Page 160 of The Storm

Nova opens her eyes, gets to her feet, and manages to take a few steps before she slumps into Nick, head in his lap, legs on the couch between us, and then she’s asleep again.

Nick chuckles softly and looks up at me. There are so many unspoken words between us. Unspoken words and broken promises. But those are background noise right now. They barely register and are easy to ignore because he’s here, and I’m here, and it’s been so long.

We’re in a bubble of peace. It’s not real, and we both know it, but neither of us is going to break it either.

I miss him.

It’s the simple truth I’ve been trying to bury for so long. I do. I miss him. So maybe it’s okay if I steal this moment? Maybe just for a little bit, I can remember what it was like before the lying and the anger.

“A drink?” he asks.

“What do you have?”

“No idea. I think there’s beer? Probably some tequila.” He starts to get up, but I stop him with a hand on his knee. My cheeks heat, and I pull my hand away.

“I’ll go get it. You’re busy being a pillow.” I point at the dozing puppy, and he shrugs and grins.

“The cabinet on the left,” he says when I stop in the kitchen.

I take the tequila down, grab the salt, and quickly slice a lime into wedges.

“Glasses?” I ask.

He points to another cabinet.

I haul everything to the couch and set it all down on the coffee table clumsily. Salt spills everywhere. I don’t care too much. Mostly, I’m reckless.

It’s all pretty unceremonious. I unscrew the cap and pour it into shot glasses, then hold one out to him. He sets it down in front of him before he takes the lime wedge between his fingers. His gaze flicks to mine as he licks the salt between his thumb and index finger.

He holds his glass up toward me. I fumble with the salt.

“Cheers,” he says in a low voice.

We both toss the tequila back. I can’t stop staring at the way his throat moves, barely even noticing the taste.

I pour us another round of shots.

I down my next shot, and that’s the moment he chooses to ask, “Are you fucking Dylan?”

I start to cough, tequila spraying out of my mouth onto the front of my shirt while I try to catch my breath. He leans forward and pats my back while Nova sends us an annoyed look, jumps off the couch, and trots away.

“Shit,” Nick says. “Sorry. I just…” His jaw clenches. “Just tell me.”

He seems nervous. At least, I think it’s nerves. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him like this.

I put my shot glass down slowly and face him. “Why do you want to know?”

He shakes his head. Drags his fingers through his hair. “I don’t really. But I need to know anyway.”

I’m not angry, just tired all of a sudden.

“You lost the right to know anything about me six years ago.”

“I’m asking anyway.”

A short, harsh laugh escapes my lips. I just wanted a moment of fantasy. A few minutes of imagining life went differently for us. A second of illusion where this is our home, and everything turned out like it was supposed to.

“Blue,” he says.