Page 9 of The Question of Us
I stared him down. “Like you did?”
“And look where that got us,” he reminded. “Let the police handle it.”
I raised a brow. “You mean the same police who currently say they have zero power to act and aren’t looking that direction anymore.”
Nick groaned. “Jesus, you’re relentless. Have you forgotten this all began with Davis, and he died because of it? You’re not Davis and it wasn’t your problem. You were never meant to be involved, and I don’t like the idea of you stirring the pot and putting yourself back in harm’s way. I want this to end, Mads. Is that such a bad thing? I lost Davis. I don’t want to lose you to thesame arseholes that fucked up his life and mine. Can’t you just let it go?”
I tried not to flare up but... yeah. Stable, door, horse, bolted. Not a chance. “Yes, it was your mystery to start with. Yours and Davis’s,” I said coldly. “But that’s not how it finished. You brought it to my door and it’s me they kidnapped. That makes it my problem too. And what it sounds like to me is that it’s all hunky dory whenyou’redriving the questions and the investigation. Whenyou’rein control. Whenyouhave a need to know. Whenyouwant closure. But that it’s not all right whenIdo?”
Nick blinked. “No . . . I didn’t mean . . . well . . .”
I slipped from his arms and put some distance between us. “Just to be clear, I don’t need your permission, Nick, and I’m not asking for it. But you’re right, I’m not Davis. I’m not going to simply ignore your hurtful comments and jolly you along like you said he did. More power to him, but that’s never been me. If you don’t like it, then we have a problem.”
“I never said?—”
I held up a hand. “I get that we’ve been thrown together in a way that short-circuits normal dating protocols. I get that there’s a lot going on for you, grief included. And Lord knows I’ve tried not to pressure you. I’ve given you your space, what you said you needed. Three weeks of space. But in case you missed the memo, Ineedconversation. Ineedto talk about things. Important things. Like the fact I could’ve been killed. Like how that feels for you, but also how it feels for me and why I can’t let it go.” I hesitated, then blundered on, “And I need to talk about why you won’t touch me.” A cloying silence filled the kitchen and Nick shuffled awkwardly on his feet. I sighed. “My close call isn’t just about you, Nick. It’s primarily aboutme. So, us talking about it, aboutallof it and how it affects us, isn’t too much to ask, don’t you think?”
His pained expression said it all. “No, it’s not. And you deserve that. But it’s hard for me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Colour me shocked.”
An almost smile broke over his lips, but it was gone in the blink of an eye. I took a deep breath and counted to five. “You weren’t the one who was kidnapped. I was. You didn’t see Lee on that boat. I did. And you don’t understand how I’m feeling, mostly because you seem to not really want to know, other than telling me not to feel guilty.”
He paled. “I know. Jesus, I’m so sorry.”
I reached for his hands. “Look, I might be right about Lee, and I might not. But I have to find out because if I were in his place, I’d hope someone would do that for me. I thought we were on the same page, but clearly we’re not.” I paused and reached for his hands. “You don’t think you could’ve maybe mentioned it somewhere along the line rather than ambush me in front of Gazza?”
Nick’s cheeks blew hot. “Yes, I should’ve said something. But what difference would it have made? Your mind is obviously made up.”
Except it hadn’t been, not until I’d felt his resistance, his need to control me, and I wasn’t sure what that said about us. He licked his lips and looked away, and for a scary moment, I imagined not ever feeling the sweet touch of his mouth on mine again. The thought didn’t sit well but it was too late to go back. Too much had been said. The ball was in Nick’s court.
When he finally looked up, there was such sadness in his eyes that it almost took my breath away. “If you decide to go, I won’t be joining you.” He swallowed hard. “I... can’t. If something happens over there, if I lose you too, I’m not sure I could survive that.”
It hurt more than it should’ve because his point was valid, but my heart sank all the same. His decision pointed to morethan just this one thing. If Nick had to protect himself in that way, then it meant he couldn’t be with me even if I went on my own. It meant that maybe we were done, and I was reminded that many things said in the warm flush of attraction don’t survive the cool thrust of reality.
I swallowed around the lump in my throat and blinked away the tears. “Just as well I didn’t ask you to come with me then, isn’t it?” I bit back, deriving some satisfaction from seeing the sting of my words hit home. “Funny how a brush with death, all those heartfelt admissions, and a promise to see if something could work between us came with an expectation you might actually want to have my back. I get the reasons you think you can’t, but I’m not sure where that leaves us.”
Nick stared at me, wide-eyed, a battle raging in those grey depths. But it was his battle to fight and I couldn’t help him with it. All I could do was hope. It wasn’t enough. I recognised the second his heart shuttered down, and dread filled my belly as a cold wall fell between us.
“I think maybe I should go.” Nick glanced at the cold omelette, then back to me, his expression hard to read. “There’s stuff I need to do at home. Work and... things. Maybe a few days apart will help... clarify things. I’ll, um, take Shelby with me.”
And there it was. The sound of doors slamming shut on all those promises. Nick had, of course, been home several times over the previous three weeks, but only for the day and never with Shelby, the cat that I’d wishfully begun to think of as ours.
“Of course.” I held his gaze. “Are you coming back?” I baldly put it out there, daring him to be honest, because none of this made sense. If he was prepared to walk away rather than talk this out, we never really had a chance to begin with. How in the hell had things moved from a tender embrace less than an hourbefore to the sense that Nick was walking away... again? The man needed a damn leash.
“I... I’ll call you.” His eyes held mine. “I’m sorry, Mads. Don’t give up on me, please. I just need to get my head on straight.” He stepped forward and cupped my face, his thumb tracing the line of my lips. “Please believe me when I say I never wanted to hurt you.”
Wanted.Past tense. Cold trickled down my spine but I met him stare for stare. “Well, we don’t always get what we want, do we?” I stepped back before he tried to kiss me. “Go and take your time, Nick. Have yourspace.” I almost spat the word.
He stared at me for a long moment, and it was all I could do not to fling myself into his arms and beg him to stay. To say I wouldn’t go to Melbourne. That I’d stay here and build a life with him. But what would that life look like?
He sighed and set about gathering his things while I took my cold omelette to the table and unenthusiastically picked at the soggy edges. The eggs tasted like dirt but at least it gave me something to do instead of falling apart, although the sight of Shelby going into her cage almost ripped my heart in two.
Why did this hurt so much after so little time?
When Nick was done moving his life in my house back into his car, he met me at the front door, his cheeks flushed like he couldn’t believe what was happening either. He went to take my hands but I moved them behind my back.
“I don’t know what to say.” He sounded as broken as I felt, and I believed him.
