Nets and Lies(49)

“You’re all rough around the edges and hard core, but you’re much more than that. You’ve got such a tender side and a good heart. I mean, like the way you’re around Mrs. Santoriello.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Oh whatever. She’s a sweet old lady. Anyone would want to be nice and do things for her.”

I shook my head. “No, they wouldn’t, especially most guys.” Staring down at my hands, I added, “I’m not even sure I really would.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yeah, it is. You don’t know the real me, Nick. And trust me, if you did, you wouldn’t like her cause most days I don’t.”

Nick extinguished his cigarette on the pavement and then turned to stare into my eyes. “Jo-Jo, we’ve already established I was a homeless drug addict a year ago. You want more of my sad story to convince you that you’re a saint? My mom left home when I was eight because my dad used to beat the hell out of her. Then I guess the crazy bastard felt guilty because he started drinking more and more until he literally drank himself to death two years later. Then I pinged around to several different foster homes, two of which were pretty much the bowels of Hell.”

His voice choked off, and he shook his head. “I’ve done horrible things to get drugs and booze—things that make me shudder just thinking about. So trust me, I’m sure there isn’t anything you could say that would make me hate you.”

Tears filled my eyes. Before I could stop myself, I reached over and wrapped my arms around him. “I’m so sorry, Nick,” I murmured into his ear. “You shouldn’t have had to go through all that.”

When I pulled away, he forced a small smile to his lips. “I’m not after your pity—just your friendship.”

I knew he had just unburdened himself with something really heinous, and the only way to level the playing field would be for me to share my story. I started trembling all over at the thought of finally coming clean with him. Hearing about what had happened to Melanie made me want to tell the truth now more than ever. I didn’t want to be like her—to have lies drive me crazy until I broke in two. But I feared that Nick would hate me for messing up a man’s life.

I stared down at the pavement. “Nick?”

“Hmm?”

“I-I want to tell you my story.”

When I glanced up, he was staring intently at me. “Are you sure?”

I nodded.

“Okay,” he said, as he took one of my hands in his.

I drew in a deep breath and let it all out. First, I told him how my dad had walked out when I was five. Then I told him about Carson beating me and the abortion I had a fifteen. Finally, I admitted my affair with Coach T and how I’d lied about being raped to punish him.

After I finished with every sordid and disgusting detail, my chest felt like it might cave in.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I fought the mortification that I’d actually admitted what I’d done. Rocking back and forth, I glanced at Nick to survey his reaction.

“Damn,” he murmured.

Oh God. He hated me. I’d told him the truth, and now he hated me just like everyone else. I sprang up from the ground. “Jordan, wait!” he cried. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back down beside him. When I dared myself to look at him, I found instead of the horror stricken look I imagined Nick’s expression was one of understanding. “Regardless of what you’re imagining in that head of yours, I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t.”

He shook his head. “I just needed a minute to process what all you told me.”

“And?”

“I won’t lie and say I’m not shocked because I am.” He pushed a strand of hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear. “It’s hard for me to fathom the Jordan standing before me would do something so awful and so hurtful.”

Tears stung my eyes. “I know,” I murmured.

“But that’s the old you, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then we can bury the Old Nick and Old Jordan.”

“I want too. I really do,” I cried.

“And you will.” He gave me an encouraging smile. “I am so grateful to you for opening up to me and owning your mistakes. That took a lot of courage.”

“I don’t feel courageous.”

“No, I’m sure you feel disgusted about what you did.”

I nodded.

“And that’s how I feel when I think about who I used to be.” He took my hand in his. “But I’m not that person anymore, Jordan, and neither are you. We were human, and we made mistakes.”

I snorted. “Yeah, well, I think the affair was a little more than a mistake!”

“Maybe it was, and maybe it wasn’t. I mean, it doesn’t really matter the logistics of how you f**k up your life. It’s what you do to change it.”

I cocked my head and soaked in his wisdom. Nick was only nineteen, but sometimes he talked like he was ninety.

He surveyed my expression before he continued. “Take Maya Angelou. She was even the madam of a whorehouse, but look at what she did with her life.”

“She was?”

“Yep, she sure as hell was.”

“Hmm,” I murmured.