9. Markus
CHAPTER 9
Markus
I couldn’t stop replaying the day in my head.
At the market, Nicholas had moved through the crowd like he belonged. People called out to him by name—genuine warmth in their voices as they waved, teased, or asked about Aiden. He deflected most of it with that dry humor of his, but he had no idea how much he was adored in this town. It was in the way the baker handed him an extra loaf without charging, in the way the florist slipped a single flower into his bag. Nicholas brushed it off like it was nothing, and I doubted he believed what I saw: this town cared about him, and not just because of his mother’s memory.
Then came the café, where the conversation had turned heavier. That tightness in his jaw when he mentioned his mother—I could see the effort it took to keep himself together, the practiced way he diverted attention back to me.
And finally, Cedar Hill. I’d never forget the way his knees buckled when he let it all out. How his tears soaked through my shirt as I held him, how his body shook with years of grief and exhaustion. He didn’t push me away. And I dare to say that it was probably the first time in a while that he let someone else carry the weight.
I knew Nicholas would pull away after that. He’d retreat behind his walls, pretend like none of it had happened. And he had, but the image of him crying in my arms stayed with me, threading a knot in my chest that hadn’t loosened all day.
A knock startled me out of my thoughts. Or at least I thought there was a knock on the door. I’d just settled on the couch, a medical book in my hands and the fire crackling low. It was late, and most people didn’t drop by unannounced at this hour.
The knock sounded again, sharper this time; there was no mistaking what it was. I set the book on the armrest and crossed to the door, not sure who it could be. When I opened it, it was Nicholas.
He wasn’t dressed for the cold. Just a hoodie, jeans, and sneakers dusted with snow. His cheeks were flushed, not from embarrassment but from the chill outside. His hair was damp and curling at the ends like he hadn’t bothered drying it after a shower. And his eyes—red-rimmed and glassy, like he’d been wrestling with himself for hours before deciding to come here. His arms wrapped tightly around himself like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.
“Hey,” I said, my voice softening instinctively.
His lips parted, but no words came out. He looked so lost, so tired, and my first instinct was to pull him into my arms. To hold him the way I had on the hill, to tell him he didn’t have to be strong right now. But I knew better than to push. Nicholas wasn’t ready to admit how much he needed someone—not even to himself.
“Come inside.” I stepped aside, making space for him to enter.
He hesitated, his fingers twitching at his sides. “I—I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“You’re not bothering me. Come in before you freeze.”
He finally crossed the threshold, his movements tentative. The snow on his sneakers melted into puddles on the mat as he toed them off.
“Sit wherever you want,” I offered, closing the door behind him.
He hovered near the couch, his fingers twitching like he didn’t know what to do with them. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
“You didn’t.” I gestured toward the couch. “Get comfortable. You hungry?”
His eyes flicked to mine, then away. “I’m fine.”
He wasn’t fine. Anyone could see that, but I didn’t press. Instead, I headed to the kitchen, keeping one ear out for any movement behind me.
I put a pot on the stove and busied myself with milk, chocolate, and sugar. When I returned, he was on the couch, curled into the corner with his knees drawn up slightly. It was an unconscious thing—he probably didn’t even realize how small he’d made himself.
I set one mug in front of him, then sat in the chair across from him. “Careful. It’s hot.”
Nicholas glanced at the mug but didn’t reach for it. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
He took it without further argument, cupping it in both hands like he needed the warmth more than the drink.
The first sip made his shoulders relax, and I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips. “Good?”
“It’s not bad,” he muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched.
We drank in silence for a while, the only sounds the occasional pop of the fire and the faint hum of wind outside.
I leaned back, letting the firelight flicker between us. “You want to tell me what’s on your mind?”
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he exhaled, a long, shaky breath that seemed to deflate him. “I couldn’t sit in the house anymore. It felt... loud.”
He didn’t mean loud in the traditional sense, and I knew better than to ask for an explanation. I just nodded.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Sharon called even though she saw me—us—earlier. She wanted to check on me.”
“That was kind of her.”
“Yeah.” His voice was tight, brittle. “She kept asking if I was okay, and I couldn’t—I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing and make her feel bad for asking, but I didn’t want to lie, either.”
I waited, watching the way his hands gripped the fabric of his hoodie.
“So I told her I was fine.” His laugh was short and bitter. “She didn’t believe me.”
“Would it have been so bad to tell her the truth?”
His gaze shot to mine, sharp and defensive, but then it softened just as quickly. “I don’t know what the truth is anymore.”
“That’s okay.” I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my knees. “Sometimes, just saying that is enough.”
