Page 71 of Broken Hearts

“I am,” I reply, yawning, my body and my mind exhausted from the day. It will be something I remember for the rest of my life.

It’s still hard not to be overrun with guilt, but the feeling is slowly fading with each passing day. The memorial helped to ease some of it, knowing he loved me to the very end despite my flaws. I should have done the same, and from this day forward, I will hold that thought close.

Nate stands, reaching out his hand. I take it, and he pulls me up from the Adirondack chair, smiling as he does.

Weaving his fingers through mine, he leads me up the stairs to my dad’s house, which I guess is really just my house now. I swallow hard. The weight of this new life feels like a weight I don’t know how to carry. How do I manage this and my life in New York? But I can’t bear the idea of selling any of this.

I push the thought aside, knowing I have another week here to decide, even if a week feels like forever, but also a minute long all at the same time.

We get ready for bed in silence, brushing our teeth side by side. I slip into a T-shirt and my underwear, while Nate strips off his clothes, leaving him in only his boxers.

It’s simple and pure when we climb into bed next to each other, and my brain races with thoughts of how I’m supposed to sleep without the weight of his body next to mine, without his smell to soothe me to sleep, without the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It hasn’t been long, but I already know the sound of his heartbeat as well as my own, and all the hurt and love it holds.

I can’t leave.

In the darkness of the room, I whisper to Nate. “Tell me how you ended up with my dad.”

He’s told me bits and pieces, but he’s never fully exposed himself in the way I know he never wants to do. He’s private, and quiet, reserved and shy, but at times it feels like he keeps it to himself because it’s too painful to discuss.

“I’ve told you,” he whispers back, pulling me close to him, my back to his chest, the warmth of our bodies melding.

He lets out a sigh, burrowing his nose into my hair. He inhales, taking in my scent the way I do his. The comfort we both find in each other is something I’ve never known, something I don’t think I can ever live without.

“It’s hard, Sage,” he now says, his words taking on a softness, a painful mutter, a struggle to get them out.

“I know it is.” I turn in his arms, my hands resting on the hard plains of his chest, all muscles and ridges, perfection. “But I don’t want you to ever be afraid to tell me.”

“I never knew my father,” Nate suddenly starts, almost spurred on by the darkness of the room. “He wasn’t in my life, and I don’t know if that’s because he never knew about me or if he never cared.”

I run a hand up his chest, letting my fingers trail softly over his shoulders before moving them to tangle in his hair. My other hand finds his lips in the darkness, my thumb tracing the outline of his mouth.

I don’t say anything, not wanting to stop his train of thought. I want him to tell me everything. I want to take his pain away.

“And my mom, she disappeared when I was eight. I came home from school, and she was gone.”

I try to hold back the gasp I want to let out. What kind of parent just leaves their kid? How terrified he must have been at that age to come home to an empty house.

“It wasn’t that weird. She’d disappear all the time and then just show back up. But that time she never came home.” He pauses, his hands now tightening around me, his arms holding me to him. “I don’t really remember how I ended up in the foster care system. I think it was because I stopped going to school. Or it could have been the landlord since the rent wasn’t paid.”

Again, he stops, his fingers gripping the fabric of my T-shirt as if he’s worried I’ll leave. It has happened to him so much in his life, and it breaks my heart to think about it.

“And after that, it all went to shit. Not that it was ever great before, but I bounced around a lot, foster home to foster home. I was deemed difficult and volatile, I’m pretty sure ‘out of control’ was used often. I was medicated for ADHD, anxiety, depression, bipolar disorder. You name it, I was labeled it. I didn’t need meds, I just needed someone to care. Someone to not give up on me.”

I close my eyes, pressing a gentle kiss to where his heart drums a steady beat. I want to kiss away every broken piece of him, wanting to put his heart back together because he deserves it.

“The last place I was, the guy thought he could just beat the shit out of me and that would fix everything. Turns out abusing kids just fucks them up. Who would have thought?” Nate deadpans, his words clipped, and I feel his jaw tense. My fingers run over the tightness, and he relaxes under my touch.

“And that’s when Mitch showed up and took me in. He became my legal guardian until I turned eighteen, and since my life was such a fucked up mess to begin with, I thought he’d kick me out when I reached of age, but he never did.”

“He never would,” I whisper, knowing the man my dad was. The thought would have never crossed his mind.

“He made me a better person. He took care of me in a way that no one ever did. That is until you, Sage,” he now says, and my heart nearly bursts in my chest at his honest admission.

Taking his face in my hands, I can feel the wetness of his tears on his cheeks, and the tears that spill from mine, flood like a river.

“Thank you for filling the spot I left in my dad’s life,” I murmur, pulling Nate’s mouth to mine. I kiss him, sweetly, gently, softly and without words, I feel our lives intertwine.

“Thank you for coming into mine when I needed you most,” he whispers back, his honesty and vulnerability shining through. “He knew I was meant for you.”

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