Page 87 of Fragments of You

“I’ve worked really hard to atone for the things I’ve done, P. I hope you can see that.”

“I can.”

“I know I can’t change what I did, but I’ve spent every single day of the last four years trying to be a man deserving of your love.”

“You never had to work for my love, Nash. You’ve had it since we were kids. I don’t think there’s a single thing you could have done to make me stop loving you. Everything you’ve told me, everything you’ve been through, it doesn’t make me love you less. It makes me love you more. Because it shows me how resilient you are. How strong you are. I’ve known it since the moment we met. I’m just happy that you can finally see it too.”

“I fight because you’ve shown me there’s a life out there for me that’s worth fighting for.”

“If you could go back and tell your younger self one thing, what would it be?” I ask.

He thinks on that for a brief moment.

“I think I would tell myself that sharing your darkness makes escaping it a lot easier. If I could do it over again, I would never have taken that first sip of whiskey or swallowed that first pill. At the time, it was the only thing that numbed the pain. I was too blind to realize it then, but I had everything I needed to survive right next to me. I was just too self-absorbed to notice.” He blows out a hard breath. “What about you?”

“I would tell myself to wait for you.”

“P...”

“I’m serious. If I had just waited, things could have been so different.”

“But if things were different, maybe we wouldn’t be here right now. If I had never known what it meant to fight for you, then I wouldn’t know how to fight for myself. You did what you had to do to survive. I’m just so fucking thankful that you did.”

He doesn’t have to say that he’s thinking about my letters, the ones I wrote him after he left. I was in a really dark place, darker than I’d ever been before, and while it shames me to admit, there was a point where I almost gave up. Felix is what kept me from slipping over the edge. So I guess, in a way, I owe him my life. There won’t be a day that I’m not at least grateful for that.

“We both did.” I reach for his hand, which he readily gives. “Now the real question is, will we survive the remainder of the evening?” I tease to lighten the mood.

“With Celine being the center of attention, it’s hard to say.” He chuckles, following my lead into much easier conversation.

“I’m just glad my parents decided to throw her graduation party the same day as graduation so that we can get it all over with in one fell swoop.” The drive is over way too soon as Nash pulls his truck onto the curb outside of my parents’ house.

“At least you’ll have me to keep you company.” He grins.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” I narrow my gaze at him.

“I guess that depends on what you want it to be.” His smile turns wicked.

“Well, the last graduation party we attended together didn’t quite go as planned. Maybe today is the day for redemption?” I unlatch my seat belt, pushing the door open.

“Oh, I’m counting on it, P.” The way he looks at me this time has my nerves misfiring in rapid succession.

With a shaky smile, I slip out of the truck before Nash can even kill the engine.

I expected to feel a lot of things seeing Nash again, and boy have I ever, but nothing could have prepared me for the intense desire that swam in my stomach at the sight of his dark gaze and crooked smile.

God help me...

I swore to myself that I would take things slow. That we would ease back in and see how things go. But now, I’m ready to throw myself back into the flames with reckless abandon, consequences be damned.

Chapter Twenty

Nash

TRYING TO REFRAIN FROM touching Paisley is like trying to hold your breath. You can never do it for more than a few seconds, and even then, it’s difficult as hell.

After four years of not being able to look at her, smell her, hear her, touch her, my senses feel completely fucking overwhelmed by her very presence. The smallest graze of her hand and my body feels like I’ve touched a live wire.

The further we get into the evening, the more tightly wound I become. I’m desperate to taste her lips, to feel her pressed against me, to hear the sound of my name as it drags past her lips.

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