Page 27 of Reclaimed Roots

Natalie's eyes found mine, and I could read the emotions swimming beneath their surface. The silent plea for me to stay, to not run away.

But I couldn't. Not tonight.

"I'll walk you out," she said, rising from her chair.

I was about to argue, but her expression stopped me. That stubborn set to her jaw that meant she wasn't taking no for an answer.

As soon as we were outside, she rounded on me, arms folded across her chest.

"So that's it? You're just going to take off?"

I raked a hand through my hair, frustration surging up. "What do you want from me, Nat? You want me to stick around and make nice over pie and coffee like everything's normal between us?"

"No, I..." She faltered, suddenly looking smaller than I'd ever seen her. "I don't know what I want. I missed you, Jas. Being around you again, it's..."

"It's what?" I demanded, taking a step closer. "Awkward? Painful? Because you're the one who left, remember?"

She flinched like I'd slapped her. "I know," she whispered. "Believe me, I know."

The naked vulnerability in her voice punched straight through me, shattering the last of my resolve. I reached for her, pulling her against my chest.

She melted into me with a soft sigh, her body molding to mine like it was made to fit there. For a few heartbeats, we simply clung to each other.

"I missed you, too, Nat," I admitted, finding my voice at last.

Her grip on me tightened, and her body started to tremble, shoulders shaking with muffled sobs. The sweet,familiar scent of her shampoo surrounded me as I tucked her head beneath my chin, letting my fingers trail up and down her back in soothing strokes. She clutched at me like I was her only lifeline, each ragged inhale reverberating through us both.

Grief rolled off her in raw, jagged waves, crashing against us with the force of a hurricane. I recognized the pain in her desolate, wounded cries—the soul-deep emptiness that came with losing someone she loved more than life itself.

My throat constricted as memories of Ed's booming laugh and twinkling eyes flooded my mind, each one a shard of glass grinding deeper.

Natalie buried her face in my chest, her tears soaking through my shirt. I tightened my arms in a futile attempt to hold her closer as a fierce surge of protectiveness welled up within me. She had always been able to strip away my defenses and touch the tender parts of me I kept walled off from the rest of the world.

I'd missed this. The intimacy of simply holding her, of breaking down the walls and bullshit we'd built up between us these past seven years.

Memories bombarded me in rapid flashes—huddling under the old oak tree as rain pounded the orchard, trading secrets and dreams in hushed whispers. Her delighted laughter mingling with the thrum of the music at our first high school dance. The soft, wondering look in her eyes the night we finally gave our virginity to each other.

I squeezed my eyes shut against the torrent, but it did nothing to stop the flood of memories. I was drowning in apast I could never get back. The ghost of the girl she was felt somehow more vivid than the flesh-and-blood woman trembling against me now.

Too much had happened. We could never rebuild what we had. Nana always said you couldn't polish a rotten apple, and things between Natalie and me had gone sour a long time ago.

Still, I couldn't seem to let go. Not yet. Not when it felt like coming home after a lifetime of aimless, lonely wandering.

So I stood there, rooted to the spot, holding her together as she crumbled in my arms. I murmured nonsense comforts, meaningless platitudes about everything being okay when we both knew damn well it wasn't. All I could do was be there, be present so she didn't have to break down alone.

Eventually, the sobs tapered off into shuddering breaths, and she pulled back, swiping at the wetness on her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater. Her lashes were clumped with tears, eyes swollen and rimmed with smudged mascara.

And she was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

"Sorry," she rasped, offering me a watery smile. "Guess I needed that more than I realized."

"Don't apologize." My voice was low and rough as my thumb grazed her flushed cheekbone. "Not to me, Nat. Not for this."

She sucked in a sharp breath as her eyes searched mine, dark and liquid, brimming with a thousand unspoken questions.

I should have let go. Put some distance between us. But Icouldn't make myself do it. Not when she was looking at me like that.

"Jas," she breathed. It was a plea and a warning all at once.

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