Page 31 of Fierce Love
“No problem,” I say. “A fresh slate, right? All work.”
“Right,” he says, and clouds brew in his eyes. “That’s what you want? A fresh slate?”
“Wipe it clean,” I say, and really that’s to my benefit more than his. If we pretend the past never happened, I don’t have to reckon with my choices.
He licks his lips and then takes a deep breath. “I can do that.” He stands and then immediately sits back down. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this, but if we’re wiping it all clean—pretending none of it ever happened—I’m going to ask this once and let it go. Whatever you tell me, consider this the end of it, okay?”
I swallow and nod. Unease washes over me. There’s no way that his next question is going to be simple or easy.
“Why did you leave so suddenly? Why did you leave me one voicemail and then disappear?” His voice is gritty by the end, and I can’t tell if it’s anger or hurt making it sound so raw.
I close my eyes to block out the sight of his hurt—the coward’s response—but it’s the only one I know where he’s concerned. Tuck my tail and run. “We were too different. We were deluding ourselves. I needed a clean break.” I almost tell him that Celia Tucker would never have let us work out, which is true, but it’s not the whole truth. Being unable to tell Nate the granular truth is the price I paid to get what I wanted, so it’s best to keep the past buried. I might not be the poor girl I once was, but I’m still the daughter of criminals, still not fit to be a Tucker. “In your mind, our breakup might have been this big dramatic thing.” I swallow again, desperate to keep any emotion out of my voice—I have to sell this. “But in mine, this was the way it was always meant to go. I ripped off the Band-Aid.”
His jaw tics, and he rises to his feet again. He scans my face for a beat, and I wonder whether I’ve given the truth away—that it was nothing like what I’m telling him. There’s a grain of reality in my words and nothing more.
“Consider the whole thing erased,” he says. “I suppose we’re more strangers than anything anyway.” He heads for the door, and I rise to my feet to follow him, fighting the urge to tell him to wait, to let the real events spill from my lips.
But I made promises, deals that got me to where I am now. Nate was my sacrifice, and even if I told him everything, I don’t see how even he could forgive me for the choices I made. Now that I’m faced with the damage I did, I find it hard to forgive myself.
He’s out the door before I can get there, fleeing the scene of my crime. I press my back against the door and fight tears. How is it possible that the price I paid years agonowfeels too high? Back then, it felt high but necessary. Hindsight and age make me wonder whether I was just too young and inexperienced to see other options.
The past is such a tangled web of coincidences and lies and sacrifices that it’s impossible to untangle it all in my mind. One change would have had massive repercussions for me and others. Luckily, Nate has vowed to let his questions go, and he’s not the type to go back on a promise.
But I might be.
Secrets have a way of rising to the surface, especially ones that did as much harm as good.
As a teenager—despite my better judgement—I hadn’t been capable of staying away from Nate, of keeping either physical or emotional distance. He was the sun, and I bloomed under his attention. Grew in ways I didn’t know I could.
And as much as I wish that particular truth didn’t still hold true, it appears it does. He’s back in my life, and my world already feels brighter and warmer than it has in years.
The past can’t just be erased by declaring it so.
Chapter Fourteen
Hollyn
Fourteen years ago
At my insistence, we’ve stayed in areas of Tucker’s Town and the island that make me most comfortable. We avoid the rich areas. We also avoid the places my parents and their associates hang out. Whatever this is can’t last, and I’m happy to keep shunning reality, all the reasons we can’t work. We both know what this is—a summer fling.
For a fling—so far, a sexless fling—he’s been very committed. From the minute he showed up at the bar the second time, there’s been no cooling off, no game-playing to see if I’ll chase him instead.
I’ve seen him every night for the last two weeks. If he’s not sitting in the bar while I work and then driving off with me at the end of the night, he’s at my apartment door, begging me to come out with him. He has absolutely zero shame in literally begging through the speaker when my aunt isn’t home, and it’s probably the most adorable thing any guy has ever done for me. Any hint of cautiousness on my part only seems to make his behavior more extravagant. He thinks I’m trying to hide us, and I am, but not for whatever reason he probably thinks.
Tonight, we’re headed to a coffee shop that’s open twenty-four hours in the heart of the working poor neighborhood where I live. I’ve tried to avoid any place where people might be familiar, might notice me with Nate. My aunt was right—if my parents see him, realize that I’m with him—I might lead myself into trouble I don’t want.
It’s late enough after my shift at the bar that the coffee shop is mostly empty. Nate holds the door open for me as I enter, and while we’re standing in front of the counter, reading the options, Nate says, “I’m going to start calling you my girlfriend. Just so you know.”
“No, you’re not,” I say with a laugh of disbelief, and then I step up to the counter to order a bagel and a coffee.
He orders a coffee and a donut, and he hands over money before I can get mine out. I don’t argue with him because being here is an extravagance I don’t normally allow myself. I could get the same things for far less from a grocery store. We take our food to the table that’s farthest from the counter.
“I knew if I asked you, you’d say no, so I’m telling you instead.” Nate takes a seat across from me.
“That’s not how labeling a relationship works,” I say, sliding right back into the conversation.
“You agree that we’re in a relationship then.”