He looked down at his lap, his fingers fidgeting with the strings of his thin hoodie. “Why are you always so calm?”
“I’m not always calm.”
“You seem like it.”
“Maybe because I’ve been where you are.”
His hands stilled, and his eyes met mine again, searching. “How do you deal with it? The... noise.”
“By letting people in. It’s not easy, but it helps.” I kept my tone gentle, steady. But aren’t you one to talk, Markus? You’ve been running away since the breakup with Josh, closing people out.
Nicholas didn’t respond, but the tension in his shoulders eased just a fraction.
When he finished drinking the cocoa, he rested the empty mug on the table. I stood and extended my hand to him.
He blinked up at me, startled. “What?”
“You’re staying here tonight.”
“No, I?—”
“Yes, you are. It’s late, and I’m not letting you drive home in this weather.”
“I drove to get here.”
“Come on, let’s go,” I said, ignoring his retort. “You can stay in the guest room.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t argue as he stood and followed me to the guest room.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” he muttered, hovering in the doorway like he didn’t trust the space.
I opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a warmer hoodie than the one he had on. “These should fit well enough for tonight.”
His nose scrunched, a grumpy expression that only made me want to ruffle his hair. “I’m not wearing your clothes.”
I held them out anyway. “These will keep you nice and warm. Go ahead. The bathroom is on the right. There’s a new toothbrush in the top drawer.”
He huffed but took the clothes, muttering something under his breath as he went to the bathroom to change.
When he returned, I had to bite back a smile. The gray sweats were too long, and the green hoodie that matched the color of his eyes practically swallowed him whole, but he looked... perfect. Comfortable in a way I hadn’t seen before, his shoulders no longer weighed down.
“You’re not allowed to laugh,” he warned, crossing his arms.
“I’m not laughing.” I reached over, adjusting the hood so it didn’t droop over his eyes.
His cheeks turned pink, and he tilted his head slightly, unconsciously leaning into my hand before catching himself and stepping back.
“Get some sleep,” I said, my voice softer than I intended. “I’ll be right down the hall if you need anything.”
He hesitated, standing awkwardly at the edge of the bed, his fingers twitching like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. Then, with a soft sigh, he crawled onto the mattress, moving on his knees before lowering himself onto his side. He didn’t make a show of getting comfortable, but I caught the subtle shift of his body as he tucked his hands beneath his cheek and relaxed into the pillow.
I watched him for a moment, taking in the way the oversized hoodie bunched around his elbows, the slight furrow still etched between his brows. His eyes fluttered once, twice, the weight of exhaustion pulling them closed.
When I noticed his breathing starting to even out, I reached for the blanket folded at the foot of the bed.
“What are you doing?” His voice was groggy, defensive, though his eyes barely opened.
“Relax.” I unfolded the blanket and gave it a shake.
He propped himself up slightly, confusion mingling with something softer in his expression. “I don’t need?—”
“Just let me.” My voice came out quieter than I expected, but firm enough to leave no room for argument.
His lips pressed into a line, but he didn’t resist. Instead, he shifted slightly, his movements uncharacteristically small, like he didn’t want to disturb what I was doing.
I draped the blanket over him, smoothing it down with deliberate care. Tugging the edges, I tucked it snugly around his sides, making sure it covered him completely. His cheeks turned a faint shade of pink, but he didn’t look away.
“There,” I murmured. “That’s better.”
His eyelids drooped again, his lashes casting faint shadows against his cheeks. For someone who worked so hard to project strength, he looked impossibly young in that moment, so vulnerable it made my chest ache.
“Markus?” His voice was a whisper.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
I leaned back, letting my hand linger on the edge of the blanket for just a second longer. “Just get some rest.”
His lips twitched like he wanted to respond, but sleep won the battle. His face softened completely, the tension melting away until he was nothing but quiet breaths and the rise and fall of his chest.
I stood there for a while, watching him, making sure he was comfortable. The urge to protect him, to keep him safe from everything he’d been carrying, burned fiercely in me.
Eventually, I pulled myself away, retreating to the living room. I picked up the book I’d been reading earlier, but the words blurred together. My mind stayed on Nicky. Knowing he was just a few steps away grounded me in a way I hadn’t expected.
I didn’t even realize when I drifted off. One moment I was thinking about him, the next I was startled awake by the pale light of dawn spilling through the window.
Glancing at the time on my phone, I frowned. Six o’clock. Too early for anyone to be up, and yet?—
I rushed to the guest room.
The bed was neatly made, the blanket folded at the foot. My sweatpants were neatly folded on the bed, but my hoodie was nowhere to be seen.
And Nicholas was gone.