Page 65 of Nathan

“Get out of my way.”

I shake my head and plant my legs wide in case he tries to shove me off balance.

“Talk to me.”

“I did!” he yells, pushing a hand roughly through his hair. “You think it was easy for me to tell you something I’ve kept to myself for seven fucking years? I didn’t tell you so you could lecture me on how fessing up to my brothers would make me feel better. It won’t. It’ll make me feel worse.”

“How, Nate? Because all I can see is that it would free you from this dreadful secret you’ve carried around with you for too long. Don’t you get that?”

“No, I fucking don’t.”

I expel a frustrated breath. The urge to hit him upside the head makes my palm twitch. “Your brothers love you, and you clearly feel the same way about them. Don’t you want to be able to look at them without thinking about what your mom did, and how you believe it’s tainted your relationship? Don’t you want to be a real part of the family instead of standing on the periphery, wishing you were, and hating that you’re not? Don’t you want to be able to live without secrets and show them the real you? To get back the closeness you had growing up?”

He visibly winces. “Fuck, Titch.”

Like a pricked balloon, his anger withers and dies. He sags onto the bed and lets his head fall into his hands. His pain is so raw, as though his skin has peeled off, leaving the exposed nerves to the elements. I rush to sit beside him and rest my head against his shoulder, half expecting him to shuffle out of my reach. Instead, he curves both arms around me and holds me tightly. His body trembles, and it’s only when I lift my head that I realize he’s crying.

I scramble onto his lap and let his tears soak my skin. From the way his sobs rack silently through him, I’d wager he’s never cried for what he’s lost: a whole history, a belief system, a sense of belonging. A loss of trust in the one woman every child should be able to have faith in without question. His deep-rooted fear he’ll be rejected by his brothers when they find out. No wonder he’s kept quiet for so long while his pain only grew and festered. And the fact he’s chosen me to share something so painful with is humbling. Like he said, it seems as if we’ve known each other years, not mere weeks.

Then again, souls who are meant to be together don’t need years to know they’ve found the other half of themselves.

He draws back slowly, his red-rimmed eyes seeking me out, and I cradle his cheeks, wiping away the remains of his tears with my thumbs. “You asked me to accept you for who you are? Well, I do, Nate. The good and the bad. You want to know why? Because I love you. I’m in love with you.”

The relief at finally saying the words that have been swimming around my head is immense, like a weight I’ve been carrying around for days has lifted.

He brushes my lips with his own. “I don’t deserve you, Titch.”

I lower my head, and my shoulders drop. I’d been brave and shared my feelings with him, and he hasn’t reciprocated. Not that I expected him to profess his undying love, but a tiny part of me, hidden in a deep recess of my heart, had dared to hope. At least he hasn’t run a mile.

I shrug. “You’re right. You don’t.”

A glimmer of a smile touches his lips. He skims the back of his hand across my cheek, his touch soft and tender.

“I feel the same. You know that, right? I don’t know when or how you wormed your way into my heart, but now you’re there, I’m guessing there’s no getting rid of you.”

Warmth radiates through my body, and my heart drums in my chest. “You can say the words, Nate. They won’t burn you.”

“You burn me. You’re the one, Titch. The only one for me. My everything.”

My heart skips a beat. Nate may never be the type of boyfriend who’ll tell me he loves me, but if these are the words he’s chosen instead, I’ll take them every single time.

“Then, do something for me.”

He presses his lips together and gives me a pained look. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“Good, then I don’t need to waste my breath.”

He shakes his head. “What have I gotten myself into with you?”

Grinning, I say, “Be honest. I’ve brought a lot of excitement into your sad and lonely life.”

He barks out a laugh. “You’ve brought stress, I know that much.”

I brush my lips over his. “It will work out, Nate. I know it.”

His throat lurches with a hard swallow. “I wish I felt the same.”

“Only one way to find out.” When he nods, my pulse leaps. “So, you’ll talk to them?”

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