Page 44 of Free

Her words knock the wind out of me. “Are you implying it’s my fault you got involved with that jerk?”

“Wow, Nick.” She shakes her head, the sarcasm in her tone razor-sharp. “I might need another beer for this conversation.”

I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Like I said, feel free to tell me to fuck off.”

She looks at me for a long moment, then takes a long swig of her beer, exhaling as she lowers the bottle to her lap. “Davis felt safe.”

Her voice is quiet now, and the vulnerability in it twists something deep inside me.

“There was the romance of it,” she continues. “My childhood crush, sweeping me off my feet. And Davis has charming down. After, um… after you, he was as predictable as a Hallmark movie.The crazy spark wasn’t there like it was with you, the one that threatened to burn me up. But he had money, a job that didn’t send him to war zones. He was safe. Quiet. And I think I needed that.”

She shrugs, her gaze drifting to the horizon, the breeze tugging at her hair. There’s no anger in her voice, no bitterness. Just raw honesty.

I reach over, placing my hand on hers. “I’m sorry,” I say, my voice low.

She looks at me, her heart wide open.

“After my accident…” I begin, but the words stick in my throat. How do I explain what it was like? The pain, the fear, the overwhelming sense ofnothingnessthat swallowed me whole? How do I tell her that I didn’t just wish I’d died with my friends, that I begged for it? Prayed for it?

“I wasn’t in a good place, Charlie,” I finally say, my voice breaking. “You were better off without me.”

Her brows furrow in frustration.

“You’ve spent your whole life helping people,” she says softly. “Your family. Your friends. Your country. I loved you, Nick. And in your weakest moment, I wanted to be there for you, but you wouldn’t let me.You didn’t even give me the chance to decide if it was too much. You just shut me out. Do you know what that felt like? Loving someone who wouldn’t even let me try?”

Her words cut deep.

“I didn’t know how to let you in,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I was drowning, in pain, grief, fear… I couldn’t see a version of us where I wasn’t dragging you under the water with me. I saw the wreckage I’d become and thought, ‘God, she deserves better than this.’ So I gave you a way out.”

The waves roll in, unchanging, relentless, just like the pull I feel toward her. I’ve spent so long trying to keep myselfanchored, trying to keep the tide from pulling me under, but sitting here with Charlie, I’m not sure I want to fight it anymore.

She exhales, shaking her head as she looks out at the waves. “It’s always been complicated, hasn’t it?”

I want to give her more, to lay it all out there, but the words catch in my throat. What if letting her in means losing her all over again? So instead of saying anything, I nod my agreement and tip my beer to my lips.

Sunshine stirs at our feet, letting out a soft huff, and we sit there in the quiet, the ocean crashing in the background as the night wraps around us.

TWENTY-THREE

Charlie

I leave Nick’s house and drive aimlessly, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles ache. The sun dips lower, casting shadows across the quiet streets. I’m not ready to go back to Angela and Garrett’s yet. Not with this mess of emotions simmering inside me.

My mind ricochets from moment to moment: the way Nick kissed me, the feel of his hand cradling my cheek, the warmth of his voice when he asked me to stay. The strange sense of belonging I felt sitting on his porch, watching the waves crash while Sunshine sprawled at our feet like we’d always been a trio.

I can’t stop replaying the kiss. The way it felt like stepping into something bigger than myself. Magnificent. Terrifying. Real.

What the hell am I doing?

My heart and mind are at war—one pushing me toward Nick, the other screaming to stay away. It doesn’t help that everything else in my life feels like it’s in free fall. I don’t even know whereI’m going to live next month, and here I am, practically floating out of his house like a lovesick teenager.

The man has barely spoken to me for a year. He ghosts me, shows up unannounced in yoga class, kisses me like I’m the only thing that matters, then falls back on those cryptic, half-finished explanations for why he pushed me away.

And I let him.

I should have pressed him for more. I deserve so much more than,“So I gave you a way out.”

What does that even mean?

---