Page 65 of Don't Forget Me
Only for her.
The girl who’d never told him she loved him. He hadn’t said it since that first time, recognizing her struggling with the notion.
When he walked from his room, the house was quiet, as if he was the only soul in the world. This was how it would have been if Liz hadn’t appeared that day, accusing him of abducting her.
Just Nick and the ghosts of his past.
Outside, the sun peeked out from behind perfect white clouds. It was the kind of day people wrote about, dreamed about. And they’d seen many such times over the weeks and months, never once taking the beauty for granted.
The mountains greeted him as he stepped onto the deck. His eyes found Liz immediately. She sat on the edge of the dock, her feet hanging into the water as she stared into the depths.
His feet didn’t move as he stared at the kind of woman he’d never imagined existed.
Our tragedies do not make us.
But what if they did? What if Stephen was wrong?
Elizabeth Ross lived her own tragedy every day, and it fortified her, creating a strength that was the most beautiful thing about her. She was kind, always trying to see the good in everything.
And she’d seen good in him. Even when he yelled at her, she saw the good.
He’d once wondered if he was drawn to her because she reminded him of Stephen, of the way his brother believed in him. Maybe that was part of it, maybe he’d seen her in Ann, a character Stephen wrote, but it was also so much more.
His entire being yearned to be near her, to tell her their argument didn’t matter, that she should have any part of him she wished—even if that part was Stephen. She could share Stephen’s passion with him, play a role in keeping him alive.
Those memories didn’t have to be Nick’s alone.
His feet took him down the grassy hill. Liz didn’t look up when he approached. She kept her eyes trained on the water when he lowered himself beside her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck.
Her shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. “I am too.”
“No, you have nothing to feel sorry for.”
She pulled her legs onto the dock and turned her entire body to him. “I do. Neither of us knows how long we’ve been here, and I love being here with you. I do. But I miss my family, Nick. I miss them so much it hurts. And I’m having trouble separating the pain from everything else.”
He had to touch her, to hold her against him and let her know he understood, or at least, he was trying to. Reaching out, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she curled into his chest, letting the weight of her body go.
Tilting her head back, she met his gaze, her long lashes brushing her cheeks with every blink. “Stephen’s story… it’s been helping me.”
That was something he did understand. It was the reason he read it repeatedly.
“I didn’t know your brother, but I feel like I do. His words… they soothe some of the pain. I’m sorry I took them without asking, but I’m not sorry I read them.”
“I’m sorry I got so mad.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. “Liz, I think…” He closed his eyes. “I think you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. Is that strange? We’re in comas—we think—and trapped here, yet I have never been more content. I know it’s different for you because you have people waiting for you at home, but the selfish part of me never wants to let you go.”
When he opened his eyes again, a frown marred her face.
She leaned back, lifting a hand to his cheek. “It’s not selfish. Being here with you…” Tears welled in her eyes. “You give me hope, Nick. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
It wasn’t an I love you, but maybe this was better. Hope. He doubted he’d ever given it to anyone before.
“I don’t want to argue again.”
She smiled. “That’ll be tough. Have you met you, Mr. Shoot-pull?”
He laughed. “Shoot-pull? What does that mean?”
