elbow and help her up, but he dared not touch her.
Through the rain, he ran around the front of the truck and got in behind the wheel. There, he wiped the raindrops from his face and stole a glance at her. Blythe sat facing straight ahead, looking uncomfortable.
The ride would be short, and Nate knew he had to make every minute count.
“Are you hungry… or thirsty?” he asked, willing her to look at him. “We could go through the drive-thru at CC’s on the way.”
She eyed him humorlessly.
“CC’s is not on the way.”
Nate shrugged, forcing a smile.
“Yeah, but it’s not far out of the way.”
Blythe didn’t smile back. She just faced forward again as Nate felt his insides sink. He started the truck, and then she surprised him.
“I could use a latte.”
Nate swallowed a gasp. His time with her had just doubled.
“Long day?” he asked, hoping to get her talking as he pulled into traffic.
He heard her sigh again.
“First day.”
His head jerked toward her.
“Really?”
Blythe nodded, the hint of a smile taking shape on her lips. No sign of those dimples, but Nate gave thanks for even this small token.
“Did you move back for this job?”
All traces of the smile vanished.
“No.”
Nate cursed himself. He wished he knew what was safe to ask. They drove in silence. He had to admit that her answer didn’t surprise him. She didn’t want to be back in Lafayette, and yet she was. When the light at Jefferson and Johnston Street changed, he gave in to his curiosity.
“So… is everything okay?”
She faced him with a frown.
“What do you mean?”
Nate hesitated. He didn’t want to piss her off, but where else could they begin?
“I mean… what brought you back? Is your family okay?”
Blythe rolled her eyes.
“They are just the same. Fine, but…” The half-smile was back. “You know.”
Nate had always thought the Barnes family was lucky. All together, they were a little intense, but they felt like… a family. Compared to his life growing up with just Richland and Lila, Blythe’s household had always seemed so full. Richer, somehow. Even if they could be a bit odd — and sometimes annoying.
“Are you living there?” Nate ventured. “I mean, when I saw you at the bus stop today, I figured…”
He watched her shoulders droop at the question.
“For now,” she acknowledged with a nod. She pressed her lips together and seemed to debate with herself. Nate held his breath and waited for her to continue. “I lost my job in New Orleans, and… some other stuff happened, and I needed to come home.”
Disappointment was clear in her face, in her posture. The urge to reach for her hand to comfort her was almost too much for Nate to master.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
But I’m glad you are here.
Blythe shook her head as if to shrug it off.
“It doesn’t matter… I mean, yeah, it sucks,” she said, her eyes flashing with heat. “But at least I have a job now.”
Nate pulled into the Albertson’s parking lot and snaked through the rows of cars until he reached CC’s. The line for the drive-thru was six cars long. Nate silently cheered his good fortune.
He pointed to the grocery store to their right.
“Lila works there now.”
This time, Blythe gave him the full smile. Dimples. Sparkling blue eyes. The works.
Oh, God.
She was so beautiful. She’d stayed beautiful in his memory, but no memory could compare to Blythe up close.
“Really? What does she do?”
Nate had to overcome the electric shock to his sternum before he could reason out her question.
“Um… she’s a stocker… And she’s great at it.”
“I’ll bet.” Her smile faded a little. “I’m glad she�
�s doing well.”
And here it was. Lila and the past. The loss that had led to every other loss. Nate decided that if he was going to make a speech, now was as good a time as any.
“We’ve managed. It’s not always been easy,” he began. “Lila was a mess for a long time.”
Nate let himself draw up the memory of those first months of bleakness, but then he looked at Blythe and found her watching him with something like caution.
“I was a mess, too,” he said. “And it wasn’t because Richland was gone or because I had to take care of Lila… It was because I lost you.”
The car behind them honked, and Nate looked up to see that it was their turn to order.
So much for speeches.
