“Welcome home.”
Dad smiles as he steps into the living room. He doesn’t even need me or the crutches anymore. He only needed some physical rehabilitation, but zero mental.
In ten days, he was able to walk, talk, and when Daniel and Knox came to visit, he even scolded them for cases they almost lost a few days before his accident.
He remembers everything.
The doctor said it’s because he didn’t have severe damage to his brain, which is why he was able to make a fast recovery.
And just like that, I have my dad back.
I still can’t believe it as we walk together into our home. Even though he’s wearing his shirt and pants, he doesn’t fill them like before. He’s lost weight and often appears wary, as if there’s something heavy perching on his shoulders. So I massage those shoulders, hopping now and then because Dad is really tall.
His critical gaze roams over the place, taking in every nook and every surface as if he’s searching for something.
Or someone.
I stop my hopping and step in front of him in an attempt to distract him. “How does it feel to be back home?”
“Different.”
“Different how?”
“It smells different.”
A ball the size of my fist gathers in my throat. Shit. It’s Dad’s weirdly sensitive nose.
I predicted he’d detect anything that’s out of the ordinary, so Martha and I scrubbed the house clean after Nate moved out. He left a few days ago when the doctor confirmed that Dad would be able to come home. Hell, I washed some of Dad’s wardrobe and sprayed my perfume and my father’s cologne everywhere. He can’t possibly smell him.
I’m just being paranoid, right?
Because if Dad finds out about Nate and me this soon, it’ll get ugly. The entire situation is already ugly. I don’t want it to be even uglier.
“It must be the cupcakes I made yesterday.”
“It’s not those.”
I swallow and link my arm with his. “Do you want some?”
“Sure, I missed your cupcakes.”
We go to the kitchen and he sits on the stool as I busy myself behind the counter, putting the cupcakes on a plate.
“I’m telling you, Dad. These cupcakes became a hit at W&S. I’ve been getting clingy texts the past couple of days because I was with you and didn’t bring any.”
“Who are the assholes who dare be clingy to my angel?” Dad takes a bite of a cupcake and a small smile twitches his lips. “Chocolate. I thought any flavor other than vanilla is blasphemy.”
“It is, but apparently, chocolate is popular.”
“Apparently. Presumptuous chocolate.”
“I know, right?” I lean over on the counter to watch him closely.
I’ve been doing that a lot lately, watching him, making sure he’s actually awake and right in front of me.
The thought of losing him again keeps me up at night.
After he finishes the cupcake, he sniffs the air, or more like, me. “That smell again.”
“W-what smell?” Shit. Damn it.
Dad’s eyes narrow on me the second I stammer. My heart thunders and the ball in my throat grows bigger until it’s blocking my breathing.
Oh, God.
Oh, God.
He knows. No clue what exactly he’s aware of, but it’s there in the dip in his forehead and how he’s flexing his fingers on the table as if stopping them from balling into a fist.
“Is there something you want to tell me, Gwen?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Oh, God. There’s a full frown in his forehead now and he looks to be on the verge of breaking all hell loose.
When I first married Nate, I wasn’t scared of Dad’s reaction, because I was doing it for him, to protect this house and his assets. However, that was before I gave Nate my virginity and my stupid heart that’s hardly beating right now.
That was before I really wanted the marriage.
So I don’t know how to bring it up. Nate told me not to say anything and that he would take care of it. And that was on the few occasions we talked after Dad woke up.
He went back to his workaholic life and I took care of Dad. He brings me whatever I need, leaves me milkshakes in the morning, stocks the fridge with ice cream, and asks me if I need anything.
But that’s all.
He’s never tried to touch me, not even by accident, and he’s kept his distance, even during the time he spent here before Dad came home.
And it hits me then. He seems content with the way I cut off our physical relationship.
He seems content with being Uncle Nate again.
Those thoughts have kept me awake at night—aside from my concerns about Dad—and no amount of lying upside down has helped me sleep.
Because even now, as I get swallowed in Dad’s severe gaze, I can feel the pieces of my broken heart digging into my ribcage as I choke out, “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Why are you clinking your nails then?”
