SITTING AROUND doing nothing wasn’t really Nicholas’s thing, but he was far too committed to this scheme now. If he had to hang out nearly naked in these woods for the whole day, he would, damn it. Even if that meant most of that time was spent battling every doubt under the sun.
She wouldn’t show up.
She’d show up and be pissed.
She’d already left town.
When he heard footsteps crunching over twigs and grass, he exhaled long and low and opened his eyes. She walked into the clearing, taking his breath away. “You look beautiful,” he said huskily, forgetting the speech he’d prepared.
Livvy placed her hands on her hips. She wore the same clothes from yesterday, her hair was uncombed, and there wasn’t a trace of makeup on her face.
Beautiful. As always.
“What the fuck are you doing, Nico?”
So beautiful.
Aware he had a dopey smile on his face, he shrugged. “I wanted to get your attention.”
“Well, you got it. What were you thinking?” She stomped over and dropped the box she carried in his lap.
He opened the flaps, smiling when he saw the cannoli inside. “You saw the sign in the bakery?”
“Yes.”
“‘i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart).’ I read the poem. Pretty. You’re not the only one who’s been carrying someone’s heart with you. I may not have put you on my skin, but you’ve always been close at hand.” Pretending not to see the tremble of her lips, he reached inside and picked up a cannoli, taking a bite of the sweet, cream-filled dessert. He offered her the other one and she shook her head.
He finished the whole thing in a greedy couple of gulps and dusted his hands off, putting the box aside. He’d feed the second one to her later. In his bed. “Thanks for coming.”
“I didn’t think you’d be naked. Presumptuous, aren’t you?”
He was, technically, not totally naked—he still wore his boxer briefs, but since he was covered by a quilt as a nod to the weather, she could be forgiven for thinking that. “I wanted to give you easy access.” He held out a Sharpie. “You still haven’t shown me what tattoo you’re gonna give me.”
She stared at the Sharpie. “You’re kidding me.”
“You want to talk to me? Give me a tattoo.” He was no fool. He liked having her touching him, but more importantly, drawing calmed her.
With shaking hands, she accepted the permanent marker. She looked down at him, and then knelt next to him on the blanket he’d spread out under their tree. “Turn over.”
Obligingly, he rolled over onto his stomach. “Is this going to be another nude?”
“No. I know what I want to put on you.” The tip of the marker touched his shoulder. The sensation tickled, but he held still.
He closed his eyes and pillowed his head on his arms. The fall air was chilly, but the sun was shining. Anyway, he couldn’t help but feel hot when Livvy had her hands on his body.
“Honestly, what the hell were you thinking with that big display?”
“The sign?”
“Yes, the sign.”
He gestured at the tree. “You made it sound like a joke when we were kids, how you wished I’d woo you. It wasn’t a joke. You thought a grand gesture of love was romantic. I wanted to give you one.”
The marker paused. “Oh Nico.”
“I see who you are, Livvy.”
Her breathing came faster. “I don’t know—”
“What was our agreement?”
“Which one?”
“The original one. All those years ago, when you sent me that first message.”
“One night.” She swallowed, audibly. “No one will know.”
“That agreement, you were right, it wasn’t healthy for us. And yet, there were some years of my life when that night with you was the highlight of twelve months.”
She was silent above him. He was barely clothed, and every word stripped him down further. He welcomed the vulnerability. Like the pain of confronting his father, it felt productive. “When Eve was sick, I didn’t leave her side for a night, except for those ten hours with you. You gave me the strength to go back to the hospital and sleep on that couch in the pediatric ward for weeks.”
“I did?”
“You did.” He breathed deeply, releasing the protective mechanisms he’d carried all his life. “You’re not my secret anymore. My love for you is bigger than anyone who might try to tear us apart.” He paused. “I won’t leave you, Livvy. You don’t have to trust me completely right now, but watch me. Watch me fight for you this time.”
A drop of wetness fell on his back. Since she was still drawing, he didn’t turn around, though he hated the thought of her weeping. “Your family—”
“My father knows. He knew before I came to you yesterday. He’s the only one who would disapprove of us, and I am done living my life so it revolves around him. You’re my family. You always have been. I promise you won’t have to carry the emotional load this time.”
She didn’t speak, but the marker lifted from his skin. “I’m done.”