“What would you like?” Nate asked, feeling ridiculous after vomiting up his heart in the drive-thru line. He could tell by the furrow in her brow that she didn’t want to hear it.
“Decaf soy latte with almond.”
He ordered for them, and when they pulled up in line, Blythe kept her eyes on her lap. He knew he should shut up, but Nate couldn’t help himself.
“It is my biggest regret—”
“Nate, please stop!” Blythe shouted.
Nate clamped his mouth shut. The cab of the truck seemed to rattle with the shock of her words, but what stunned him most was the look of anguish on her face. It paralyzed him. She looked like she would cry any second, and Nate stared at her in confusion.
“Blythe…” he whispered, lost. Why would his apology upset her?
He watched her squeeze her eyes closed and give one shake of her head. Nate didn’t know if she was wordlessly telling him to shut up or if she was simply trying to compose herself, but he kept quiet anyway.
They crept forward in line. Nate allowed himself a slow, deep breath. It always helped — reminding himself to breathe. And when he inhaled again, he caught the scent of her perfume.
Butterfly ginger.
Even now, she smelled the same. The distance between them — the years — fell away. They were locked in a tension he didn’t understand, but Nate realized that they were locked together. Not apart. Ten minutes in a car with her, and there was the same closeness — outlasting the years of pain they had both endured.
When they reached the drive-thru window, Nate paid for their drinks and silently handed over Blythe’s.
“Thank you,” she muttered. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, but she seemed to have calmed down.
“You’re welcome,” he said, pulling back into traffic. He didn’t want to take her home. He wanted to drive her to his house, bring her inside, and get her to talk to him — all night if he had to — so they could find a way to move forward from here.
But that wasn’t going to happen. He would take her home, and she would probably ask him to leave her alone, and Nate would have to accept that. Even if he didn’t know how he would do it.
He made a right onto Congress. They’d be back in her neighborhood in minutes. Nate resolved to speak his mind while he had the chance since he had nothing to lose. Everything was already lost.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, Blythe… If this is the last five minutes I get to spend with you,” He paused to draw a breath and soothe the ache of that thought. “I want you to know that I’ve missed you every day for the last six years, and the only thing I’ve wanted more than to see you again is for you to be happy.”
Nate glanced over to see her staring back, looking doubtful.
“If that were true, why didn’t you ever call?”
The question — and the accusation in her tone — gutted him. Why hadn’t he called her? Now that she sat beside him, asking, the reason seemed meaningless.
“I didn’t have the right… not after the way I’d ended things.”
He stopped at the light at Cajundome Boulevard, and when he met her eyes, he could not tell if he saw disbelief or detachment.
“And now?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
Nate didn’t hold back.
“And now, I don’t want to watch you walk away again,” he said, willing his voice to come out evenly, despite the way his desperate heart railed in his chest. “I’d like the chance to find out what would happen… if… if you’d let me see you.”
A shadow passed over Blythe’s face, and she looked away.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
It was the answer he expected, but it crushed him to hear it. Still, he didn’t want to give up hope.
“Does that mean I’m to leave you alone? You don’t want me to call you now?”
Blythe stared straight ahead.
“I don’t know what it means,” Blythe whispered.
The light turned, and instead of going straight through the intersection, a wild impulse told him to turn right.
“Where are you going? You should have kept straight.” She shot him a confused look.
“I just…” Nate merged into the turning lane and made a left on Souvenir Gate. “… want to show you something.”
“Nate,” she argued. “You said you’d take me straight home. I don’t have time for a detour.”
Her tone was firm, but Nate was relieved to hear that she did not sound afraid. He wasn’t planning to kidnap her — though the idea had its appeal.
“It won’t even take a minute.”
Blythe sighed and sipped her coffee. When they passed St. Catherine, his old street, Nate saw her eye him with question, but she said nothing. But then he turned onto St. Patrick — heading south instead of angling north toward her neighborhood.
“What the hell, Nate?” Irritation and confusion marked her voice.