I flatten my sweaty palms on the counter, but that gets me more narrowed eyes from him.
“It’s nothing, Dad. Really.”
“When I was in a coma, I heard voices.”
“Voices?” Holy shit. Does he remember everything I talked about while he was in a coma? While I didn’t mention Nate’s name for fear of agitating him, I did talk about us and about how much of a jerk he is and how much I love being in his company. Not to mention the conversation Nate and I had the night he woke up.
“They’re still chaotic up here.” He taps the side of his head. “But I’m organizing them.”
“You don’t need to. They were probably nothing.”
“On the contrary, I believe they’re important. So if there’s anything you have to tell me, do it now before I find out on my own. And I will find out, Gwen. I always do.”
Shit. Shit.
My hand goes to my bracelet and it’s like I can feel Nate through it. As if there’s a presence there. He said he’d take care of it and I believe him. Even if I hate him right now.
“There’s really nothing, Dad. Come on, let’s take a walk.”
He doesn’t protest, but there’s tension in his shoulders and stiffness in his strides.
After lunch, he goes to take a nap in his room. He does that now, napping, and the doctor said it’s normal.
I kiss his forehead, then I hurry downstairs to keep from having an epic meltdown in front of him.
The ball in my throat grows bigger and harder as I pace the edge of the pool, my sneakers slapping against the concrete with each step.
I’m clinking my nails again, and my palms are sweaty and cold. A million thoughts about how this will be disastrous sneak into my head, crowding it with my dark ones.
What if Dad will never forgive me? What if I lose him because of my stupid crush that ended before it even started?
“Don’t tell me you’re thinking about jumping again?”
I come to a screeching halt and whirl around so fast, I nearly fall backward. A strong hand wraps around my wrist and pulls me forward.
My sneakers make a squeaking sound as my head bumps against a solid chest. The same chest I hid in when I slept. The same chest I think about when I try to fall asleep and fail.
His scent hits me hard, its masculine notes of spices and woods turn my head dizzy and seep through my bloodstream so that it’s the only thing pumping in and out of my heart.
It must be because it’s been some time since I felt this or him. It’s been a long time since he’s been this close, surrounded me with his warmth, or touched me.
God. His hand is on my wrist. And it’s like a blazing fire is about to spread all over my skin.
It doesn’t, though, because as soon as I can stand on my own, he releases my wrist and steps back. There’s always some sort of safe distance between us now.
And I hate the distance.
I hate space.
But what I hate the most is the man standing in front of me, looking as handsome as ever in his dark suit, with his hair styled, and his face as hard as granite.
It’s because of him that I gambled with my heart and failed.
Or maybe it’s because of that stupid vanilla heart that’s still trying to revive itself back to life at the mere sight of him. Hearts don’t understand, do they? All they care about is staying alive, even if it hurts.
Even if it’s being slashed open in the process and all that’s left is blood with his scent mixed in it.
Then it hits me.
Nate is here.
Dad is also here.
Oh, shit.
“What are you doing here? Dad’s upstairs and you have to leave before he wakes up. He asked me if there’s something he should know about and he even said something smells different. No idea why he has that sensitive nose, but he does, and I nearly lost it and he knows, Nate. He knows something’s wrong, because he’s Dad. He knows things and I can’t lie to him. I can’t do this—”
“Hey. Deep breaths.”
I inhale, then exhale harshly, staring at him from beneath my eyelashes. “I…I’m scared. I’m scared of making him mad or losing him after I’ve finally got him back. It’s a miracle that he’s home and has recovered so fast, and I can’t…I can’t think of losing him.”
“You won’t. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Really?”
“Have I ever made a promise and not kept it?”
“No, you haven’t.”
“Then trust me one final time.”
“Are you…going to talk to him?”
“It’s about time I do. I waited for him to recover, but I need to be the one who tells him before he goes back to battling with Susan and finds out on his own.”
“Yeah, okay. I get it.”
“We’re going to be realistic here, Gwyneth. He’s probably not going to take it well.”
