Page 36 of Craving Oblivion

Yes, I’d been wrong, too. So very wrong.

No one, me included, had considered how those words, those images impacted Nash. I swallowed, realizing the disservice we’d all done to the young man searching for his way, longing for acceptance and connection.

He slid his palms across my shoulders and up the sides of my neck. He cupped my cheeks, his thumbs against my temples. “I couldn’t articulate it back then because the only word I knew represented what had happened to my parents. I was too afraid of what that could mean for us. But I understand now that you’ve always been my person, my love, my home.”

17

Nash

Relief rushed through me. It felt so good to finally say that. My fingers eased off Aya’s cheeks, and I smoothed my palms up and down the soft skin of her arms, worried I’d left bruises when I’d grabbed her. Caring for another—or myself—wasn’t something I’d focused on in recent years. But inherently, I wanted Aya to be safe. Safe and happy. Preferably near me. Scratch that. With me, on me.

The opening refrain from Coldplay’s “The Scientist” drifted through my head, the soft piano building to Chris Martin’s melancholy lyrics. Beautiful as that song was, it was soon overwhelmed by Lewis Capaldi’s “Before You Go.” It still seemed to fit Aya’s understanding of me then. I wasn’t sure how to fix that. I rarely cared what people thought of me. I didn’t need to. But Aya’s opinion mattered.

I cleared my throat. These fucking emotions, the songs battering my brain, wreaked havoc with my ability to communicate, but I persevered. I had to. So much needed to be conveyed before she tried to bolt again.

Which I understood. Fuck, I understood Aya’s need to hide away better than anyone. She had slid into numbness just as surely as I had downed liquor and pills to get to the same place.

“I’ve needed to say that to you for years,” I told her. “I should have said this long before, too. I love you, Aya Jane Aldringham. I didn’t say it before because of my fear of messing us up. Turns out that destroyed us, and I can’t let it sit between us any longer. I can’t, pretty girl.”

She stared up at me, her eyes wide, guileless, burning into my deepest, darkest secrets. They were all about her, so really, she had every right to them.

She inhaled hard through her nose. “You’re right. It was fear.” She clasped my wrists, her fingers cool, her grip strong.

“I’ve never said ‘I love you’ to anyone since Lev, and I only said it to him when he was in a fucking coffin.” I paused, considering my relationship with words. I wove stories with them, evoked emotion in others. Yet in my own case, three words had destroyed my world.

Her face softened, and her lips parted. “Oh.” The sound escaped as if she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

I brushed my knuckles over her cheek, trying to ignore the flurry of nerves blooming in my belly. “I wasn’t ready for you. Not if I wasn’t willing to admit my feelings for you. I see that now.”

Her eyes closed, and a small pucker formed between her brows. Good. She was listening to me.

“When you disappeared, I pretended I didn’t care because I knew if those little punks realized how much I needed you, they’d…” I pressed my lips closed. “That was my fear, residual from high school and courtesy of Lord Prescott, but it doesn’t matter. What you need to know is I was hurting. I thought you’d broken your promise to me. By the time I realized... I hurt us both, Aya. I cut myself so deeply I needed years to find my footing. If nothing else, can you believe that?”

She remained still. After a long moment, she opened her eyes and studied me. Her gaze started at the top of my head and swept over my face—like one of those facial recognition scans—before returning to my eyes, holding them, searching. I held still, doing my best not to shut down. I desperately wanted to, though, because letting Aya in was the most vulnerable I think I’d ever been.

I thought I’d given her my heart that day I’d first talked to her about Lev, and in a way, I had. But I hadn’t realized then how much trust I’d put in her, nor had I realized how careful she’d been with me. Not until I smashed us all to hell. But I was done being careful. I had to be. Now was the time for boldness, honesty, abandon.

“I’m glad you didn’t drown… You’re pretty.”

That vacation, when I was five, maybe six. That’s when I fell in love with Aya. My words had been simple but, she and I had clicked. And somehow, we’d reconnected in high school.

Regret swamped me, making my throat tight and achy.

Aya’s nostrils flared, and her eyes seemed to beg me for...something.

“What, love?”

That endearment suited Aya and her place in my life as my top priority. I wanted to smile, but she was still skittish, obviously hurting. I pressed my mouth flat instead.

“I’m scared.”

Her voice cracked, and my muscles tensed. I needed to soothe her.

“Of what?” I asked.

“You.”

18

---