Chapter 72
“Nathan,” I whisper, my voice wobbling.
He doesn’t move, his eyes darting between mine but unseeing.
“Nathan!” I say a little louder.
“Nathan.” I struggle against the iron grip on my wrist. “You’re hurting me,” I whimper.
Somehow, that breaks the spell, and he blinks.
Recognition glints in his eyes, and his clenched face slackens. His eyes take me in, and they widen.
He swears as he releases my wrist and rolls off me.
My heart still pounds as I sit up, rubbing my wrist.
Nathan sits on the other edge of the bed, his back to me. He holds his head in his hands, and I hear him swear softly.
For a moment, I just sit there, staring at his muscular back, glistening with sweat. I have no idea what to say or do. It feels like if I break the silence, something might snap.
After what feels like forever, Nathan finally speaks. “I’m sorry.” His voice is rough and holds the anguish that was on his face earlier.
“A–are you okay?” I ask softly.
Nathan shakes his head and repeats, “I’m sorry.”
Using my legs to move me, I shuffle across the bed and end up at the edge beside him.
He stiffens at the proximity, but I don’t move.
“Wanna talk about it?” I whisper.
Nathan looks at me, and the look of pure despair and regret in his eyes makes my breath hitch.
He glances down at the wrist I’m cradling in my lap and curses again. “Fuck.” He reaches for me, but his hand stops midway. “Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head, moving my wrist to my side so he can stop looking at it with so much pain in his eyes. In hindsight, I feel foolish for the fear I felt earlier. This is Nathan, not Lucas.
And I know Nathan, in a million years, would never hurt me–at least not intentionally.
“I’m fine.”
It’s like he doesn’t hear me, considering how he keeps looking at me.
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da, UC 4
Chapter 72
I reach out and take the hand hung in mid air. I intertwine my fingers through if and squeeve. “Nathan,” His eyes fit to mine, and I give him a reassining smile. “I’m fine.”
He exhales deeply, like he’s been holding his breath for years.
*I’m so sorry, April.”
“Stop saying that.”
Nathan’s head drops, and he says nothing.
“I hate Thanksgiving.”
The statement is so random and bizarre that Nathan looks at me, his anguished expression dropping for a moment to be replaced by
confusion.
“What?”
I shrug. My heart skips a beat when it realizes what my brain is about to do.
“Every Thanksgiving, I have this recurring nightmare,” I speak through the lump that has formed in my throat.
“I’m eighteen, just finishing freshman mid–terms. I come home for Thanksgiving and…” I take a deep breath and say the remaining words without pause.
“My parents are lying on the floor, blue in the face. They both have needles in their arms. And then there’s June, lying next to them, also blue in the face. My parents have been dead for three days, and she’s been starving and hasn’t taken her insulin shots since then. I call 911 frantically, but no one comes. So I decide to take my sister to the hospital myself. But when I try to move, I can’t. My hands don’t work, my legs don’t stand.
“Then I start to scream. I scream and scream and scream, but no one comes to my aid. I just sit there helplessly watching as my sister’s breaths slow down and down and down–until they stop completely. And then, before my eyes, she starts to decay. Her skin rots and…”
I don’t realize I’m sobbing and hyperventilating until Nathan pulls me into his arms. I let out a choked sob as one of his hands strokes my back and the other tangles in my hair, holding me against his chest.
I don’t know what hits me harder, the memory of the dream or the memory itself–the day my world changed forever.
Either way, I curse myself silently for crumbling into a mess. I told Nathan about the dream, hoping he could trust me with whatever nightmare haunts him.
“I’m…sorry.” I sniff against his chest. “I shouldn’t–I’m sorry.”
“If I had a penny for how many times both of us have said ‘sorry‘ over the last twelve hours, I could rebuild my house with them.”
A choked laugh escapes my lips as I reluctantly pull away from him.
I wipe my tears with the sleeve of my sweater. Nathan’s scent is stuck on the fabric, and I disguise my deep inhale with a sniff.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Nathan says softly.
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14:53 Sat, Oct 4
Chapter 72
I drop my hands into my lap and look at him. “Do you know why I did that?”
He sighs and nods.
I wait.
“I’m an ungrateful piece of shit.”
My eyes widen, less at the words, but at the potent self–loathing with which Nathan says them.
I gape. “Why would you say that?”
He scoffs bitterly. “Because it’s true.”
67
“Nathan-”
He looks at me, and the intensity in his eyes makes my breath still. “You have actual, bona fide trauma, and you work every day to rise above it. You’re so strong, April. Life hasn’t been kind to you, yet you wake up every day and face it head–on, ensuring June has the best you could possibly give her.”
Tears brim in my eyes. The feeling of being seen makes something warm flutter in my belly.
Nathan looks away as he continues. “I live a life many can only dream of. My family has more money than a small country; I literally lack nothing, and yet-”
“And yet?” I ask softly.
Nathan exhales. “I have night terrors.”
I say nothing, knowing he has more to get off his chest. “I’ve had them since I was eleven.” He curses softly. “Every fucking night since I was eleven.“.
My chest tightens. He’s had night terrors for ten years.
All those days I watched him in the hallway and dominate on the football field, I thought Nathan Ashford had the perfect life. But he would go home afterward, and every night, he would wake up sweating and screaming, his heart racing with intense fear.
Since I came to the competition, all my notions of Nathan being perfect have been slowly debunked, one adorable blunder after another. But now…
It’s like he’s tumbled off the pedestal I put him on, and I see him for who he really is.
Lonely, lost, and beautifully flawed.
And I realize in this moment, that what I feel for this boy is more than a crush or infatuation–I’m deeply, genuinely in love with Nathan Ashford.
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14:54 Sat, Oct 4
Winning the Heir Who Bullied Me
