Part I:
Breathe Again


The worst is over now
And we can breathe again
I wanna hold you high
You steal my pain away

There’s so much left to learn
And no one left to fight
I wanna hold you high
And steal your pain…

- “Broken” by Seether


Chapter 1

Golden rays of sunlight streamed through the sheer, billowing curtains, chasing away the shadows and filling the room with the light of dawn. In a large bed in the center of the spacious, sunlit room, a man stirred. He rolled over and sat up slowly, pushing a fluffy, white down comforter off of him to expose his tanned, bare chest. His head turned to look down at the woman lying beside him, still fast asleep, the covers pulled up to her neck. He smiled slightly and lowered himself back down. Propping himself up on one elbow, he turned to face her. He reached out to her, lightly running his finger over her face, making a trail down her porcelain cheek, tracing her plump, perfect lips.

At his touch, her eyelids fluttered, and she awoke, those perfect lips curving into a perfect smile at the sight of him.

“Good morning,” he whispered, his voice low and sultry, and leaned down to kiss her. Her arms rose to encircle his neck, and a moment later, the covers were swept aside, and he was on top of her. “You know what the best thing about morning is?” he asked, as he dotted her neck with kisses.

“What?” she moaned beneath him.

He lifted his head to meet her eyes. “Waking up next to you,” he answered, and before she could respond, leaned in closer and caught her mouth in a passionate kiss.

“I love you,” she whispered, as his lips left hers.

“I love you too…”


“What is this crap?”

The sound of her voice woke him up, or maybe it was the lawnmower. Whichever it was, it was enough to draw Nick Carter out of sleep. He awoke with a moan and blinked a few times as he looked around. He groaned when he found himself curled up in one corner of the couch. Claire was sitting up at the other end, throwing disdainful looks at the TV, which was turned on and probably had been all night.

“What crap?” he muttered, grimacing at how croaky his voice sounded. He cleared his throat a couple times as she pointed to the TV.

“This crap,” she replied, making a face.

“What is it?” Nick asked, as he watched a happy, perfect-looking young couple roll around beneath a fluffy comforter in a big bed, their skin glowing bronze and their hair shining in the morning sunlight that filled the room.

“I dunno, some lame movie. It was on when I woke up.”

He wondered how long she’d been awake. Apparently not long, he decided when he took a closer look at her, trying to hide his smile. She was a sight to see; that was for sure. Lost in one of his old hooded sweatshirts, her light red hair in tangles, her blue eyes still bleary with sleep…

Not that he probably looked any better. He ran a hand through his cropped blonde hair and rubbed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was met with the sight of a cluttered coffee table, hardy visible beneath the grease-stained pizza box, half-empty bags of chips, beer cans, and various dishes that had been haphazardly set down on it. He groaned again at the sight of the mess. Oh well. He’d take care of it later.

The loud buzz of the lawnmower next door met his ears again, and he scowled. “Who mows their lawn this early on a Saturday morning?” he ranted in annoyance.

“Friday,” Claire corrected, “and it’s not morning anymore. It’s noon.”

“Huh?” Instantly, his head turned toward the clock on his wall. The stiff muscles in his neck protested the movement, making him wince. Bad idea, falling asleep on the couch. Massaging the crick in his neck, he checked the time and saw that it was indeed just a couple minutes past noon. What a waste. They’d wasted the night away, watching movies and eating junk food, gotten rather wasted themselves, and then passed out on the couch and wasted the morning sleeping.

But Nick didn’t really care. A night of eating, drinking, and watching movies with Claire and then waking up by her side the next morning (okay, afternoon) – that was his idea of perfect.

Well, almost. He had a headache from the alcohol he’d had the night before, and that stupid lawnmower was only making it worse. Glancing over at Claire, he found her rubbing her temples and figured she had to feel about the same way.

“Headache?” he asked sympathetically.

She nodded. “You too?”

“Yep.”

“Ugh, we suck. You and I gotta work on building up our tolerance again. I only had… how many beers?” She counted the cans on the coffee table and smiled sheepishly. “Yeah… never mind.”

He chuckled. They had both had to give up alcohol at one point or another in the last two years because of chemotherapy treatments, and even though he hadn’t had chemo since the previous June, he hadn’t drunk much since then either. A couple beers here and there, but rarely more than that. Gone were the days when he would go out clubbing with his friends every weekend he was home and get plastered. These days, he was alienated from most of his friends, besides Claire and the “the guys” – the Backstreet Boys. They were the only ones who understood him and what he had been through, the only ones who were not at least slightly weirded out by what had happened to him. His other friends had drifted away, and he had let them. It only took a near-death experience to show you what and who was important, so he’d kept those who really mattered close, and screw everyone else. If they wanted to hang out, they could call him, but he was sick of trying to make small talk and listening to awkward silences on the other end of the line. He didn’t need that. He had people who cared about him and who accepted him the way he was, and that was all he needed.

That and a nice big mug of black coffee.

He stood up slowly and swore under his breath as he remembered something.

“What?” Claire asked, looking up at him, puzzled.

