Page 102 of The Storm

“For now,” Dia adds. “We’ll find out eventually.”

Great.

They drop it, though. We get our burritos, eat, and talk.

When Dia starts to yawn and almost falls asleep at the table we decide to wrap it up. We drop off Bridge at her place. By then, Dia is snoring softly in the back seat.

Bridge throws her a look and shakes her head. “She fell asleep when we were hanging out at my place earlier, too.”

“Yeah,” I say. “It’s like she was awake the whole time she was in LA and now she’s catching up or something. She’s been taking naps.”

“Really?” Bridge frowns. “But she hates napping.”

“I know. She keeps saying it’s jet lag.”

“Weird. Guess it’s lucky we still have plenty of summer left, so she can rest and recover.” She kisses me on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

I wave to her, and then I drive back home.

Nick climbsonto the roof through my window and lies down next to me. He balances himself on his elbow, puts his palm on my cheek, turns my face toward him, and kisses me.

“Hey,” he says when we finally manage to pry ourselves away from each other.

“Hey.” I smile at him. “You’re back.”

“The night really drags without anybody stalking me,” he says.

“Aww. You missed me.” I’m teasing and hoping at the same time.

His eyes are soft, and his hand on my cheek is gentle. His thumb keeps swiping over my skin like he can’t stop himself from touching me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says.

Growing up, I was mostly just skinny, and even if years of rowing have moved me from skinny to lean to wiry, it’s never really seemed like enough to earn the word beautiful. Handsome. Maybe? Beautiful? No.

But when Nick says it with that hoarseness in his voice and that intensity on his face, it’s difficult not to believe him.

He slides the pad of his thumb over my lower lip, and I bite it. He smiles.

There it is again.

The l-word.

TWENTY-EIGHT

INDY

“You actually convincedhim to come with us?” Dia asks as she watches Nick throw his backpack into the trunk of the car before he heads back inside. “What do you have on him? Something good? Because I could use some blackmail fodder for future favors I might need.”

“Be nice,” I say sternly.

“Since when did you two become friends?” Dia shakes her head. “This is so weird. Is he being decent to us because he’s planning to poison the whole family with one of those dinners he’s been cooking for us and wants to look innocent?”

I send her an exasperated look.

“What?” she says. “It’s a reasonable question. The guy’s been an asshole for years and now I’m gone for a bit, and he’s suddenly transformed into a decent person? I listened to a podcast about a woman who poisoned a bunch of family members because she wanted to get her hands on the inheritance.”

“Jesus Christ, Dia.”