Page 35 of Duty and Desire

“Gotcha.” I returned his smirk. “Maybe mocktails might be a safer alternative?”

The thought of sitting with Nick under a parasol, sipping cocktails, was enough to render me lightheaded.

Down boy. It’s just a drink. Don’t make too much out of it.

Right then I’d take what I could get.

Nick leaned forward. “Is it me, or is Kai staring at us?”

I jerked my head in the direction of the bar, and Kai straightened in a heartbeat, busying himself with wiping a glass. I raised my eyebrows, and he blushed.

I chuckled. “You may be right.”

Nick took a mouthful of his rum punch. “You’re right too. He makes the best cocktails.” He leaned back in his chair, a picture of relaxation. “So tell me… your friend Roger… is he gay?”

I almost choked on my mai tai. “Roger? Hell no. What made you ask that?”

His eyes glittered. “That buggy. I mean, there’s pink…and then there’spink.”

“It is kinda lurid, isn’t it?”

“He sounds as if he’s a very generous man. You said you’re staying in one of the overwater bungalows. He could earn a fortune in four months, but you said he isn’t charging you rent.” He widened his eyes. “What do you have on him? What do you know about him that he’d be willing to give up all that rent money just to keep you quiet?”

“He says he owes me.” I let out a sigh. “He called it payback.”

“For what?” Nick bit his lip. “You don’t have to tell me. It’s none of my business.”

I smiled. “I don’t mind talking about it. It was a long time ago, when we were both in college.” I took a long drink before continuing. “These days, Roger is an entrepreneur. He’s wealthy, successful… but it’s taken a great deal of hard work to get him there, and he’s been through a lot.” My stomach clenched at the memory of that night.

Nick covered my hand with his. “Are you okay?”

Warmth flowed through me at the unexpected gesture. “Yeah. It was a tough time, that’s all.” I paused. “One night, I came back to our dorm to find he’d tried to kill himself. I kept him alive until the paramedics arrived.”

“You saved his life.” Nick’s voice was low and soft. “Why did he want to commit suicide?”

I huffed. “Long story.”

“We have time. And I’m a good listener.”

I took another drink. “His family had really high expectations of him, and that put a lot of pressure on him, but not half as much as the pressure he put on himself. He always felt as though he never measured up, and that created more anxiety. College became a very competitive environment. Added to that, there were financial challenges too, and when his family hit a rough patch—his parents were divorcing, and his dad lost his job—Roger was facing the burden of student loans, imminent failure at his studies… It all caved in on him, and he couldn’t take it anymore.”

“What happened?”

I laced my fingers on the table. “It had been hours since he’d last texted, and I knew something didn’t feel right. The first thing I noticed when I went into the room was the silence. Roger’s music usually blared from his speakers, or there’d be the sound of his computer keys clicking. But that night? Nothing. Just an eerie stillness.”

I shivered as I recalled seeing Roger slumped on the mattress, an empty bottle of pills on the nightstand next to a nearly full glass of water.

“How did he do it?”

“Attempted overdose. I swear, my heart felt as if it was going to explode. He was so goddamn pale, his breathing slow and shallow, and there was sweat on his forehead. I touched his neck, and his pulse was weak. Then I called 911.”

“And they came and saved him?”

I shuddered out a breath. “I tried to remember everything my mom had taught me about first aid, and what to do in case of an overdose. All I could think of was lifting him off the bed and walking him around the room—except it was more a case of dragging him. But I couldn’t lose him. I had to keep him alive long enough for the paramedics to arrive.” My hand shook as I reached for my glass. “I kept talking to him, telling him he had so much to live for, that he wasn’t alone. He didn’t respond, but I kept on moving him, talking to him… I reminded him of all the good times we’d shared—the late-night talks over pizza, his plans for the future, my burning desire to write a bestseller someday, the way we’d always had each other’s backs—and finally, he spoke. He whispered my name.” I could still recall the relief that surged through me on hearing that single word. I swallowed. “Then he said he didn’t think he could keep going. Man, he sounded so freaking exhausted.” Tears stung my eyes. “I told him he didn’t have to do it alone. I told him I wasn’t going anywhere. It wasn’t long after that the ambulance arrived. I followed, and I stayed with him at his bedside for as long as they’d let me.”

Nick handed me a napkin, and I wiped the dampness from my cheeks. “He was lucky to have you for a friend.”

“He told me a few weeks ago he’d always meant to find a way to pay me back.” I gestured to our lush surroundings. “He found a way.”

---