Page 70 of Timelessly Ours
He’s looking at me as if…he didn’t think this through.
Reaching for me, he cups my face in his palms and kisses my forehead. “I’m so sorry.” The words are so soft I want to cry.
Before I can say anything to backtrack, he quietly offers to clean up the mess and takes me upstairs to my room, then whispers a gentle goodnight.
Shutting the door to my room, I let out a sigh and slump down against the wall, wondering how I could have ruined such a perfect evening.
What happened?
I don’t want to talk to my therapist about this. I know it would be the appropriate route, but right now, I just need a friend.
Since for obvious reasons, Angel is out of the question—I reach for my phone and call Cora.
I cringe when I realize something. She’s not going to answer. Nick just got back—the last thing she wants to do is talk to me. They’re probably…very busy.
“Hey girl,” she answers cheerfully.
“Oh, hi. I didn’t expect you to answer.”
“Just finishing up my facial routine before bed. Hold on, I need to rinse off.”
I wait as water runs in the background and it takes all of thirty seconds for me to realize how stupid I was for calling Cora at nearly midnight to talk about my ridiculous issues.
She once asked me—back when things between her and my brother were rocky—about my experience with men.
I never admitted it to anyone. Not even my therapist because that’s a whole new level of discussion I don’t want to approach. It would only trigger her bringing it up in future sessions and I don’t need that.
The embarrassing truth is…I don’t like being touched. And not just in an “I’m not much of a hugger” way. But something about physical—mostly male proximity—is off-limits for me. Except when I practically make out with Nick’s dog, Max. Totally down for that.
“Ah, okay, done. What’s up?”
“I just needed someone to talk to—but you sound busy—”
“Oh don’t be silly, I always have time for you and I am so wired. What going o—” She cuts off briefly, then comes back. “Oh, yeah. I’d love to come by tomorrow. Early? Of course. I don’t have to be at work until eleven. So, see you around nine?”
“Nick?” I ask dryly.
“Yep.”
Somehow, my best friend knew this conversation was not meant for his ears.
19
It’s out. All of it. Before I can stop myself. I pour my heart out the way it needed to be for weeks.
Cora and I are sipping coffee and wrapped in one big blanket on the swing in the back porch. She was already waiting for me by the time I returned from dropping off Rory at school.
Royce was gone before we woke up this morning—most likely out for a run before heading to the arena.
I’m not afraid to tell her about my feelings for Coach. But I am worried about what she’ll do with the other bit of information I fed her.
Poor thing. Of course, I choose the youngest of our group of friends to confide in.
To burden.
“Are you done?” she asks carefully.
“Yes. Of course. The whole thing was a mistake and I never want to touch that stuff again.”