“Yas,” he gasps, but I swallow it with another kiss.
Nixon’s arms wrap around me, lifting me up against the door so we’re at the same level. I wrap my legs around his middle, bringing him closer to me, as our kiss deepens.
“I missed you,” I breathe between the kisses. “So damn much.”
“Me too, baby.”
Tugging at his hair, I pull him back. We’re both panting, our heated breaths mingling together. “I hate you for what you did.”
Pain flashes behind his stormy eyes. “I hate myself more. So much more.”
“My brain tells me not to trust you, but my heart…” I swallow, my tongue darting out to wet my dry lips. “My heart wants you to stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” His hands tighten around me. “This time, I’m here to stay.”
Nixon leans his forehead against mine. “Let me show you. Let me show you I’m here to stay.”
I brush my fingers against his cheek. “Show me.”
So he does.
With his kisses.
With his every touch.
With his body.
This time it’s not about forgetting, this time it’s about finding ourselves, and that’s exactly what we do.
Epilogue
YASMIN
TWO WEEKS LATER
“Yasmin?”
“Huh?”
Nixon chuckles. “Where’s your mind at?”
I shake my head to clear my mind. “I’m sorry.” I offer him an apologetic smile. “I spaced out.”
He leans against his hand that’s propped on his mattress. We’re each sitting on the floor on either side of his king-sized bed. It was the only way we could prevent our hands from wandering while we had to study.
“You worrying about finals?”
“Not really.” Nixon gives me a doubtful look. “Okay, a little, but that’s not what’s on my mind.”
“Then what is on your mind?”
“It’s Tuesday.”
Nixon opens his mouth, his lips forming a little O as the realization settles in. “Dinner night.”
“Dinner night,” I confirm, turning the page. Maybe he’ll get the memo and leave this subject be.
“Have you talked to him at all?”
Or maybe not.
Sighing, I let the book fall shut and put it down. Apparently there was no avoiding this conversation. “What for?”
Nixon and I never talk much about the coach or my relationship with him. Not even just after he found out about it. The knowledge was always there, but we ignored it. Until now.
“I don’t know,” he sighs. “To get closure?”
“Like you talked to your dad?” I know it’s a low blow, but the words are out before I can stop them.
I don’t expect him to answer, and I’m about to apologize when he surprises me. “No, I haven’t. Not since the reading of the will. And I don’t think I’m going to.”
Leaning over the mattress, I put my hand over his. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”
The relationship between Nixon and his dad is a sore subject on the best of days, and bringing it up was totally unnecessary.
“Maybe, but it doesn’t make it less true.”
“We make quite a pair, don’t we?”
“In more ways than one.” Nixon swipes his thumb over my palm. “I thought about it, talking to him, but I can’t do it. Not right now, maybe not ever. It’s like all he ever taught me was a lie. The man I knew, the man I believed him to be, doesn’t exist. I can understand that he was hurting too, but so were we, and we stayed.”
“Coach left too.”
“Before you were born.”
“You think that makes it easier?”
“What I think is that he’s been trying. Maybe you should give him a second chance.” Nixon lifts my hand and presses his mouth against the inside of my wrist. A shiver runs through my body at his touch. There is no hiding how he affects me. “You gave me a second chance, and we both know I didn’t deserve it. You have a big heart, are you sure there isn’t just a little bit of space left for him?”
“Mom said he’ll be waiting for the day I’m ready.” I nibble at my lip, unsure of what to do. That thought has been on my mind since she said it, and for whatever reason I couldn’t seem to let it go. “Same place, same time. But what if he isn’t there? What if I go, and he disappoints me once again?”
What if he breaks my heart once again?
Nixon cups my cheek. “Then I’ll be there to help you heal.”
“I’d be happier if you’d break his nose instead. A lot messier and more satisfying.”
He chuckles. “Deal.”
I switch my weight from one leg to the other as the doorbell echoes inside the house. My palms are so sweaty I have to rub them against my legs.
It’s going to be okay. It’s just dinner.
If he’s even here.
I look over my shoulder at Nixon’s car parked against the curb. He’s watching me, and I have this sudden urge to go back to him and demand we leave right this instant.
Breathe, he mouths.
I nod, sucking in some much-needed air.
I almost miss the sound of footsteps approaching with the buzzing in my ears. The door swings open, and Coach appears on the other side.
“Yasmin?” He looks at me and then over my shoulder before returning his gaze to me. “What are you doing here?”
“I came for dinner.”
“Dinner?”
“You said you’d be here. Same place, same time.”
Did he change his mind? Díos, this is so mortifying.
“I did.” He nods, but doesn’t attempt to move.
“Well, I’m here.”
Hello, Captain Obvious.
“For dinner?”
“Dinner,” I nod, then quickly add, “Not talking.”
Dinner I can do, but I can’t deal with another one of our forced conversations.
“Okay, we can have dinner then.” He takes a step back, letting me inside. “Come on in.”
Slowly, I enter the house. It’s not the first time I’ve been at his house, but with how wary I am, you’d think it is. I’m not sure what I expect to find—or not find—but everything looks normal. Like it usually does.
In silence, we walk to the kitchen. I can feel his presence behind me, looming over me.
When I come to the kitchen doorway, I stop in my tracks.
The table is set for two, as usual. Only one plate is filled with food.
“I’d have waited if I knew you were coming,” he says from right behind me, sounding almost apologetic.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I croak out, “I-it’s fine.”
And this time I really mean it.
Looking over my shoulder, I face him. “It’s fine.”
Coach smiles. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile before. It makes him look… softer, I guess. He nods his head toward the table. “Dinner, no talk,” he promises.
Maybe, just maybe, there is still hope for us.