Page 116 of Carry On
“I don’t know.” That was the honest truth.
“Whatever you decide, I support you.”
It felt an awful lot like we weren’t talking about Peter seeing his condo.
“I don’t deserve you,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
“Well, now that’s just a lie,” he retorted. With a quick smile, he added, “I’m a lawyer. I’m well-versed in identifying true and false statements.”
He’s lying, the voice commented.
“I don’t,” I said instead.
“I know you think that, Nash.” He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “But I know that you do, and that’s enough right now. One day you’ll see it too.”
He said the words with such confidence, like he truly believed them. Fuck, I wanted to believe them too.
CHAPTER 77
LINCOLN
GettingNashawayfromCharlotte and Mitchell seemed to lift a little bit of the darkness descending over him. That single notion made it easier for me to breathe. I nursed a beer while I enjoyed the misty night out on my balcony to give Nash and Peter some privacy inside. Hearing Nash laughing, seeing him smile, watching the tension ease from his shoulders… all of it made my heart swell with heavy emotions.
I sat there for hours. I didn’t give a fuck if I sat there all night. He was happy, and that was all that mattered.
“Do you know how obnoxious these car summoning apps are?” Nash demanded when he finally opened the glass door. He handed me another beer as he joined me.
“Car summoning?” I laughed at the word choice.
“That’s what they are!” he retorted. “And half of these guys look like fucking serial killers.”
“Go based on their reviews and number of rides they’ve given,” I told him, like he’d ever use the app. Nash didn’t trust people enough to get in a car with a stranger.
“That’s what Peter said too.”
“Well, he’s right,” I said. “He’s also six-four and a beast. I don’t think anyone is fucking with him.
“True. Watch this.” Nash smirked as he leaned over the rail. He shouted, “Peter!”
“What?” Peter yelled back, craning his head to look at him.
“Your shoe’s untied,” he replied. I scoffed. There was no way in hell he’d fall for that stupid shit. The kid was wearing cowboy boots.
“What—damn it, Nashville!” Peter exclaimed after looking down, making Nash laugh. “Fuck you.”
“Night, Reno.”
“Good night.”
“Hey!” Peter called up just as Nash was about to sit down. He went right back to the balcony, leaning on his elbows as he stared down at his brother. “I love you.”
“Yeah, I love you too, kid,” Nash said.
The sentiment warmed my heart. There was something incredible about being loved in any capacity by someone like Nash. The man gave very little of himself, and emotions weren’t something he showcased easily. At least the positive ones, anyway.
He stayed by the balcony rail until the car came to pick up Peter. Hell, he remained there until the car was completely out of sight. Only then did he flop into the other chair. All the comfortable, at-ease emotions vanished from his face as he stared out at the city. That rapid switch in mood worried me.
“You okay?” I asked softly. The question was rhetorical. His struggle was evident on his face.
