Epoch (Transcend Duet #2)(31)

I don’t have to feel what she felt. I feel him right now, and it’s the kind of pain that will never completely disappear. The ache in my chest will linger forever.

Nate snakes an arm around my waist and pulls me onto his lap, the same way he held me on his bed the first time I tried to tell him about Doug.

We hold each other like we’re just trying to hold onto life, like we’re holding each other together.

After long minutes, he eases his hold on me. I sit back until our faces are just a few inches apart. His hands cup my face like I’m someone very precious to him. I hold my breath. He’s not going to kiss me. I’m pretty certain of it. And I wish I could define what this is between us, but I can’t. Nor can I resist his touch. It’s like my body craves the familiarity of it. Is it just morbid curiosity and obsession over the story of Daisy and Nate?

Epic.

Tragic.

All-consuming.

“Thank you for finding me,” he whispers.

Why does he keep saying that?

My hands move to his shoulders. I just need to steady myself. I need to feel in control. “Do you really believe that? That I found you?”

His thumbs caress my cheeks and he smiles. It’s sad. It’s beautiful. But mostly, it’s familiar. “Yes.”

How can the touch of two different men reach my soul? I’m engaged to Griffin. I love him unequivocally. But when Nate’s hands meet my flesh, it doesn’t feel wrong, and maybe it should. It feels like he’s reclaiming something that’s his. It’s like he’s whispering an eerie “thank you for taking good care of her, but I’ll take it from here.”

And right now I want to melt into him.

Closing my eyes, I lean into his hold on me, ghosting my fingers along his arms. “Why did you say you loved Daisy as much as your wife? You married Jenna. You made a child with her.” I open my eyes.

Nate’s mouth settles into this pleasant smile, like he’s looking at his daughter, not her nanny.

“It doesn’t make sense, Nate. You should have loved Jenna more—so much more.”

“I think we love many people for a lot of different reasons. I also think people pass in and out of our lives to give us an experience. You were—”

“Don’t.” I pull my head back, tripping over a few things as I get to my feet. “Don’t say you. Say she.”

His brows knit together as he lumbers to standing. “I don’t care that your eyes are a different color. I don’t care that you’re fifteen years younger than me. You are my friend.” His voice tightens with the last word. “Some things last forever. What if our friendship lasts forever? What if the connection we have transcends time?”

I’m certain no what ifs have ever been more beautiful, except this one … what if he’s right?

“You taught me how to be a friend. You taught me how to love. You were my first kiss and my first heartbreak. You fed my hunger. You comforted me when my family fell apart. You convinced me to dream big. You were my absolute everything.” He frowns. “You didn’t give me a child, but you sure as hell gave me life.”

I bat away the tears before they escape. “I had this flashback. I was above you … my hair tickling your face. You wore the biggest grin and you said, ‘So, what are—’”

“So what are you going to do with me,” Nate says with a grin almost as big as the memory in my head. And I know now … he’s going to be okay.

“You used to wrestle with me. I’d let you pin me to the ground, or my bed, or a patch of grass and weeds on the old abandoned property. You’d say ‘ha’ so triumphantly. And I’d grin because there’s nothing I loved more than your hair feathering my face. I always said the same thing … ‘So, what are you going to do with me?’”

I smile. “And what did she say?”

“You licked me. It was weird. But with the most wicked intentions flashing in your eyes, you’d lick a path from my Adam’s apple to the tip of my chin.” He shrugs, twisting his lips to conceal his smirk. “What can I say? You were one odd chick.”

I shove his chest. “Stop saying you. That’s not who I am. She’s hijacking my brain, but I was not the odd chick who licked you.”

This.

We can do this. We can uncover the past together. And when one of us breaks, the other one will know how to glue all the pieces back into place.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN




Nathaniel


She’s here.

But I can’t really touch her.

She’s here.

But I can’t really see her.

She’s here.

But she’s no longer mine.

“Promise me you’ll stay away from Doug Mann. Promise me you won’t go anywhere by yourself until we get this figured out. Always lock the door when you’re here. Remember there’s a panic button on the security system keypad.”

Her jovial expression fades. “Don’t go anywhere by myself?” She coughs a laugh. “That’s a little hard to do. I don’t have a bodyguard.”

“You have family and friends. Find someone to go with you. Find someone to be at home with you. And if you can’t, then promise you’ll call me.”