He tried to crane his neck around, but the drawing was out of his range of eyesight. “I can’t see. My phone’s over there. Can you take a picture?”
She stretched over him to grab his phone from where it sat on his neatly folded clothes. “What’s your password?”
His first instinct was to tell her he would enter it, but he swallowed the urge down. Quietly, he rattled the numbers off.
The phone slipped out of her hands. “How long has that been your password?”
“Always,” he admitted. He used different passwords or combinations for various other stuff, but the things that were personal—his phone, his home—they were all protected by some variation of Livvy’s birthday.
“Jackson said it was your home security system code. I didn’t fully believe him.”
“It was.” He’d changed it after Jackson had broken in, and resented the younger man every time he had to type in the new randomly generated code. “Now take a picture.”
She picked up the phone, fumbling as she entered the numbers. “I probably don’t want to know why Jackson knows the code to your home, do I?”
“Maybe not right now,” he conceded.
Livvy snapped a picture of his back and avoided his eyes when she handed the phone to him. “It’s a sketch,” she said defensively, like he would judge her.
It took him a second to understand what he was looking at. The drawing was rough, but even in the quick lines, he could see the beauty of the design. It was a compass, similar to the one on her back, though hers was dreamy and paint-splattered and colorful.
A crown capped the N at the top of the north arrow. He used his fingers to zoom in on that crown. The outline of it consisted of precisely printed numbers. He had to tilt the phone to understand the significance. “It’s this place,” he said, with a sense of wonder. “The coordinates. You just came up with this on the fly? Like the mermaid or the fairy?”
She concentrated on capping the marker like it was imperative that the thing not dry out. “No. I thought of it a few years ago.”
He looked at her sharply. “It’s similar to yours.”
IF SHE’D tattooed him for real, he’d see how closely it matched hers. Livvy wouldn’t do his in watercolor. It would be sharp neat lines. The intricacy of the compass, though, that would be the same. “I don’t have a crown.” She’d left it off, finding it far too painful to put the numbers designating their special place on her skin.
“I love it. I want it done properly.”
She snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous for me to put some literal skin in this game.” He sat up, his abdomen muscles clenching and releasing. Not like she was noticing things like his muscles or his lovely smooth olive-toned skin or the trail of hair on his belly.
She averted her eyes from the bulge at his lap under the blanket. Nope. Not noticing at all.
“Come here,” he murmured, and she allowed herself to be tugged forward, because she wanted nothing more in the world than to keep touching him.
He arranged her so she sat astride him. “What’s holding you back?”
Fear and anxiety swirled inside her. “You know.”
“You think I can’t love you because of the depression?”
Her lips trembled. “It’s a chronic condition. I can manage it, and I’m in a good place now, but I can’t be cured.”
“I wouldn’t try to cure you.”
“You haven’t seen me during an episode. I kept those away from you before.”
“I haven’t.” He hesitated, looking out into the distance. When he met her gaze again, she could read his resolve and pain. “There are things you don’t know about me, too.”
“Like what?”
“My . . .” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “My father is awful.”
She made a face. “I know.”
“No, you don’t. No one does.”
“What do you mean?”
He ran his hand over his head. “The only ones who saw what he was truly like were my mother and me, and I guess Eve, though I tried to protect her from it.”
A chill ran down her spine at the dark, lost look in his eyes. “Did he hurt you?” The words were sharper than she intended, but she couldn’t help herself. The Chandlers and Kanes might have been close, but it was easy enough to miss all the dynamics in your own family, let alone someone else’s.
She felt sick, imagining all the ways Brendan could have hurt his son. She’d borrow Sadia’s knife, and cut the bastard.
“Not physically. He’d yell, throw things. Belittle, manipulate.”
“Emotional abuse. Mental.” Still totally stab-able offenses.
Livvy unclenched her fists, trying to focus past her anger. Nico needed her now. Later. Later she’d hunt Brendan down and start cutting.
“Whatever it was, it’s left its mark on me.” His smile was tight and humorless. “I know I’m not good at expressing my emotions. I’m rigid and I have control issues. I want to do better by you, and I will, but I’ll probably slip up now and again. I’m not perfect either, whatever perfect even means. You’ll have to love all of me, just like I’ll love all of you.”
She ran her hands down his arms to his hands, capturing them in hers. They were strong hands, the fingers long and capable.