“Oh, God. He’s…he’s going to be so mad.”
“He will. But I’ll take the heat of it.”
“How…how are you going to do that?”
“I’ll say I convinced you to go ahead with this marriage and you only went along with my plans.”
“But that’s not true. I agreed to this and I’m able to take responsibility for it. I told you to stop treating me like a damn kid, Nate.”
“It’s not about that.”
“Then what is it about?”
“You can’t afford to lose him. He’s your father and your only family.”
That brings tears to my eyes because the meaning behind his words hits me straight in my barely-beating heart. He knows how much Dad means to me, so in order for me not to lose him, he’ll risk losing him.
He’ll risk being tossed aside for me.
He’d rather be abandoned again than have me go through it.
And that hurts. Because he’s not supposed to take the fall for me when he doesn’t do feelings. When he stopped touching me instead of trying to fight for me.
“I’m going to take responsibility for my actions, Nate. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for a fuck buddy.”
A muscle jumps in his cheek and he tightens his jaw. I can tell he’s pining for patience, because he breathes heavily before he speaks. “That’s not what you are, so stop using those fucking terms, Gwyneth.”
“That’s what people my age call a sexual relationship. Fuck buddies. Isn’t that what we were?”
“If you were my fuck buddy, I wouldn’t have honored your demands whenever I saw you. I would’ve pushed you on all fours and fucked you. So no, you’re not a fuck buddy.”
My core tightens at the image he’s planted in my head. I swallow because my heart is taking it as a fake sign to get back to life.
My body is definitely joining in because I’ve missed him. I’ve missed being fucked by him and sleeping in his arms.
But my brain is smarter, because it’s in control and it won’t compromise anymore.
“Then what am I, Nate?”
“The most infuriating person on earth, that’s what you are.”
“Infuriating because I won’t let you touch me?”
“Because you want fucking feelings. Why would you? From me? You know how broken I am. I’m empty, too. Like you said, I don’t like people to get close, because they leave. They fucking leave, Gwyneth. That’s why I don’t do feelings. So you’re not supposed to want them from me.”
“Don’t you understand? It’s because it’s you that I want them, idiot. We’re the same, you and I. That’s why we care about each other’s opinions. That’s why we sleep in each other’s company despite the insomnia. It’s because that emptiness isn’t allowed to make noise anymore, and it’s peaceful and right. Have you been sleeping lately? I haven’t. The emptiness has been so loud and harsh and I’ve missed you, but I’ve hated myself for it because you don’t miss me, too.”
“I do.” His voice is low, barely audible.
“What did you just say—”
Any other words disappear when he grabs me by the face, his strong hands cupping my cheeks as he slams his lips to mine.
A kiss.
He’s kissing me.
I’m so stunned that I can’t think straight. I can’t think about anything except that his lips are on mine. They’re firm and demanding and I open with a moan because he’s feasting on me, his tongue claiming mine while one hand is at my throat and the other is fisting in my hair, pulling it back so he can deepen the kiss. So he can reach places in my soul that I didn’t think existed before.
This is what it feels like to be kissed by Nate. He’s the one who erupts the volcano but doesn’t allow it to turn to ashes.
He’s the one who revives my vanilla heart and lets it breathe properly.
Freely.
With no restraints.
He bites down on my lower lip, and I whimper as he plunges his tongue inside again and pulls my body so it’s flattened against his front.
And I think I can die at this moment.
With him kissing me, claiming me, touching me in the way I always wished he would.
Like he cares.
Like he doesn’t want this to end either.
There are groans and moans and I don’t know whose they are, but I don’t care, because I’m too far gone to come back to the world of the living.
My hands are all over him, too, bunching in his shirt and hair. I kiss him as hard as he kisses me, not like the pure, innocent girl I was two years ago.
That girl with the measly crush is gone. She’s a woman now who’s not afraid to go after what she wants.
And now, I want this man with everything I have.
I show him that, kissing him back with the same fire he uses to claim me.
And then Nate’s suddenly pushed off me and I shriek as Dad punches him, sending him flying into the pool.
