Chapter 24

I standin the parking lot, March air biting the exposed skin on my arms, and wonder how I'm supposed to feel.

On the one hand, I did not like the way Nathan deposited me in a chair like a tiny delicate flower so he could…I don't know. Rough Jason up a little bit?

Okay, maybe I do like the idea of him roughing Jason up a little bit.

It was not fun to have my old boss looming over me, shifting his body to make it difficult for me to escape. But I would have escaped.

I…think I would have escaped?

The unfortunate truth is that Nathan is much more intimidating than I am. And while I likely would have weaseled my way out of Jason's presence, I would not have convinced him to leave me alone. Not like Nathan did.

There is a streak of independence in me that wants to believe I can fight all my own battles. Trouble is, the playing field isn't always level. I used every tool at my disposal to get Jason fired, to get him out of my life, and all I got were head pats and patronizing smiles.

Then there's the fact that he showed up in Harvest Hollow. Apparently, he came to town to meet with a witness, so it was only coincidence he was at Mulligan's. Silver Creek isn't that far away, so I can believe the work story. But it was still unsettling to see him. He doesn't belong in my new life.

At least I don't have to worry about seeing him again. Jason is an opportunist, but he's a coward at heart. He won't bother me again—especially now that he knows I'm with Nathan.

Or…thinks I'm with Nathan, anyway.

I'm not going to stress about the technicalities.

Not after that kiss.

I could write poetry about that kiss.

I probably will write poetry about that kiss.

Bad poetry that no one will ever read. But poetry, just the same.

Nathan kissed me like he owned me. Like I was the object of his every desire. Like he could not get enough.

Now I know for sure that he was holding back whenever we kissed in public. Those kisses were amazing—it's Nathan, after all—but they were survivable.

This one—there's no going back. Nathan has claimed me body and soul. I've been living on a cliffside, teetering near the edge with only the smallest tethers holding me back. But when I saw him standing behind Jason with fire in his eyes, when I stepped into his arms and felt an utter certainty that I would always be safe there, those tethers snapped clean in half, and I went plummeting.

Forget ninety percent.

I've completely fallen for this man. Inexplicably. Maybe even cosmically, which is the stupidest thing I've ever said, and I still mean it.

Nathan's teammates file past us, offering me tentative smiles and encouraging glances. It really was sweet the way they all supported him…supported me.

As soon as we're alone, Nathan takes a hesitant step forward. "Summer, I'm—" His words cut off, and he rubs a hand down his beard, shaking his head as he presses his lips into a tight frown.

I hurry toward him, closing the gap between us. I'm tempted to throw myself into his arms, but uncertainty keeps me from following through. That kiss is the closest we've ever come to admitting our feelings out loud. Now, I'm not sure how to react.

"Thank you," I say, looking up at him. "You didn't have to do that, but I really appreciate that you did."

His expression softens, and tension eases out of his shoulders. "I thought you were mad."

I shake my head. "I've been dealing with him for two years. It was nice to have someone else carry the baton for a minute." I wrap my arms around my middle, shivering against the cold. I came outside in such a hurry, I didn't think to grab my jacket.

Wordlessly, Nathan shrugs out of his hoodie, which is totally ridiculous because he's only wearing a thin t-shirt underneath. He gently slides it over my head, holding the bottom open while I slip my arms into the sleeves. It completely swallows me, but I'm not about to complain. It smells like clean laundry with hints of balsam and cedarwood, but there's a slight musk to it too—something manly and intoxicating and uniquely Nathan. If testosterone had a smell, I'm pretty sure this would be it, and I am here for it.

"You're going to get cold," I whisper to Nathan.

"Better me than you," he says softly.

"You've been sick," I say. "You need to take care of yourself."

"Summer, I play hockey," he says, his tone light. "If the cold made me sick, I'd be sick all the time. Keep it. I promise I'm warm enough."

I nod as I step closer. I think of Lucy's challenge to be brave, to own my feelings, and I take a stuttering breath as I reach out and take his hands. "So…that kiss," I say, giving his fingers a squeeze. "That was different, right?" I swallow against the knot forming in my throat. "We're supposed to admit it. If we're feeling anything real, we have to say so. Those were the rules."