He knew he was pressing his luck, but he wanted to leave the door between them open. When he reached Azalea, he slowed and pointed to his brick house.
“That’s where I live now. And Lila’s in the apartment,” he said, gesturing toward the garage. Then he turned to face her. “You will always be welcome here. Day or night. Anytime you want to see me, just know that I want to see you.”
Her face softened then, and she pressed her lips together. Nate knew she wouldn’t say anything, but that also meant she wouldn’t say no.
He made a left on Azalea and pointed them back in the right direction.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
IT WAS EASIER NOT TO LOOK at him.
When she looked, it felt like gravity doubled, like it could pull her into him. Like her hand might glide through the air and touch him without her acceptance.
But she wanted to look at Nate Bradley. Every moment she had missed him seemed to converge on her and crowd the tight cab of his truck. There was no denying now that Blythe missed him the way the blind miss the sky, the way the exiled miss home. She’d had years to get used to it, to weave the ache into her very being, but being near him now ripped her at the seams.
And if she could believe him, he’d missed her, too.
Still, how could that be true? He could have called her at any moment. It’s what she would have done — what she was planning to do — before…
But then she’d done the unthinkable. The unforgivable. And she knew she could never reach out to him again. So when he asked to see her again, she couldn’t say yes.
But she couldn’t make herself say no.
Through the endless rain, she stared at the brick house and listened to Nate tell her that she’d always be welcome there.
Don’t cry.
Blythe bit back the tears that threatened a second time. She couldn’t speak; she could only pray that Nate would take her home soon. If she let herself cry now, she might never stop, and Nate would ask questions she couldn’t answer. Didn’t want to answer.
He stopped at the intersection of St. Mary and Congress. Blythe could feel him looking at her, willing her to speak.
“Does Seth still live at home?” he asked. He was still watching her, so she nodded. It was safer than trusting her voice.
“Wow… so he and Cal have to room together again?” Nate aske
d, surprising her with his insight.
“Yes,” she managed, keeping her eyes from him. “They hate it, as you might imagine.”
Nate gave a half chuckle. The sound made her turn. She’d always loved the sound of his laugh. It triggered a rush of memories.
“I’ll bet.” His eyes met hers, and she watched his gaze narrow on her. “They aren’t giving you a hard time, are they?”
In a flash, Blythe remembered a dinner at her house. Nate sat beside her, holding her hand under the table. She enjoyed a grilled portobello and a baked potato while everyone else ate T-bone steaks. Toward the end of the meal, while her eyes were locked on Nate’s, 13-year-old Seth decided to spoil the moment by sticking a gristled T-bone in her face. Before she saw him coming, he’d actually touched the thing to her mouth, but it was gone in an instant. Nate had ripped the bone from her brother’s hand and set it on his own plate, giving Seth a murderous glare.
Blythe remembered the feeling of dissolving — of actually losing herself in love as Nate had taken his napkin and wiped the smear of grease from her lips. She’d never had an ally at that table, and with a smile, she’d imagined all the years ahead of her with Nate by her side.
Fool, Blythe spat at her eighteen-year-old self.
“I can take care of myself,” she told Nate, pulling her gaze away.
“I’d be happy to talk to Seth,” Nate said with an edge in his voice she’d never heard. It threatened to undo her. She had to get control.
“I don’t need your protection,” she said coldly.
I don’t deserve your protection.
She bit her lip at that thought and held her breath.
“You’re right,” Nate whispered, his voice full of self-censure. He was going to kill her. His remorse burned her. His innocence slayed her. She couldn’t take it.
“No, no… I’ve been rude,” she said.
He turned onto Adrienne Street, pulled onto the curb in front of her house, and threw the truck into park.
“You have every right to be—”
“No, I don’t, Nate.” She heard the flint in her own voice, and when she glanced at him again, she saw the same look of confusion in his eyes he’d worn when she had begged him to stop apologizing.
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