Page 69 of The Meaning Of You

I shrugged. “It’s just a name, right?”

He crossed the floor, not stopping until he was standing directly in front of me. “It’s not just a name,” he said, almost sternly. “It’syourname. And that means it’s important because you’re important. Because you matter, Madigan. And you get to choose how people address you.” Those ash-grey eyes met mine and he lifted his hand to run the back of his fingers down my cheek, our faces so close it wouldn’t have taken much to bridge the gap and put my lips on his. “So, what’s it gonna be?”

I froze in place, a shiver licking its way up my spine as the tension between us spiralled. Nick’s pupils expanded; the grey pushed out to the edges as his breathing quickened. I almost leaned in, but stopped when I saw his eyes start to widen in surprise.

I held my place as his gaze travelled my face. Then he blinked, breaking eye contact. His hand fell away and he stepped back, those grey eyes no less intense for the added distance. He swallowed and cleared his throat but he never looked away. “Madigan or Mads?”

I kept a lid on my disappointment and met his level gaze with one of my own. “Like I said, Mads is fine. It’ll irritate me, but so do you. Seems fitting, now I think about it.”

He snorted, the gleam of victory lighting up his eyes and putting paid to whatever moment it was that we’d shared just a few seconds ago. “I think that means I win.”

I toyed with punching him but settled for “Don’t be a prick or I’ll rescind the invitation.”

A broad grin split his face. “No, you won’t. But I’ll keep out of your hair, anyway.” He nodded to the lounge but didn’t move. “And I owe you another apology.”

I raised both brows. “For which thing?”

He almost smiled. “For being a dick.”

I smirked. “You’re gonna need to narrow it down.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He shook his head. “For biting your head off when I wanted to call Lachlan. You were only trying to help and it wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.”

Oh.

He headed to the lounge without waiting for a response and I fled to the kitchen, pulse racing. I wasn’t a kid anymore and I didn’t do flustered, but Nick Fisher was giving me emotional whiplash. An arsehole one minute and a freaking mallow puff the next.

“Okay, so, this is weird, I get that.” I leaned on the countertop and whispered to the spirit of a man I’d never met, a man who’d known Nick far better than me. “But if you’re okay with...this... then I’d appreciate a few pointers here. He’s a bit of a dick, which I’m guessing isn’t news to you, so, you know, if you get a minute... some help maybe?”

Laughter echoed in my brain along with the words,Yeah, good luck with that.

“Gee, thanks.” I glared at the ceiling and then cleaned until the kitchen gleamed and my world felt a little more... balanced. Not talking to ghosts was a good first step along that path, although I’d never been one to close the door on any of that shit. The older you got, the more you realised that the world was a lot more complicated than you thought.

When I finally made my way back into the lounge, Nick was lying on the sofa, laptop open on his chest, eyes closed, lipsslightly apart, and fast asleep. I slumped into the chair opposite and studied him, this enigmatic man who’d walked into my perfectly ordered life and turned it the fuck upside down.

His T-shirt had snagged behind his back, exposing the soft rise and fall of his belly and that mat of blondish-silvery hair. The sight held my attention for far too long not to be creepy, but I eventually managed to drag it up to safer ground.

Even in sleep with his face relaxed, the strain of the last twenty-four hours was etched into Nick’s face. For the first time since we’d met, he looked every one of his fifty-four years. Still undeniably hot, but there was more silver in his hair and fresh lines of exhaustion carved deep into his brow. And he’d lost weight. His jeans hung looser on his waist, his jowls a little slacker. For all that he blustered and pushed people away, Nick Fisher hadn’t been doing as well as he’d wanted people to believe. The recent discoveries about Davis couldn’t have helped.

Davis.The man’s name rattled around in my brain more often than I would’ve liked, but never more than when Nick and I shared the same space. Before Nick came along, I wasn’t sure I believed in the all-consuming type of love that he described. I’d kind of dismissed the way he talked about their relationship, convinced it was nothing more than the product of Nick almost losing Davis. Four months down the track, I had to admit I’d been wrong.

The realisation was concerning to say the least. Because it begged the question of whether it was possible for me as well. Then again, the only man who’d ever interested me in that way was the one least likely to return the feeling. Nick didn’t seem to believe in a second chance at that kind of love, and I still wasn’t sure I believed in a first.

I circled the coffee table and removed the laptop from his chest. He muttered Davis’s name and rolled onto his side, buthe didn’t wake. I sighed and shook my head. Fifty-five years a bachelor, and when I finally fell hard for a man, it had to be one of the really complicated ones. I wanted Nick Fisher in the worst way, which didn’t bode well, and I wasn’t going to hang around and wait if he didn’t want me back the same way. I refused to play second fiddle to anyone, dead or alive, including Davis Minton. Nick would need time, no question. But that time wasn’t open-ended.

I manoeuvred the cushion under his head and draped a throw over his body. He pulled it tight under his chin and breathed out a long sigh, his eyes remaining closed. I tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear, then laid my palm on his forehead. He was cool to the touch, so I reached for the remote and adjusted the air con.

I thought about returning to my chair but instead parked my butt on the coffee table and watched his chest rise and fall in quiet sleep. It was the most settled I’d seen him since I found him on my deck, and for that I was thankful. Whatever was going on, I could only hope any fresh revelations didn’t flay Nick quite as badly as the question over his husband’s fidelity. Thankfully, it appeared Davis hadn’t been a stupid man, after all.

But me? Yeah. I had stupid all wrapped up and tied with a pretty bow.

I needed my head read.

Whatever Nick and I were doing, it was akin to a game of whispers where you never knew if you were getting the message right, and I’d always sucked at those. All I knew was that Nick Fisher troubled my heart in ways I didn’t understand. In ways that completely fucking terrified me.

He’d even given me an out, like he could see the train wreck coming clearer than me. A red flag for sure, and one I should probably have paid attention to. I had a good life. A life I loved.One I’d built to keep me safe and happy. But, turns out, I wasn’t as happy as I’d thought. And Nick Fisher was anything but safe.

I blew out a long sigh and peered into the box sitting on the coffee table next to me. The one with everything found in and around Davis’s car that fateful day. I stared into the jumble of books and papers and remembered Lachlan’s words.

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