Chapter 30

Nolan

"I'm justglad you're okay, and there wasn't too much damage," Allie said, letting out a sigh.

I nodded briefly as I continued to chop the cucumbers on the cutting board for the salad I was making. While I probably should have been more pissed at Dawson than I was, a part of me was numb to people blowing up at me on the phone as I dealt with angry clients on the daily. And to be fair, until recently, I'd endured Dawson's unappreciative customer service gripes for the last two years. Dawson yelling at me didn't phase me anymore.

But what really did me in was hearing his voice shake when he claimed it was his life, and he was in control. He sounded like me, or the me I was before all of this—whatever this was—happened.

I hated disruption, disorder. I prided myself on always doing what was right, keeping to the status quo, and keeping my nose down. I liked routine better than anyone, and I understood feeling helpless when things were out of my control.

It was just barely twenty-four hours since I'd felt that way, since I'd woke up in the middle of a literal fire and Dawson had come to my rescue with s'mores and sweet whispers of wanting to take care of me. So, instead of rising to his anger, instead of feeding into his need to control the situation, I did the only thing I could think of to do.

I tried to take care of him. Which for me, meant making my calls on the Bradish claim in between filing my own, and hitting the market to grab some stuff to make dinner.

I wasn't stupid, I knew given the situation, I'd probably be gone afterward, taking up residence at the Paradise until my apartment was ready for me to inhabit it again. So, at the very least, it was a thank you. I'd probably overstayed my welcome, anyway.

I sprinkled the cucumber wedges in the salad bowls as Allie continued.

"Still though, you have to admit it is sort of ironic that Mr. March came to your rescue like some knight in shining armor. I mean, you can't make that kind of stuff up. It's like, Hallmark material."

"It would be Hallmark material if it ended happily ever after, but we both know that's not happening."

"And why not?" Allie pressed. "I'd kill to have a hot guy make me dinner when I've had a shit day."

I tossed the cutting board and knife in the sink as I turned to her.

Her eyes sparkled even through Facetime, her lips smirking with smugness.

"Because that would mean I actually did something right for once," I grumbled as the timer went off for the pasta.

"You don't give yourself enough credit, Nolan. You're a damn gem, and one argument does not mean you're toast. If Dawson has any brains, he'll be groveling after tasting your damn cooking. What are you making anyway?" she said as she tried to peer around me.

I emptied the pasta into the strainer. "Chicken Alfredo and salad. Not exactly fancy, but..."

The sound of the door unlocking alerted me, and Allie's eyes widened.

"Fuck, I gotta go, Allie. I'll call you later," I said, and I hung up quickly. It wasn't like I was embarrassed or anything, but some things I liked to keep to myself. And Allie was one of those things. We'd been friends since high school, and she was the closest thing I had to a sister. I told her everything, and I mean everything. Something my exes didn't particularly care for.

I'd just added the cooked pasta to the sauce pot as Dawson walked through the door.

"I didn't think you'd be here," Dawson said, his entire body freezing upon the sight of me.

"Expecting someone else?" I growled, a little harsher than I'd meant to. I tossed the pasta in the pot, making sure it was coated well with sauce.

Dawson let out a sigh. "No, I just..."

"Sit down," I said briskly as I set the bowls out. A part of me worried Dawson might find my exploration of his kitchen cabinets invasive, but I hoped the scent of overpowering parmesan and bacon distracted him from the fact I'd gone through his stuff.

I had a good reason though...

I braced myself for an argument. After all, last I'd spoken to him he'd been pretty upset, and Dawson wasn't the type to take commands without a little rebuttal. I'd seen him around the firehouse. True to what he'd claimed earlier, he was usually the one in charge, telling others what to do.

So, when he did as I asked without question, sitting his ass on his barstool, eyes wide and focused on me like a kid in a candy store, I couldn't help but be surprised.

And maybe a little smug. So sue me.

"Did you actually make all this from scratch?" Dawson asked carefully.

I set the bowls of salad and pasta in front of him before sliding him a fork.

"It's the least I could do," I said as I sat across from him, focusing on my bowl of pasta because I knew if I looked at him, I'd lose my nerve.

I'd never fucking leave.

"Nolan, listen..."

I held up my hand and shook my head. "Food first. Then we can fight."

I didn't miss the small smirk that fell across Dawson's lips.

"Is that an order?" he asked, his voice edged in sarcasm.

"Just shut up and eat your damn dinner," I said, half-chuckling because he truly was a pain in the ass.

A pain in the ass that I knew I was most definitely falling in love with.

When we'd finally finished eating, Dawson moved to help me clean up.

"It's fine, I—"

"Nope, not gonna let you win this one. You cooked, I clean. Those are the rules."

I huffed in annoyance, but figured if he was in a better mood, I could let it go. It was his place after all, and I was just a guest. A guest on their way out.