You can be strong and have moments of incredible despair. Those moments are not weaknesses. They are simply moments. And they are not you.
He interlaced his fingers with hers, squeezing tight. “I’m not a prince. This is not a fairy tale. This is reality, with all its problems and hassles and issues and absurd family dynamics, and I want you with me. Honestly.”
I deserve compassion.
She was standing on a precipice. There was beautiful water below, the color of Nico’s eyes. Rocks, too, though, hidden underneath. “I’m scared.”
“So am I. Let’s be scared together.” He dipped his head to brush his lips over hers, a delicate ghost of a caress.
“You like predictability and order. I’ll mess your world up.”
He smiled. “Order’s overrated. I don’t care if you leave your clothes all over our bedroom or dishes in the sink or you run off somewhere on a whim for a week. Those are superficial things. The most predictable, dependable thing in my life was always you.”
If she wanted to throw up more road blocks, she didn’t have to look far. “Living here could be a challenge. We have so much history.” Good, bad, and in-between, this town held their past.
“We’ll move.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Uh, what?”
“If you didn’t want to live here, we could move. I’m sure I can figure out something for work.”
He’d walk away from his home and this place for her? Just like that?
She was silent for so long his expectant look turned to concern. “I wouldn’t be happy without you, Livvy. Would you?”
She hadn’t expected him to so casually propose moving away. Livvy compressed her lips. “You’ll fight for us?”
He nodded. “I’ll fight for us,” he vowed.
What if he doesn’t? What if he quits?
Then she’d hurt, and weep. She’d lean on the support systems she’d fought so hard to reclaim and she’d get through it, like she’d gotten through so much in her life already. “There will be problems. There’ll be pain.”
“Every relationship has peaks and valleys. We’ll work through them.”
She took a deep breath, and took the leap. “I want a steady supply of cunnilingus. Not because you feel grateful, but because you actually enjoy it.” She reflected. “Actually, you can feel a little grateful.”
His muscles went taut. Stunned hope flitted across his face. She wanted to weep at the sight of it.
Cool and controlled. Or hot. For a decade, those were the only emotions he’d allowed her to see.
This was beautiful. She’d treasure every feeling he trusted her with, collect them with her own in invisible containers.
“I’ll start now,” he said, his voice hoarse.
She twined her arms around his neck. “Okay.”
He cocked his head. “Okay what? Okay you want oral sex, or okay you’ll give us a shot?”
“Yes. To both of those.”
The brilliant smile that spread across his face had her grinning in return.
With a twist of his body, he had her on her back. He lowered himself on top of her, making a place for himself between her legs like he was home. “You can’t just say okay. Not after I poured my heart out.”
“You want a speech or something?”
“You’re not the only one who needs to be wooed.”
Livvy scraped her nails over the back of his neck. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. That grand gesture was silly and expensive, but you’re right, I adored it. There were times that one night with you got me through every other day of the year. You’re under my skin—literally. We’ll get those matching tattoos, but not today, not next week, not when we’re running high on endorphins, but after we’ve actually faced some problems and come out on top, because we’re motherfucking adults now, not dumb kids.” She paused. “Did I miss anything?”
He rubbed his nose against hers. “Instead of the N for north on my tattoo, can you make it an L?”
She had to clear her throat twice before she could speak. “I think so.”
“Also, I would like to try that whole blowjob thing some more.”
Tenderness ran through her at his deliberately light tone. “We can definitely work on that.”
With his thumb, he carefully stroked a strand of hair away from her cheek. “You make me happy. We deserve to be happy.”
I deserve compassion. “Yes.”
He shifted and traced his finger over the ellipsis on her wrist, making a perfect box shape around the three dots. She had to bite back the purr of pleasure in her throat. “You never told me what this one meant,” he said.
“It’s to remind myself my story isn’t over, even if it feels like life is paused or like I’m wandering.”
He rested his forehead against hers, and for a few brief moments, the only noise was the sound of his breath and hers and the rustle of leaves. Between the layers of clothes and blanket, his cock was thick and heavy against her leg, but he was in no hurry. Neither was she.
They had time.
“Let me be a part of your story,” he finally said.
She released a shaky laugh. “You always have been.”
“Good.” He pressed a perfect, intimate, chaste, life-changing kiss on her cheek. “You’ll always be a part of mine.”