Page 51 of Don't Forget Me
He shrugged. “I wasn’t using it, and my business manager didn’t want it just sitting here unused when it could be making money.”
“But why is the toy here now? I thought we were in the version of the house you remember?”
He shrugged. “Maybe we’re in whatever version the house had been in when our accidents happened. I don’t have any more answers than you.”
She nodded, her lips pressed together as if trying to figure out a puzzle where the pieces didn’t fit. “The reason you don’t come here anymore… it has to do with your brother, doesn’t it?”
Instead of answering her, of speaking the words he hadn’t been able to get out since talking to the cops that day, he turned to face her, searching her eyes for something—he didn’t know what, maybe absolution from his sins.
Was there absolution to be had?
Maybe he needed something that made him feel safe. Like he could follow Stephen’s advice if only she was by his side. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell Stephen what Liz revealed about his accident, which was ridiculous. Stephen was dead. He couldn’t judge him now.
“I think…” He drew in a breath, letting it settle in his lungs before exhaling. “I think I’d like to swim today.” He needed to do something that washed the problems from his mind, if only for a little while. What was the only thing stronger than fear?
Regret.
Her eyes widened just a fraction in surprise. “You want to swim?” She searched his face, seeing something that made her nod. “Yes, okay. I’m guessing you have swim trunks up at the house. I can just swim in this.” Her hand flattened against her t-shirt, the other lowering the mug he’d forgotten she had.
“What are you drinking?”
“A little hair of the dog.”
“Alcohol?” That didn’t sound like her. They’d had a bit of wine last night, but it was way too early to hit it again.
Red crept into her cheeks, and her voice dropped. “Is that what that phrase means? I just kind of always wanted to say it.”
He laughed, framing her face with his hands as he placed a kiss on her cheek. “You’re too good for me, Liz.”
“Maybe.” She held out the mug. “It’s coffee. I don’t have a cool name for it now that you’ve crushed the last one.”
“Java?”
Her nose scrunched, and it was too adorable for words. “That makes you sound old.”
He took the offered coffee and downed the rest of it before coughing. “That’s, uh, strong.”
“And? Is there a problem with that?”
“Ah, I forgot, you’re the barista.” He bent to put the mug on the dock and then pulled his shirt over his head before he could second guess himself. If he was going to get in the water, he just had to do it.
“What are you doing?”
He flashed her a tight smile, his throat tightening. “Swimming.” Kicking off his shorts, he stood in only his black boxer-briefs.
Liz’s gaze drank him in, filling him with the confidence he needed to face his greatest fear.
“I can’t do this without you.” He held out a hand, waiting for her to step closer. “I… I know how to swim, Liz. I just… can’t.”
He hadn’t told her the reason, yet understanding dawned in her eyes. Yanking the shirt over her head, she stepped to the edge of the dock. Nick barely got a chance to take her in before she leaped into the water, her head appearing a moment later.
“I’m here, Nick. You can do this.”
With shaky hands, he gripped the rail of the ladder he hadn’t seen Liz use once. Baby steps. He had to go slow. His breathing turned ragged as he stepped down and the water swirled around his feet.
You injured a man.
You injured a…