I look up to see Nathan's eyes closed. His entire body is tense, his jaw clenched. He doesn't seem angry, just…restrained. Like he's holding himself back, and it's taking every ounce of his energy and focus to do it.

I lift a hand to his face, sliding my thumb over his beard. "Nathan," I whisper.

He opens his eyes, and for once, they're completely unguarded, his desire for me so raw, so readily apparent that it takes my breath away.

"Please don't fight this," I say. I tilt my face up and brush my lips against his, tentatively at first, but then his body softens, melting into me as I deepen the kiss. My hands slide through his hair until I clasp my fingers behind his neck and lean even closer, our bodies flush.

His broad hands slide from my hips up to my back, and I let out a low whimper as his tongue brushes against mine. When his hands move to cradle my face, his fingertips pressing against my skin with gentle firmness, the kiss shifts. Before this moment, I was kissing Nathan. I asked and he answered, his body moving in rhythm with mine. But now, he's the one steering this ship, and I happily surrender control.

There's an old Chevy truck parked directly beside us—old enough that it does not have a car alarm.

Which is important because Nathan slides his hands over my hips and down to my thighs, then he hoists me up, spinning us until I'm sitting on the hood of the truck, all without breaking the kiss. He steps into the space between my knees, and I lean into him.

"You made that look way too easy," I say against his lips. The man might be a professional athlete, but I'm not exactly a petite person. The realization that he could still toss me over his shoulder triggers a new pulse of longing deep in my gut.

We fall back into it, kissing as my hands move over his shoulders, his arms, sliding over his chilled skin, brushing under the hem of his sleeves to curve around his biceps.

Nathan growls as my hands move higher, exploring his shoulders, the dips and hollows of his muscles as they twitch and flex under my touch.

"What are you doing to me?" he asks, his voice strained and husky, his breathing labored.

"I could ask you the same thing." I lean up, my teeth catching his bottom lip, nipping gently before I kiss him again. We both seem content to abandon the question, and we fall back into it without another word.

I'm not sure how long we kiss. Long enough that our pace slows from something frenzied to something a little more languorous—a gentle exploration that liquefies my limbs and loosens my muscles. My butt is numb from the cold truck, and Nathan has permanent goosebumps on his bare forearms, but I'm not sure either of us care.

Soon, an older guy I've never seen before appears beside the truck, distracting me from the line of kisses Nathan is currently pressing along my neck just under my ear.

The guy clears his throat, keys jangling in his hand. "Think I can get my truck back?" he says, his tone casual and slightly amused.

Nathan pulls back and meets my gaze, a smile playing at his lips. He helps me down, taking my hand as we step back from the guy's truck.

"Sorry about that," Nathan says.

The man lifts his eyebrows at Nathan, smiling wide. It's only then that I notice his Appies hat, and I remember that we're in a very public parking lot outside a restaurant full of fans.

I've seen other people leaving in my periphery, but I've been too distracted to care. For all I know, someone could have snapped a picture, even filmed us. That wouldn't be awesome, as I'm pretty sure our make-out session wouldn't qualify as the "family friendly" content Parker strives for. But there's nothing we can do about it now.

We step away from the Chevy as it rumbles to life and stand in the shadow of a red SUV. With my hand still in his, Nathan leads me across the parking lot toward my car. At first, I think we're simply relocating, which is fine with me—I'd love to pick up where we left off without an audience. But when we stop beside my driver's side door and I spin to face him, pressing my palms against his chest, there's something off—a distance that wasn't there before.

I briefly wonder if Nathan is also worried about the fans, but then he wraps his arms around me and breathes out a sigh, dropping his head onto the top of mine. Physically, he's here, but mentally, emotionally, I sense his retreat. This is bigger than a worry over social media, and I find myself bracing for whatever he says next, panic rising in my throat.

I can't let him run from this. This is too good, too right for him to retreat just because he's scared. And that has to be what he's doing. I don't know why he's so afraid to let himself feel. I don't know why he thinks he's destined to repeat his father's mistakes, but he's wrong.

He has to know that he's wrong.

I lean back, my hands shifting to grip his forearms, and take a huge, shaky breath. I know the risk of what I'm about to do. But I can't do this for one more day. I can't leave without telling him how I feel.

