Page 66 of Echoes of You

He nodded.

“You could’ve been killed!”

Nash leaned back against the table. “Good thing I’ve got cat-like reflexes.”

“This isn’t funny.” The tears came before I could stop them, filling my eyes and spilling over.

“Oh, shit.” Nash sat up. “I’m sorry, Mads.”

“You could’ve died.” The tears only came faster.

He wrapped his good arm around my shoulders and pulled me in. “I’m fine.”

The tears came faster still as panic set in. He was my best friend. The only person who had been there for me for the majority of my life. He was hilarious, caring, and loyal. He was the best man I’d ever known—the man I loved with everything I had.

“Don’t leave me.”

“Mads.” He pulled me tighter against him. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me forever. Don’t you know that by now?”

I burrowed into Nash, careful to avoid his tender shoulder. “You promise?”

His lips skimmed the top of my head. “Always.”

I wiped at my face, struggling to get my emotions under control. “How bad does it hurt?”

“Doesn’t feel awesome. I’ve got some painkillers, but I need to eat something first.”

I jerked out of his hold and got to my feet. “Why didn’t you say something?”

The corner of Nash’s mouth kicked up. “Haven’t really had a chance. You were crying over my manly wounds.”

I glared at him. “Shut up.”

He chuckled. “You gonna make me lunch?”

“I shouldn’t since you’re mocking the fact that I care about you.”

Nash bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

“Men,” I huffed. “I’ll make you something, but you don’t get to pick what it is.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

I opened the fridge and examined the contents. I wanted to make Nash something he loved, but I also wanted food in his stomach as quickly as possible. Grabbing an armful of things, I got to work constructing a sandwich I knew was his favorite.

Footsteps sounded behind me. “Is that a Maddie special?”

“Maybe…”

“You got chips to go with it?” he asked hopefully.

My gaze cut to him. “What do you think?”

Nash grinned—that easy one I loved. “I’d bet you’ve got at least five flavors in those cabinets.”

“Five? Do I look like an amateur to you?”

He opened a couple of cabinets until he found the one with seven types of chips. I wasn’t someone who spent money on frivolous things, but I loved potatoes in all forms. It was the one luxury I’d allowed myself when I finally moved out on my own: as many kinds of chips as I wanted.

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