Page 147 of Nash
"I trust you." She says it simply.
"My girl." I press my mouth to her forehead. Hold it there. My eyes sting. I don't pull away. "My girl."
She cries again. Quietly. Her tears are warm against my chest. I hold her and let her cry but don't tell her to stop. My hand moves through her hair. My chest aches with something I can't name and don't need to.
I hold her until the tears stop. Until her breathing evens out. Until her fingers relax against my skin and her body settles into mine. She's warm under the blanket. Her makeup is ruined. Her lipstick is gone. Something behind her eyes is different. Softer. Open.
"Nash."
"Yeah."
"Thank you."
I pull her closer. My arms tighten around her.
The drive home is silent. I dressed her in the room carefully, the skirt and top going back on piece by piece. She watched me pull my clothes on with half-closed eyes and a quiet mouth.
Ruby curled against my side in the truck with my arm around her shoulders and her hand resting on my thigh. The streetlights pass over the windshield. Willowridge sleeps.
At the apartment, I carry her inside. She wraps her arms around my neck and lets me. No joke about being carried. No commentary. Just her body against mine.
I set her in bed. Pull the covers back. Undress her again, gently this time, the skirt, the top, the heels. She lies naked against the sheets and watches me. I climb in beside her and pull her against my chest.
Her hand rests over my heartbeat. My hand rests in her hair.
"Nash."
"Yeah."
"I didn't know I could be quiet like that."
My hand moves through her hair. Slow. The apartment breathes around us.
"The quiet was always there," I say. "You just never had somewhere safe enough to find it."
Her fingers press against my chest. Her breathing slows. Then her body goes heavy against mine.
I hold her. The apartment's dark. The streetlight through the window casts one thin line across the floor. Her breath evens out into sleep.
Chapter 33
Nash
I'minthekitchenwith coffee when my phone buzzes on the counter. Ruby is still asleep in the bedroom, her hair fanned across the pillow, one arm wrapped around the spot where I was. Phoenix's name fills the screen.
"Nash."
"I'm in Willowridge." His voice is measured, controlled, the cadence of a man who runs conversations the way he runs rooms. "I need to see you before anyone else. Alone."
"Where?"
"The diner on Main. Thirty minutes."
He disconnects. I set the coffee down and look toward the bedroom. Ruby hasn't moved. Her breathing is slow, even, andher body is still deep in the sleep of a woman recovering from what I did to it twelve hours ago.
I pull on jeans and a shirt, then grab my cut from the chair. I scribble a note on the pad by the coffeemaker and leave it next to her mug.
Had to run out. Back soon. Drink water. Take the ibuprofen on the counter. Don't argue with the note.
