Page 46 of Love and Other Lost Things

“I want to protect you.” He’d reached for his trousers on the floor mat and fished a foil packet from the pocket. It had taken him a moment to get it open, and a few more to get the condom on. Jane had loved that he’d seemed a little bit flustered, a little unsure. This was his first time. He’d waited for her, just like she’d waited for him.

And in the next moment, he’d gently eased inside her, checking that she was okay all along the way. It had hurt, a sharpness followed by a dull ache, but she loved the feel of him on top of her, the strength of his arms around her, and soon the pain had faded, replaced by a throb of pleasure.

“Jane,” Nik had murmured against her ear as his hips picked up speed. “Jane, I need to tell you?—”

“Yes, Nik,” she’d gasped, partly in response to his words and partly to encourage him to go faster, deeper.

“Jane, I love you.”

She came apart then, her body tensing and releasing with the most intense pleasure she’d ever known. A moment later he followed, collapsing on top of her, the two of them in a heap of arms and legs and sweaty skin, naive hope and pure happiness.

And now, a decade later, Nik wanted to know if she ever thought about it.

“Or did you scrub it all from your memory?” he asked. “Like you scrubbed me from your life.”

“I didn’t—” Jane began, but then she stopped and looked down at her hands. Because she had scrubbed him from her memory and her life. She’d been in LA for a few months when it had dawned on her that there was no going back again. Matteo, the nightclub, and eventually, Scarlett… they were her future. After that, it had become too painful to think about Nik, to remember how safe she’d felt when she was with him. To accept that the night she’d hoped would be the start of the life she’d imagined had turned out to be the end.

“I used to drive up here after you left,” Nik said. “I’d stare out at the view and wonder where you were. Were you okay? Were you happy?” He ran a hand through his hair. “And then I’d wonder if it was my fault that you left. If I’d done something that night to drive you away.”

“You didn’t do anything.” She reached out to grab his arm. “Nik, if you don’t believe another word I say, please believe that none of this was your fault.”

The fine lines around Nik’s eyes deepened and his face looked strained. “You broke my heart, Jane.”

Jane wrapped her arms around her midsection as if that would protect her from this pain. As if anything would.

“No, that’s not true,” Nik continued. “Breaking my heart would have been kind. You crushed my heart. You destroyed it. I spent a summer lying on the floor writing terrible poetry about you. I spent years after that—years—looking for you and agonizing over what had happened.”

And with that, another crack opened up in her own heart. All this time, she’d told herself that he was fine. That she was the only one who’d come out of this battered beyond repair. But to hear the pain in his voice, to know that she hadn’t been able to keep one more person she loved from hurting…

“I’m so sorry, Nik.”

“Sorry? Really?” He gave a humorless laugh. “We had plans. We made promises to each other. And you poured gasoline on them and lit a match.”

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

Nik’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s great. But you know what that sounds like to me? A bunch of useless words ten years too late.”

Jane felt a flare of anger. “If it’s not an apology, what do you want from me?” She narrowed her eyes in his direction. “Or did you just bring me up here to torture me over the memories of everything we lost?”

He reeled back against the driver’s side door. “Is that how you feel when you think about everything we lost? Tortured?”

“Of course I do, Nik. You think you’re the only one whose heart was broken? You never knew me at all if you believe that.”

“Oh, I knew you, Jane. I knew you better than anyone.” Nik leaned across the center console, solidly in her space now.

She met his eyes, refusing to back up. To back down. But instead of fueling their anger, something else burned between them. That same heat that had stretched across a narrow space just like this one. How had it been ten years, and yet it felt like no time had gone by? If she inched forward, would he still smell like clean cotton flannel? Would his mouth still burn against her mouth, her cheek, her neck?

They’d been kids the last time, fumbling in the darkness with zero experience and an infinite amount of passion. What would it feel like now, to lean over and press her lips to his, to feel the scrape of his beard against her cheek, his solid arms around her?

Judging from Nik’s sharp intake of breath, he was wondering the exact same thing.

He inched closer, the intensity of his stare pinning her in place so she couldn’t move away even if she wanted to.

“Nik.” She meant it to be a warning, but his name formed in her mouth like a plea.

Nik.

Please.

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