Nash (Marked Men #4)(68)

“I did. One of the other girls came in early by chance, and I was worried about how you were doing after your visit.” There was a definite thread of accusation in her tone.

I frowned down at her, hurt she thought I would just substitute time spent with her with anyone that would do. She was the only one who made me feel better after visiting with Phil. I wished I could make her believe that. Royal peeked around both of us as the front security door swung open and a guy in work clothes carrying a toolbox poked his head in.

“Someone locked out?”

Saint shifted nervously in front of me as Royal slid past both of us. She winked at me and patted Saint on the shoulder as she walked toward her own door.

“Thanks for the rescue, Nash. He’s a good one, girlie, don’t let him get away.”

I took a step back and watched, literally watched, while Saint struggled with whether she was going to follow me inside or not. It was all over her pale face, and the indecision made me feel slightly sick. I decided if she didn’t come in, then this was it. I couldn’t do it anymore. I liked her—hell, way more than liked her—but this unknown, this chase, was just one more thing in my life that was heaping with complications. As much as I wanted this to work, just plain wanted her, at some point she was going to have to give me something solid to hold on to.

She reached up and started to pull out the tie holding all her copper hair up. She looked away from me and scooted by so that our chests barely brushed together. I closed the door and followed her over to where she sat on the arm of the couch.

“Thanks for coming over.”

She nodded a little by dipping her chin down.

“It has to be getting harder. Phil’s prognosis wasn’t very good when he left the hospital.”

I stopped by her side and reached out to put a finger under her chin. I forced her to look up at me, to meet my gaze. There were darker slate shadows behind the pearly gray as she looked up at me.

“I was just helping a neighbor out, you know that, right?”

She let her lids droop down so that I couldn’t really see what was going on in that complex mind of hers.

“It doesn’t matter. We don’t have that kind of claim on each other.”

There it was. I wanted more and she didn’t want anything. I felt my stomach drop and I stepped away from her. She followed the movement and frowned at me.

“That’s too bad, Saint. I wanted that kind of claim. I don’t know what this”—I motioned between us with a hand—“is all about, but it means something to me, and if you can’t say the same, then I don’t want to just be the dude you hook up with because I can get you off and no one else can. That’s not enough for me anymore, and frankly it makes me feel like shit.”

I walked to the front door, ready to pull it open and send her on her way for good. I was mad and upset and not bothering to hide it. I wasn’t in any kind of head space to separate how much of it had to do with her and how much of it had to do with what I was feeling because of Phil.

“I wanted to spend the night with you tonight because the only person that ever made me feel like I was worth anything is dying and I have to watch it and do nothing about it. Nothing makes that better. Nothing fixes it, but when I’m with you …”—I rubbed a hand over my face and used it to grab the back of my neck—“it hurts just a fraction less. You make me want to focus on the good, on the memories I have that make me happy, but this clearly doesn’t mean the same thing to you. You can’t even be bothered to stay the entire night with me, Saint. I get it, you aren’t into this the way I am, so you can go. Thanks for coming by.”

I had my hand on the knob and a sweltering heat was pulsing under my skin. I hated to see her go, but for my sanity and peace of mind, it was the right call. I was getting ready to yank the door open when she was suddenly between me and the wood. She put her hands on the center of my chest and splayed her fingers wide open. My heart sped up, started thumping harder, like it was trying to burst out of my chest and put itself in her hands.

“Nash.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“I can’t do it anymore, Saint. I don’t even know what it is.”

“I’m sorry. I really am. I don’t mean to push you away, to dismiss whatever it is we have. I just don’t know how to do this with you. I don’t want to be the jealous, fearful girl, but I am. I saw Royal and wanted to turn right around and never come back.”

Her hands moved up my chest and cupped each side of my face.

“It makes me feel better to think it wouldn’t matter if you were doing something questionable with her because we don’t mean anything to each other. It can’t hurt if we don’t have any kind of real feelings for each other.”

Her logic was ridiculous. Of course it could still hurt, because even if she convinced herself she didn’t have any feelings for me, her reactions still tore me up because I sure as shit had feelings for her.

“All I can see is you. Why can’t you understand that? No one shines as bright as you in the sky I’m looking at. To me there is no sun, no moon, and no stars in the sky, just endless miles of storm clouds and pretty, pretty gray.”

She moved her hands up higher and used her fingers to trace over the flames above my ears. She was trying to soothe me, trying to make the frayed edges come back together and put sutures in the wounds she had unwittingly inflicted.