Page 87 of Twisted Truths
She buries her head in her hands and shakes it. “You’re going to be the death of me Nash Stone.”
I laugh again. “Not a bad way to go, Hadley Jacobs. Death by orgasm.”
Hadley swats at my chest playfully. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I say, poking her in the side. “But if I get to wake up to the sight of you in my clothes every morning, you’re going to be my new favourite meal.”
Her stomach rumbles loudly, and she wraps her hands around it, blushing furiously.
“Speaking of meals…” I climb out of bed and grab my sweatpants, stepping into them. Once I’m dressed, I hold out my hand to her. “Let’s feed you.”
She lets me pull her from the bed, then searches for her underwear. When she goes to pull on sweatpants, I stop her. “My hoodie is like a dress on you, little possum. You don’t need more clothes. Besides,” I add, pulling her into me and pressing a kiss to the tip of her cute little button nose. “I’m not sure I’m finished with you yet.”
Her hands slide up my chest to wrap around my neck, and I love the way her fingers toy with the hair at my nape. It’s familiar yet foreign at the same time, and it makes my heart beat faster. “If that’s the case, then we better fuel up,” she says sweetly, batting her lashes at me.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
This woman drives me fucking wild.
After makingus a couple of omelettes, which we both shovel down like we haven’t eaten in weeks, I lean back in my chair, resting my hands behind my neck. As much as I’d like nothing more than to return to my bedroom and lose myself in Hadley all day, I know I have a lot of work to do with cleaning out my family’s belongings and sorting out all their affairs before we can head back to the States at the end of next week.
Now Hadley and Franklin are coming back with me, I’ll need to organise a bigger apartment. While my one-bedroom shoebox-sized apartment was perfect for a place to crash after killing myself at the gym and on the court, it’s way too smallfor the three of us, so I add calling Clay to my list of things to do.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Hadley says, collecting my plate and carrying it over to the sink.
I release a heavy sigh. “I need to start packing this place up.”
She leans back against the sink and looks over at me. “I’m so sorry, Nash. I know how difficult this must be for you.”
“Yeah,” is all I can muster up as a response.
I’ve been putting it off, gladly distracting myself with all the Gabriel and Hadley drama, but I know I can’t do that forever. I have no plans to return to Barrenridge after I leave, so I need to get everything in order for the sale of the property. Levi’s father-in-law has already offered to help with the sale of the livestock, and I’m so fucking grateful to him for helping run the land after everything happened.
Hadley comes up behind me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and pressing her lips to the top of my head. “I understand if you need to do this by yourself, but I’m here to help if you want it.”
A weight lifts off my chest. The difference between her offer and Levi’s is that she recognises this isn’t about obligation, it’s about grief. Hadley knows this is raw and deeply personal, and she’s not trying to force herself into the situation. She’s standing by me in it.
I swallow hard, tamping down the overwhelming emotions threatening to drown me once again. “I don’t think I can do it on my own.”
“Then we’ll do it together,” she reassures me. “But first we need to shower and get dressed.”
I grip her hand before she can move away and pull her into my lap, holding her tight and burying my head in her neck. “Thank you for always knowing how to make me feel better.”
Hadley lets me hold her until I’m ready to let her go, but then we go shower—separately, at her suggestion, so we don’t get distracted, much to my annoyance—dress and meet back in my bedroom.
“Where do you want to start?” she asks.
“Ziggy’s room, I guess. After going in there yesterday for clothes, it seems less daunting now.”
She offers me a sad smile. “You can do this.”
“We,” I correct her, linking my fingers in hers and pulling her in for a quick kiss.
“We,” she agrees.
I let her guide me out of my bedroom and down the hall to my sister’s. Armed with some packing boxes I found in the shed and some garbage bags, we get straight to work before I can overthink the task. Anything I can’t bear to part with or that I think Franklin might want one day—or when he comes to me with questions about his mum—I’m putting into storage. We sort everything else into piles to either donate or throw out.
Hadley doesn’t speak while we work, understanding how difficult this is for me as I go through Ziggy’s things. Every drawer, every scribbled note, every memory feels like peeling open a wound that hasn’t even begun to scab over.
