Page 167 of Seven Lost Summers
That pull in my chest hits hard. I hold her gaze. “Yeah, I will.”
She lets me go, and I turn to Alex, holding out my hand. “Later, little man.”
He grins wide, slapping my palm before we launch into our secret handshake—three quick claps, a finger gun, and the ridiculous hip bump he insists is essential.
I catch Xander’s eye. He is still holding that lazy grin.
“Don’t worry, pretty boy,” I say, moving towards the front door, saying it loud enough that my voice carries. “She turned me down earlier. You get to keep your crown for another day.”
Xander’s snorts. “Pretty sure she turned you down because she’s got standards, not because I’m in the way.”
I can’t help the laugh that slips out. I fucking love it. Nothing better than watching a man defend his girl with a grin sharp enough to draw blood.
Now it’s time to track down Nate and have the hardest fucking heart-to-heart of my life. Part of me hopes we can claw our way back to what we were. The other part knows I might be walking straight into the truth that there’s no going back. I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to say to Nate. Only that if I don’t do it now, I never will.
I shove the front door open and step inside.
The air carries the faint smell of burnt toast, which is nothing at all like Nate. He never burns anything.
I find him in the living room, sitting on the couch, TV muted, eyes pinned to the floor. His head lifts when he hears me, but there is no shift in his face.
I stop in the doorway, hands jammed deep in my pockets. My shoulders feel wired tight enough to snap. My hair is a wreck from dragging my hands through it the whole walk over, trying to rip the thoughts out of my head. It didn’t fucking work.
He leans forward, elbows leaning on his knees. “You good?”
A sound escapes that’s supposed to be a laugh, but it’s hollow. Fragile like something broken trying to pass for fine.
I take a few steps in, the air heavy enough to slow me down. My feet plant halfway across the room, as though the next move could set off a chain reaction. My hands stay buried, because if I let them loose, I’m not sure if I’ll start talking or start tearing the place apart.
“Can I ask you something?”
He nods. “Yeah, what’s up?”
My jaw flexes, teeth grinding until bone threatens to crack.
The words scrape their way out, sharp enough to bleed on.
“What am I to you?”
The air goes heavy, pressing in on my ribs until breathing feels optional. I ask it the way you ask a question you already know could shatter you, but you need the answer anyway.
He stands up slowly. The kind of slowness that says he knows I am seconds from falling apart.
“Theo—”
“No.” My voice rips through the space, raw and shaking. “Don’t feed me any of that vague bullshit, Nate.”
I’m coming apart under his stare, threads snapping one by one. I have never been this exposed, not even when Bianca died and he was the only thing keeping me from drowning. He has been my fucking rock since we were kids, and the thought of losing him now terrifies me.
“Because we kissed, Nate,” I say, stepping back to get oxygen I cannot seem to pull in. “And it wasn’t nothing. Don’t you fucking dare tell me it was comfort, or some other fucking excuse where we pretend it didn’t happen. It was real. And I don’t know what the fuck to do with that.”
Nate closes the distance until his breath brushes my cheek. Heat radiates off him, thick with the tension that’s been clawing at both of us. The weight settles in my chest, the fucking ache that’s been building for weeks.
“I know things have changed,” he says, his voice threaded with something I can’t name.
My jaw locks. My throat strains around a swallow that lodges halfway down.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “They’ve fucking changed.”
