I flinch when Nick’s large hand closes over my fingers, warm and strong. “Here. I’ve got it.”
Reaching around me, he opens the door, but neither one of us makes a move to go inside.
“Nick,” I murmur, uncertain what I mean to say to him. There is so much I want him to know right now, but the words all jam in my tightening throat.
I’m sorry.
I’m scared.
I’m sick with the thought that we might be over. If not here and now, then very soon. When Claire comes home and I have to tell Nick that I’m homeless, jobless . . . a liar who’s strung him along this whole time, pretending I belonged in his world.
And I’m damaged. Not only from my stepfather’s abuse, but from the violent aftermath of that horrific, explosive night nine years ago. The consequences of those final hours he was alive will stay with me forever—even if my mother finally does get her freedom one day. My shame and my secret are scars I’ll never lose.
Nick needs to know that I’m a coward. This is the confession I truly need to give him. It’s the only one I might be able to make him understand.
“Nick,” I say again, my voice a threadbare whisper as I turn around to face him in the threshold. His eyes burn into me, unblinking, expectant. It’s a struggle to hold his gaze, but I force myself not to look away. “Nick . . . I’ve been basically on my own since I was sixteen years old. It’s not easy for me to trust. It’s not . . . it’s not easy for me to let someone in.”
“What happened when you were sixteen?” His eyes hold me, both tender and demanding. “Tell me.”
I swallow, wishing I could glance away, but his gaze won’t release me.
“Why were you on your own that young?”
I watch a tendon pulse in his jaw as he speaks. I’ve seen him haunted before, and it’s there in his eyes again. Shadows that shield whatever torment he’s been made to endure. Dark, private secrets he guards well—maybe as well as I guard my own.
“You’re asking me to tell you something I’ve never told anyone before, Nick.” I shake my head, feeling us slip back to where we started earlier tonight. “You’re asking me to tell you something that can’t be taken back.”
A scowl furrows his brow and that tendon that was pulsing before now begins to throb under the hard clench of his jaw. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’ll keep you safe, Avery.”
But he can’t. No one can. My mother did her best to keep me safe, and it cost her dearly. I can’t drag Nick into my past. At first, I couldn’t allow it because I didn’t know him, didn’t trust him. Now, I can’t let him in because I care too much.
I’m falling in love with him, and he’s asking me to tell him the one thing that could shatter that to pieces.
I cut away from his penetrating stare. It’s too painful to see the displeasure, the cool emotional retreat, settle over his handsome face.
“I’ve got business matters to handle in the morning,” he announces crisply. “If you want to continue this conversation, text or call me and let me know. I want to give you time, Avery, but I’m not a patient man.”
I nod, but inside, my heart is twisting painfully. When I speak, my voice sounds choked and small. “I don’t want this to be goodbye, Nick.”
“Then don’t let it be. I’m giving you the choice.”
I understand how much this offer is costing him. Dominic Baine is not a man who surrenders control to anyone. Yet he’s handing it over it to me. I want to accept it as the gift I know it to be, but my fear keeps me silent.
Instead, I reach up tentative to caress his cheek. He lets me touch him, a small concession that I latch on to like a life line. He’s disappointed with me, even angry. But our physical connection isn’t broken. Not yet, anyway. Not unless I am willing to throw it away.
It’s the last thing I want to do. But he’s asking me for the one thing I cannot give him. Not now. Not ever.
He stands stock-still, his expression guarded, schooled to a dangerous calm as I trace my fingers over the dark shadow on his jaw. Then he draws back, out of my reach, and places the apartment key in my hand.
“Goodnight, Avery.”
Chapter 38
After a restless night without much sleep and half the morning spent drifting around the apartment like a boat cut away from its anchor, I’m relieved to get a text from Tasha inviting me to swing by Vendange before the start of the lunch rush.
Seeing my friend is just the medicine I need today. God knows, I need some kind of diversion from my thoughts and my own miserable company.
Be there in twenty.