"Nathan, I'm in love with you," I blurt out.

His eyes widen the slightest bit, but he doesn't speak. Just swallows once, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"I know you said you don't want a real relationship, and I tried to fight it—I swear I did." I lift my shoulders in a shrug. "But I fell in love with you anyway."

Nathan doesn't answer for a very long time. So long that I start to feel queasy and look around for a bush just in case I need to barf out my nerves.

Lucy said to be brave, but the concept of bravery feels a lot tougher now that I'm face-to-face with possible rejection.

"I don't know what to say," Nathan finally says.

Oof. His words are a total gut punch, and my skin prickles with heat, fueled by a growing sense of embarrassment in my chest.

I can think of a few things he could say in response. I love you too would be an excellent place to start. But I won't make that demand of him. I didn't tell him because I needed him to say it back. I told him because I'm tired of pretending it isn't true.

Instead, I step forward, lifting my hands to his shoulders. He wraps his arms around my waist, which gives me just enough courage to keep talking. "I know this isn't what you wanted," I say. "You've been clear about that from the start. And maybe it wasn't fair of me to agree to fake it when I sensed how easy it would be to fall for you. But I can't pretend anymore. I can't keep giving you all of myself, all of my heart, without knowing I'm getting the same thing in return."

He presses his forehead to mine, his grip on me tightening. "I don't know if I can," he says. "If I even know how. I've been telling myself I can't for so long."

He lets me go, turning and walking a few steps away, his hands resting on his head.

Thankfully, the parking lot is momentarily quiet so there's no one to witness whatever is happening between us. There's no one to see how much this is breaking my heart.

I close my eyes, willing the tears not to fall. I knew this would be a possibility. That this would be hard for him no matter how things played out. "I know," I say. "I do. But Nathan, my heart's already in this. I'm in too deep. I can't just keep pretending, hoping that you'll eventually decide this is what you want."

He spins around, fire flashing in his eyes. "Of course it's what I want," he says, his voice broken and husky. "It's never been a question of desire. I wanted you the moment I laid eyes on you, and I've wanted you every moment since." He hesitates, his mouth opening and closing like he just can't find the right words. "Summer, the only thing more certain than how I feel is the inevitability of me disappointing you."

"You're wrong," I say, stupid tears coursing down my cheeks. "You don't know that. You can't know that. Life is all about risk. There are never any guarantees—especially not when it comes to love. You're refusing because you don't want to hurt me, but the person you're really hurting is yourself. You deserve to be loved, Nathan. So your schedule is stupid, and your job is hard. Shouldn't I be the one who gets to decide if you're worth it?"

He only shakes his head. "I'll just end up hurting you, Summer."

I shrug. "Maybe. But I already love you. Feels kinda stupid not to even try."

This, at least, makes Nathan's lips turn up in the barest hint of a smile, and he huffs out a little laugh. "It's not that easy."

"You're leaving for Boston tomorrow, right?" I ask, ignoring his last comment. "For Blake's plea hearing?"

He studies me before finally saying, "Yeah."

"What if you take the time you're away to think about things? Don't feel like you have to call or text. Just…take a break. See how you feel."

I don't want a break. I hate the idea of not talking to him, not texting him whenever I feel like it. But I hate the idea of losing him more, and I've thrown a lot of emotion at him in the last ten minutes. I mean, yes. A part of me absolutely wants to run and cry, wallow in the fact that I just said I love you and Nathan did not say it back.

But a bigger part believes he just needs a little more time to get used to the idea. He's scared. That doesn't mean he doesn't care about me. Even if my heart is completely inside out, giving him space feels like the right call.

"I'm heading to Silver Creek for a few days," I say. "There's a family thing on Sunday night that I don't want to miss. Maybe we can plan to talk next week?"

Nathan nods and then surprises me when he moves in close, taking my face in his hands and pressing a firm kiss to my lips. I hold onto him, pouring everything I have into the kiss, but there's still an edge to how I'm feeling, a desperation laced around the margins that makes my muscles tighten and lodges panic in my throat.

I can't shake the feeling that this kiss is Nathan saying goodbye.

But I have to let him go.

He knows how I feel.

All I can do is wait and hope he feels the same way.