Page 70 of Spicy or Sweet
We sit side by side on the bench and stare out at the crystal-clear water. It’s a beautiful day—the scent of fresh pine emanates from the forest, the sky is clear, and the air is cool, but not cold. The peace of it all quietens my mind; it’s easy to be just in the moment here.
“This was a good choice,” Nico says quietly. “Why here?”
“Oh, you know. Georgie loved water so much. I come here a lot, and I can imagine that if she had made it to Wintermore, this would be her favorite spot, too. Also, I get a good view of the mountains from here. It’s not like I can see your cabin or anything, but I feel closer to you when I’m here.”
I feel Nico looking at me, but I keep my eyes glued to the horizon, because I really don’t want him to see me crying again.
He lifts his arm, pointing to the mountain. “Do you see that tall, crooked tree? It kind of pokes out above all the others.”
It takes me a second—my eyesight isn’t what it used to be, but I spot it eventually. “I see it.”
“My cabin isn’t too far from that one. There’s a lookout there. You can’t see it from here, but you can see the town from the lookout. You can see the water. I go there a lot, spend a couple hours looking down, wondering what you’re up to. It makes me feel closer to you, too.”
There’s no hiding the tears streaming down my cheeks when I do look up and meet his eye. The pain in his expression is like a knife in my chest, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned since Georgie died, it’s that there’s nothing I can do to bear Nico’s pain for him. If I could, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’d take every drop of pain, every drop of regret, and shoulder it for the rest of my life so he didn’t have to.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Shay,” he says, and I have to look away when a tear slides down his face. “You moved here for me, and we don’t see each other any more than we did before. I want to be the brother you deserve, I just…”
“It’s okay. I understand. I know how hard it must be to look at me and see Georgie. I don’t blame you. I get it, I promise.”
“Is that what you think?” Nico asks. I glance at him, and he looks stunned, his face crumpling when I nod in confirmation.“God, no. It was never you, Shay. I’m so sorry if that’s how I’ve made you feel. It’s just… it was my fault.”
“No. It was a freak acciden?—”
“I was the one who wanted to leave early. If we’d left at the time we planned originally, we would’ve missed the rockslide,” he counters.
“And we might have ended up rear-ended or being struck by fucking lightning, Nico. You can’t know that.”
“Either way, I was driving. I should’ve had better control of the car.” His voice rises gradually.
“No one could have outdriven a giant boulder.”
“Then it should have been me!”
“Nico—”
He stands up and crosses his arms, glaring at the reservoir like it was personally responsible for the accident. “It should’ve been me. I don’t understand why she died and I didn’t. It’s not fair.” His voice fades into nothing, and I watch his shoulders shake as sobs wrack his body.
“It’s not fair,” I agree, standing up and joining him. I don’t touch him, just let him cry it out. “No one should’ve died, Nico. But Georgie did. And she wouldn’t want either of us to waste our lives. She wouldn’t want us to shut each other out.”
“I don’t know how to do anything but waste it,” Nico says, his face blotchy. “But I know I need to try. If I can’t do it for me, and I can’t do it for Georgie, I’m going to try and do it for you,” he promises, and it’s amazing how much pressure one promise sucks out of my chest. I had no idea I was carrying around quite so much.
“Does that mean we’re going to see each other more?”
“Definitely. And I called Bryan. I invited him to come and stay this winter with his husband and… shit, I can’t even remember his daughters’ names.”
“Celeste and Sloane,” I remind him, bursting with pride. I don’t want to make a big deal of it—god knows Nico doesn’t like a fuss—but this is the biggest step I’ve seen him take since Georgie died. “That’s amazing. I’ll need to drive up when they’re here.”
“I’d like that,” Nico says, a tentative smile curving his lips. “How is the bakery progressing?”
I recognize his need to change the subject onto a lighter note and take it, gratefully.
“Amazing. We’re having our grand reopening tomorrow, actually.” An idea takes hold, and I open my mouth without thinking it through. “You know, I’m going to the Whittens’ for their pre-Christmas dinner tonight, and I’m sure they’d be happy to have you. You could stay tonight and come to the reopening tomorrow.”
Nico shoves his hands in his pockets, and I wait for him to let me down gently. “I can’t stay—I have the dogs,” he says.
“Shit, of course. I forgot about them.”
“Understandable—the three of you have never gotten along,” he replies, his mustache twitching. “Tomorrow—what time is your reopening?”
