Page 94 of Romancing the Grump
Summer doesn’t respond, but her hands keep stroking my hair, her fingers pressing into my scalp in gentle, soothing motions.
I should say more. Tell her what I’m feeling. Admit that maybe I’m not so opposed to the idea of relationships after all. But in my current state, I’m not sure I trust my words. My mind is too foggy, my exhaustion too heavy to fight.
So I just hold on to her.
I hold on and hope that eventually, I can figure out how to be enough.
How to be what Summer deserves.
CHAPTER 22
SUMMER
I wakeup just after two a.m. with a crick in my neck and a desperate need to pee.
Nathan is sleeping soundly beside me, his breathing deep and easy. He rolled off my chest sometime in the past few hours, but he’s still close—close enough that it’s easy to rest a hand on his chest, feel the reassuring rise and fall of his breath or lift a hand to his forehead.
I’m not sure his fever broke completely, but he doesn’t feel nearly as warm as he did when I first showed up. That has to be a good sign.
Moving slowly to avoid waking him, I slide off the bed and tiptoe to Nathan’s bathroom. I’m itching to explore, to see what I can learn about Nathan from his house and the way he keeps it, but honestly, I’m not sure it would do much good. Nathan’s place is clean and comfortable. But it’s only sparsely decorated. It could be an Airbnb for how impersonalit feels. Nathan might live here, but it doesn’t look like he’s made it his home.
I would understand it if he were living with the reality that, at any moment, he might get called up to the NHL. But I’ve read Nathan’s contract. The Appies won’t let him go. If he wanted to, he could likely play out the rest of his career right here in Harvest Hollow.
Heison the road a lot. Maybe he just hasn’t had time?
After using the bathroom, I pause in front of the mirror long enough to wipe away the smudged mascara from under my eyes. It’s pretty much raccoon-level bad, so I’m counting on the likelihood that Nathan was too sick to notice.
His father’s Stanley Cup ring is on the bathroom counter next to the sink, and I pick it up, hating the reminder of Nathan’s opposition to relationships. I half wonder if this has something to do with his impersonal home—like he’s averse to creating any kind of life off the ice. In a way, it’s weirdly noble. That’s the term he used when I told him why it took me so long to quit, so I understand. I know Nathan well enough to know he’s only motivated by a desire to protectotherpeople. But that’s completely unfair because he’s denying himself so much. And he’s denying everyone else—me,in particular—the opportunity to love him.
I put the ring back on the counter, then clean up Nathan’s shower, pulling the barstool out and picking up the wet towel he left inside. I wring it out so it’s dry enough for me to carry it to the laundry room.
Honestly, I don’t know how I made it through that shower. It was one of the most intimate things I’ve ever experienced. And it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that, under his towel, Nathan was naked. It was more just…the touch. The act of washing his hair. His complete vulnerability. He couldn’t even sit up all the way without leaning against me. He wasn’t making a move or trying to be close, he justneeded me.
And I really liked being needed.
Nathan is still asleep when I cross through his room and head to the laundry room, so I start a load of towels, then pull my leggings and tank top out of the dryer. They’re completely dry, so I could put them back on, but Nathan’s clothes are comfortable and soft and they smell like him, so I’m in no particular rush. His Appies t-shirt was only against my skin for a matter of seconds before I decided I would never be giving it back. It’s perfectly soft and is just the right length for sleeping in—pants not required.
You know. Unless you’re sharing a bed with a man who isnotyour boyfriend, pretending that you arenotfalling in love with him. In which case,yeah.Definitely put on some pants.
I drink a glass of water in Nathan’s kitchen, respond to Parker, who texted to check in earlier, then answer a text from Lucy that came in while I was asleep.
Lucy
How are things? Did you survive? Did HE survive?
Summer
He’s clean and whole and sound asleep. He’s very heavy. But I survived. My heart, on the other hand…
Instead of texting a reply, Lucy calls.
I quickly answer, whispering hello, then asking her to hang on while I tiptoe across Nathan’s living room and slip onto his front porch. Nathan’s teammates may say he can sleep through anything, but that’s never been the case around me, so I’d rather not take any chances.
“Hey,” I say once I’m outside. “Aren’t you still working?”
“Nah. The hospital’s dead, so I get to go home early. Is your patient feeling better?”
“I think so,” I say. “He’s still feverish, but he’s hydrated and sleeping peacefully.”