"Dawson, listen... I really appreciate you letting me stay, but I think I should go. I'll grab a room at the Paradise—"

"No," Dawson said, turning to look at me with concerned eyes as he set the dishes in the sink. "Don't go on account of my being as asshole... I didn't mean, I just—"

Watching Dawson, a man who was usually so bold and confident, struggle over his words was somehow equally endearing as it was painful. And that melted my damn resolve, if I'd had any to begin with. I sighed.

"I was an ass. Earlier, I know I was, and I didn't mean to be, really. I just..."

I took one small step toward him, noting how his entire body relaxed when I did. Almost as if he really didn't want me to leave.

Dawson looked down at me with those fiery amber eyes, his gaze full of unspoken things and uncharted territory.

Full of hope.

But what did Dawson hope for?

"At the risk of sounding like an absolute idiot, I... I like you Nolan. I like you a lot, and I really like you being here, with me, but it's more than that..."

Suddenly, I was the one who felt like the rug had been pulled out underneath me, despite the fact I was standing on it. My throat instantly tightened, my heart skipping a beat, my blood starting to rush with the onslaught of panic and anxiety. I know what I wanted him to say, but that didn't mean he was going to say it.

Because the truth was, I liked being with Dawson too. I loved all the stupid little annoyances of his, his gorgeous face, and the little parts of him he kept hidden from most, but had decided to show me. But I knew it couldn't be that simple.

Could it?

"Don't get me wrong, you piss me off too. With your smug little smile, or your bratty fucking attitude, or how you can look sexier in my sweatpants than I do," he said, flashing me a smirk.

I was frozen as I watched his eyelashes flutter, and I waited with bated breath for him to finish. Though it sounded like he was listing my faults, which irritated me, as if I didn't already know I was a giant pain in his ass.

The feeling is mutual, though.

"But you also challenge me. Especially when you take control. Of the situation, of me..."

The vulnerability that crossed over his expression left my heart aching. I got the feeling that this... this soul-bearing moment was something new for Dawson, and I had to admit it was new for me too.

No man had ever looked at me like Dawson was, had ever poured their heart out to me like that. And the reality of that was scary, but also deeply fulfilling.

"Dawson..." I sighed as I took another step, noting his gaze didn't break mine. He only looked at me like I was a tall glass of water and he was in the fucking desert.

The need to soothe his rough edges, to calm his storms and insecurities was overwhelming. This man ran into burning buildings, saved people, and gave back to so much of this community.

He was a true hero, but who saved him?

Who put out the fires in his life?

Who pulled him from the wreckage?

I wanted to be that person. Dawson deserved someone who could withstand the flames, and at that moment, I found my own inner hero. I charged into his burning building, and I reached for him through the fire.

"I'd never try to control you. I was never trying to take that from you. I just wanted to take care of you for once. Take one thing off your shoulders."

Dawson reached out, and set his hand gingerly on my hip, which only made his sweatpants slide down bit.

I really need to get a pair of these in my size, they are so comfortable...

Dawson's thumb gently brushed my exposed skin, and I'd be lying if I said the touch didn't make my entire body want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

God, I am in so deep...

Like a puppet on delicate strings, with one tiny movement of his hand, I fell into Dawson, against his chest, effortlessly.

"Damn you, Nolan," he breathed out, his other hand snaking its way up my neck and into my hair.

His touch made me feel alive, the heat of his breath on my lips, the touch of his fingertips sliding into my hair like an out of body experience. I barely had a second to breathe before his lips were on mine, warm and inviting, but not soft in the least bit.

No, there was an edge to his kiss, a roughness that caused my cock to twitch and my heart to race.

I met his harsh lips with submission, wanting nothing more than be burned by this man until there was nothing left.

Dawson pulled away only a fraction, his fingertips on my waist moving up my chest to my neck, the pad of his thumb hooking under my chin to make me look up at him. In his fiery gaze, I could see he was scared.

He was terrified of this thing between us, just as I was, and that was what I responded to as I leaned closer, biting at his lower lip, settling my hand on his hip, pulling him to me.

But inside of me there was still panic, a voice in my head that told me I was bordering on dangerous territory.

Because I wanted to give Dawson everything he deserved, everything I could possibly give the man who gives to everyone else.

But all I had to offer was me, and my racing heart.

Would that be enough?

A startling moment of clarity cut through my thoughts, and I knew I needed to take a step back. I needed to get my head on straight and think things through, away from beautiful calendar gods and addicting kisses, and pretty amber eyes.

S.O. freaking S.

"I need... I need to go," I said shakily, not wanting to leave one bit, but knowing if I didn't there would be no turning back. Because if I stayed in Dawson's kitchen, underneath his touch and kiss, I'd never recover. I would be ruined forever.

Tears threatened to escape my eyes and my heart was in my throat as I gingerly pushed away from Dawson, needing air to breathe.

Except away from Dawson, the air was suffocating.

"Please don't go, Nolan," Dawson's voice shook as his hand gently grasped mine, stopping me.

My back to him, I sucked in a breath, trying to still my racing pulse and heart as I felt the heaviness of his words.

He almost sounded heartbroken.

I was at a crossroads, torn between self-preservation and losing myself completely.