“Have you seen Nash?” I asked.
She tilted her head toward the back door. “I believe he’s in the pool.”
I went to the French doors. I could barely see the edge of the water over the veranda with its carved balustrade. But I saw enough to see a hand slice through the water.
“Perfect. You’re sure you don’t need help?”
“Absolutely!”
I hurried up the stairs, found my swimsuit I was grateful I’d thrown into my bag at the last minute, and tossed my sundress over it as a cover-up before making my way down the back stairs, through the conservatory, and out to the pool. It was almost too cool for a swim, but it hadn’t seemed to dissuade Nash. He was swimming laps—facedown, barely ever breaking his head out of the water to breathe, holding his breath so much longer than the average human being. But that was the SEALs for you. They didn’t do anything normal. Not even break down.
I waited for him to be heading away from me before leaving my dress on a lounge chair and diving in. He was already heading back toward me by the time I was only halfway across. His hands stalled upon seeing me but then kept going.
I ignored him just like he was ignoring me. He did two or three times as many laps as me with ease. Eventually, he got out, and I could feel him watching me as he sat on the edge of the pool, feet dangling in the water. I kept going until my body started to ache and object. Then, I forced myself to do a few more rounds before pulling myself up next to him on the side. Our feet swayed in the water, occasionally bumping into each other as the silence settled over us.
“In training, they pretty much waterboard you,” he said, breaking the silence with words that startled me into looking at him. He wasn’t looking at me, however. Instead, his gaze was toward the trees and the fields. “You get used to being surrounded and invaded by water, swallowing enough of it that your lungs scream, and your entire body fights against death. There’s always a sense that it’s right there waiting for you if you stop moving.”
My hand went over the top of his, trying to give him some comfort like I’d tried to do this morning. He didn’t even seem to notice it as he continued talking.
“Every time it happened, all I could think was,this is what my mom felt. But instead of fighting, she let herself sink into it. She gave in. She let the water take her.” His voice got scratchy as he said the words, and he swallowed hard, as if holding back emotions. My heart thudded.
His mom had died. Had drowned in the water.
“I was the one to find her that night. At the pond. Pretty much where you were today.”
Sorrow hit me at the same time the guilt did.
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Nash.” I leaned my head on his shoulder, wrapping my arm into his and drawing us closer as I wondered if our times together would ever not be filled with regret. “What happened?”
He didn’t exactly lean into me, but I felt his muscles give just a little, as if he was letting go of some of the tightness which always resided in him.
“I don’t know, really. In my early childhood, she was so happy it was like skating on a cloud to be around her. She and my dad traveled a lot, hunting the world for unique flowers and plants to add to the farm’s collection. When I was ten, there was a freak accident with one of the tractors; the bucket fell on top of my dad and killed him.”
My breath caught. A boy losing his dad and his mom. So much heartache.
“After that, she just sort of withered away. Like she couldn’t survive without him.”
My mind flew to Tristan. To another widow unable to move on. And Nash’s need to take care of her took on a whole new dimension. It wasn’t just because of Darren and the culpability he felt. It was because he was trying to save Tristan when he hadn’t saved his mom.
“By the time I was thirteen, I’d gotten to the point where I couldn’t quite sleep when I knew she was having a bad day. There were times when I’d find her sobbing, sitting on the top of the steps like she couldn’t even gather the energy to go down the stairs. That night, I heard the steps, the squeak on the third one down. The moan as the wood awoke. The house whispering to me. But I’d been out in the fields all day,learning.That was what Carson called it when, really, it was just working like every other laborer. I was exhausted and fell back asleep. Then, something woke me up with a stab to my gut. It had me sitting straight up. To this day, I don’t know what it was.”
Nash pulled my fingers into his. Intimate. Personal. Connected in a way I’d never been with another human being. Feeling his pain as if it were my own.
“I checked the house. I checked the conservatory. I checked the pool, and then I just kept moving. By the time I got to the pond, her body was partly on the shore, glowing in the moonlight in a pale nightgown. I ran over to her, and I didn’t know what to do after I’d pulled her out. I didn’t know CPR, and I didn’t have a cell phone. I started screaming for help and screaming at her.”
My fingers tightened on his, letting him finish on his own terms.
“By the time Carson found me, she’d already been there awhile. He pulled me away from her, back to the house so he could call 9-1-1. I kept wanting to go back, and he kept telling me she was already gone. But he hadn’t even tried to save her.”
He’d replaced his swim goggles with sunglasses when he’d gotten out, and when he bent his head down to look at me, I couldn’t see what was going on in his eyes. He slid back into the pool, facing me and the wall, pushing between my legs. Another intimate move that wasn’t the norm for us but one my body welcomed.
“You asked about my parents. That’s their story. It’s also why, this morning…” He trailed off.
I lifted the sunglasses from his face so I could see his deep-green eyes and the emotions swirling there. The wide-open pain in them made my breath stop. Made my heart twist and turn into a new shape that he marked with his name.
And it hit me. I was fucking in love with Nash Wellsley. I was in love with a man who would never be mine because he was tied to regrets and despair that went way beyond anything I could imagine. A loss he’d grown up with.
I didn’t know what he read in my look. I was hoping it wasn’t the love. But whatever he saw, it was enough to have him groaning and pulling my face to his. It was enough that he put his lips on mine and kissed me with a meaning I didn’t understand. Pushing and tugging on my lips and tongue. Searing himself into my being. Demanding a return I easily gave. My hands trailing from his neck to the sharp bristle of his hair before trailing back to his shoulders and the muscles that covered him even more than the tattoos.
