Page 47 of Stuck with Me

Nico turns to look at me, one brow raised in question.

“The panic attack,” I answer cautiously.

His eyes flutter closed momentarily before he returns his attention to the flames.

“That’s what that was, right?”

He gives a single nod, his jaw popping.

“How long have you been getting those?”

“About six months.”

I don’t have to do the math to know it’s been about that long since his grandfather passed.

“Are they usually that bad?”

“No. They’re usually worse.”

“Shit.”

He shrugs, giving a half-hearted smile. “It’s not so bad. Could always be something else.”

“Well, it seemed bad to me. You scared the shit out of me.”

When he turns to face me, we lock eyes and I feel like I’ve just announced I care about him. Which I don’t. I can’t.

“Didn’t mean to.” The corner of his lip tips up, and at the same time, heat unfurls in my chest. “But I didn’t hate your tactic of trying to distract me.”

I flick my eyes away and drain the whiskey that’s left in my mug. “I’ll bet.”

“But just so we’re clear, we did agree on only fucking once, right?”

I nod. “That BJ was equivalent to you winning the lottery, Moretti.”

The logs of wood in the fire pit are burning more evenly and the flames aren’t as high, so I set the percolator on top of the grill.

“I definitely hit the jackpot.”

I ignore his comment. I have to. If I give into this banter we seem to be so good at, we’ll be naked again in 2.5 seconds. So I shift the conversation and ask what I’ve been wondering since last night.

“You gonna tell me why you had the panic attack?”

He shrugs while he stamps the heel of his boot into the snow a few times. “Sometimes I don’t know why. They’ll just hit me out of nowhere.”

“And last night?” I hedge.

I catch the hesitation in his expression, and in his posture too. He chews on his lower lip and adjusts the beanie on his head.

“I think it had something to do with this.” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls something out.

When he opens his hand to me, Gigi’s compass necklace rests in the center of his large palm.

My body tenses and I pinch my brows together, flicking my eyes up to meet his. “Why do you have my grandmother’s necklace?” I don’t wait for a response; I snatch it out of his hand.

“I think the better fucking question is, why didyourgrandmother havemygranddad’s necklace?”

“Fuck you. This belongs to Gigi. Belonged,” I can’t help from correcting myself.

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