Page 59 of Fragments of You

“At the moment, I’m going to get back to work before I get fired.”

“What? No, you need to go see Nash.”

“I still have an hour left of my shift.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’m scheduled off at four, and I’m happy to stay and cover your last hour.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered. You can pay me back by telling me everything on Monday. I’ll be waiting with bated breath until then.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely, I am! Go.”

“Thank you, Ashley.” I pull her in for a quick hug.

“That’s what friends are for.” She squeezes me back. “Now go.” She shoos me toward the door that leads back upstairs.

“Thank you,” I mouth as I whip around and take off upstairs, suddenly a woman on a mission.

I have no idea what I’m going to say to Nash when I get there, but Ashely’s right. The longer this goes on, the worse it’s going to get. I need to figure out what I truly want, even though doing so will hurt someone I love.

At the end of the day, I have to be true to myself. I can’t do something because I feel an obligation to. I have to do it because that’s what I truly want. And until I actually sort out my feelings for Nash, I’ll never be able to walk down the aisle and marry another man.

Felix’s face crosses through my mind like a photograph and for a brief moment, I second-guess myself. I would rather die than hurt that man. But even knowing that, I push on, knowing I’m not doing this to Felix. I’m doing it for him, even if it doesn’t seem like it now.

He deserves to marry someone who is all in. It’s about time I figure out if that someone is me. If it’s not, I have to let him go. And if it is, I have to find a way to let Nash go once and for all.

I’m on the cusp of a decision that could alter the course of my entire life. I better be damn sure it’s the right one.

“P?” THE SURPRISE IN Nash’s voice is almost as clear as the expression he’s wearing when he opens the door to find me standing on his front porch.

It’s so strange being here again. I was so certain the last time I left, I’d never return, and yet, here I am just a few short days later.

I take a brief moment to drink in the sight of him. White T-shirt streaked with dirt. Jeans that look like they’ve survived a war. A backward ballcap covering what I know to be thick, dark hair that I used to love running my fingers through. His scruffy facial hair. His icy blue eyes. The smudge of dirt along his left cheek. His dirty hands. God, even in a state of disrepair, he’s still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

I hate that that’s the first thought I have, but it’s true. I’ve always thought so. And while sure, maybe he’s not your typical version of beauty—all rough edges and hard lines rather than clean-cut and composed—to me, he’s perfection. He always has been.

It’s clear I’ve caught him in the middle of working, though he doesn’t seem to mind as he opens the door further, silently inviting me inside.

“Sorry to just show up like this.” I finally find my voice as I step over the threshold, a feeling of nostalgia washing over me the instant the door closes behind me, sealing me inside.

I didn’t spend a lot of time here as a kid or anything as my parents didn’t want me anywhere near Nash’s father, but every now and then, when his dad wasn’t home, we’d sneak back here and... Well, you can use your imagination.

This place may not be as prevalent as the rocks or the bridge, but there is still so much of our history trapped within the walls. So much so that I feel almost suffocated by it.

“You’re always welcome here, P, you know that.” I feel him behind me as I look around the room, which looks so much different than I remember.

The old, worn furniture is gone. There are no empty liquor bottles or ashtrays overflowing with cigarette butts, though funnily, I can still smell the smoke in the air. The old, stained carpets are gone, revealing the subfloors below, and from my vantage point, I can see the kitchen is in a similar state, the cabinets and countertops having already been removed.

“You’ve really done a lot of work here.” I move farther into the space.

“Yeah, it was in pretty rough shape when I arrived. I didn’t know if I should start working or burn the damn thing down.” There’s a hint of anger and sadness behind the words he tries to mask with humor.

“Are you going to sell it?” I ask, finally turning around to face him, wishing that my heart didn’t react the second our eyes meet. Unfortunately, the stupid organ has reminded me too often as of late that she’s the one in charge, whether I like it or not.

“That depends, I guess.”

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