Page 26 of Waiting Forever
Before I can respond, he raises his hand. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “How do I do this?”
The question isn’t directed at me, but I answer. “Do what? Live with me? Because that’s what it feels like you’re saying.” Hurt mixes with my anger. I hadn’t considered he might want to kick me out. If that happens, Mom won’t understand and Dad will demand to know why, causing a multitude of new problems.
“Nathan. Please,” I beg. “I’m sorry. I won’t leave again without your permission. I won’t make friends or do anything to upset you. I’ll just live in this room and come out to eat and go to my classes. Just promise you won’t kick me out.”
He doesn’t respond, other than stabbing his fingers through his hair and clenching the strands. His biceps bulge with hard, round muscles.
I didn’t want to bring this up, but since he still isn’t speaking, I must. “If you kick me out, my parents will do either one of two things: insist I join them in London, which I don’t want to do.” Transferring to a college in England is harder than changing to one in the US, and I don’t want to live in the UK. “Or my parents will come back to America. Having my dad in the States might cause him to do something he’d regret. He needs more time.” The lawyers we hired need more time. “He can’t come back here. Not yet. Please. I love them too much to cause them any more pain. We need to make this work—Ineed to. For them.”
He peers down at me, his gaze thoughtful. “You’re here for them?”
I nod.
He takes in a breath and his shoulders relax. “I really wish I knew what happened so I can understand better. How can I help you if I don’t know where to start?”
His words gut me. He deserves to know. I know that and yet I can’t bring myself to explain. He thinks I’m this strong girl who makes wise choices. For him to know how badly I’d screwed up would change the way he sees me. Friends who I thought I could trust looked at me differently after knowing the truth. With doubt or outright disbelief. “I don’t need your help,” I say in the gentlest tone I can manage. “Not about that. I took care of it. And now I want to put it behind me. Can you respect that? Please?”
He stares at me for a long moment. Then he cups my face in his big, warm hands and caresses my cheek with his thumb. “You don’t always have to be so strong.”
I close my eyes, resisting the urge to lean into his palm, and sigh. “Yes, I do.” If I let down my guard and open up to Nathan, I may fall harder for him, reach a point of no return, and that would kill me.
“Did you pack a bathing suit?” he asks, to my surprise.
“A bathing suit?”
“Yes.” He laughs but doesn’t remove his hands from my face. “I want to swim, and I want you to join me.”
“Do I have a say in the matter?”
“Swimming isn’t a matter. It’s fun.”
I haven’t even seen the backyard. I’m sure the pool is epic. “Isn’t it too cold to swim?” During the day the sun warms things up but at night it grows chilly, even for Florida.
“The pool’s heated and there’s an attached Jacuzzi. You won’t be cold.”
A Jacuzzi with Nathan and his muscular body on display, except for his swim shorts? Bad idea. “I don’t have a bathing suit yet. I shipped it with my stuff.”
He lowers his hands and points in my room. “You mean that stuff?”
Three large cardboard boxes sit in a row by the couch.
“They came.” I surge toward the boxes, happiness filling me. There are more than just clothes in these. I’d packed mementos and decorations from my old room. Stuff to help me make this place feel like home.
Nathan stands behind me. “They came when you were gone. I brought them here and couldn’t find you. I texted, called. I was a fucking wreck, Kensi.” He runs his hand through his rumpled brown hair. “I wasn’t sure if I should call the police. Not knowing what happened to you back in Dallas leaves blank areas in my brain that I fill in with worst-case scenarios. A stalker? A psychotic ex? Scorned best friend intent on revenge? The mafia?”
My eyes bug. “The mafia? Seriously?”
“You’d be surprised about the stuff I’ve seen and the secrets I’ve kept. You can trust me, Kensi, with anything.”
I peel thick tape off one of the boxes. “Can I trust you to fix your headboard?” It’s out before I can stop it.
“What?” He moves to my side. “My headboard?”
No point in shutting up now. I focus on removing the tape from the second box. “Your room is directly above mine and your bed is loud when you’re having sex. Maybe send me a polite warning text the next time so I can leave before the hammering begins.” I tear off the tape from the third box and crumble it in my hands.
“Fuck,” he hisses.
“Yep.” I open the third box. Ironically, my bathing suit rests on top of the pile of folded clothes. “Still want to go swimming?”