He patted his prosthetic leg. “Fell asleep and forgot to take this thing off and charge it,” he said, rather embarrassed. It was not the first time he’d done that, fallen asleep in front of the TV and forgotten to take off the C-Leg, which was battery-powered and meant to be plugged into his computer and re-charged every night. Usually, it was not much of a hassle, since he always took the leg off to sleep anyway. But then there were times like these when he would forget and have to charge it in the morning.

“How long does the battery last?” Claire asked.

“It’s supposed to last for I think thirty-six hours,” replied Nick, “but I better go charge it up now. I’ll be right back.”

His whole body rather stiff from sleeping in an awkward position on the couch, he hobbled off to his office, where his computer was, and returned a few minutes later on crutches, his prosthesis left charging beside the computer.

“You want coffee?” he asked Claire.

“Sure,” she said. “If you can handle making that, I’ll take care of clean up, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan,” he replied with a nod and made his way into the kitchen. “Aw, fuck!” he exclaimed when he saw the mess there. Sitting on the counter beside the refrigerator was a caved in container of ice cream. A sticky puddle of brown liquid that had once been chocolate ice cream surrounded it, slowly dripping off of the edge of the counter and leaving a trail of chocolate goo all down the cabinet below.

“We left the ice cream out all night,” he muttered flatly to Claire, who had come to see what his “aw, fuck!” was for.

She winced when she saw the mess and bit her lip. “Oops.”

“Yeah, oops is right. Ugh.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean that up; you start on the coffee.”

He shrugged. “Okay.” Glad that everything he needed for coffee was stored in reach of the coffee maker (since trying to carry a Folgers coffee can and haul himself around on crutches at the same time seemed sort of impossible), he propped his crutches up against the counter and set to work, while Claire mopped up the melted ice cream with a wet dish towel.

“Just throw that out,” he said when she walked by with the sodden towel, which was now the color of mud.

“Oh, it doesn’t need to be thrown out; it’ll wash up fine,” she replied, carrying it off toward his laundry room.

“No, seriously, throw it out,” he said again. “I don’t want it to get my clothes all nasty, and it’s gonna be all stained anyway.”

She shook her head, looking at him in disbelief. “Rich people… I swear.”

“What?!” he demanded, raising his eyebrows. “It’s just a stupid dish towel! I have plenty of ‘em already.”

“Yeah, but why throw it away? It’s only chocolate, it’s not like it’s dog shit or something.”

Because throwing it away just seemed easier, he thought with a shrug. “Fine, put it in the laundry,” he muttered, waving her off. Let her have her way; this was not something worth arguing over.

When the coffee was done, he filled two mugs. Claire carried them both over to his kitchen table, and they sat down together. He watched in amusement as she proceeded to dump several heaping teaspoons of sugar and a liberal amount of creamer into her coffee, stirring it until the once-black liquid was a creamy, light brown.

“What?” she asked sheepishly, when she saw him grinning at her. She chuckled. “I don’t really like coffee that much,” she admitted. “I love the smell, but not the taste. It’s only good for staying awake… or for hangovers.” Smirking, she took a sip, making a face as she swallowed.

He laughed and took a sip of his own coffee. “Yeah, well, after enough years of not enough sleep and not enough time, you grow to like coffee. Even black.” Yes, between jam-packed schedules, early wake-ups, and late night partying, coffee had always been a necessity for the Backstreet Boys, so he’d acquired that taste early on.

It wasn’t like that anymore though. Now he could sleep as much as he wanted and had all the time in the world. Whenever he was on the road touring, just one day to sleep in would have been a real treat. But now that he had every day to sleep in, he missed his hectic former life, with its jam-packed schedules, early wake-ups, and late night partying. He missed recording and touring and singing… hell, he even missed dancing. He couldn’t look at a folding chair without wanting to pick it up and bust a move from the “As Long as You Love Me” choreography. But he knew that would never happen. There were a lot of things he could still do on his prosthesis – walk, swim, play basketball… and hopefully one of these days, even run. But he would never be able to dance again. And as much as he’d once complained about the cheesy dance routines he and the guys had performed over and over again for years and years, he missed them. The chair dance, the hat dance, the “Everybody” dance… never again.

But he was convinced that other things would happen again. He could still sing, and that was all that really mattered. They could still record, and some day, there would be another album. And, hopefully, a tour. They hadn’t even toured for their last album yet. After what had happened after the last concert they’d done, Nick wasn’t sure there would be a tour anytime soon… but someday there would. Someday he’d be back on the road again.

For now, he was trying to enjoy his life at home. And he was. It was easy to enjoy life once you’d faced the fear of having it taken from you, and although life hadn’t exactly treated him kindly the last two years, things were all right now. His health was improving, and at home, he had peace and quiet and plenty of free time. And, of course, he had Claire. So basically, he had everything he wanted.

Well, almost everything.

***

Chapter 2

Claire Ryan staggered into her apartment and tossed her keys haphazardly toward her kitchen table. They hit the table, skidded straight across the smooth wood, and flew off the other end, landing with a jangling clatter on the linoleum floor. She made no move to pick them up. Instead, she breezed on by, dropping her purse onto one of the chairs, and turned the corner, ducking into the first room on her right.

She flipped on the light and shut the door behind her, turning to survey the tiny bathroom. She grimaced at the sight of it. She could hardly see the counter of her vanity for all the crap that was scattered across it. Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, hair brush and comb, blow dryer, flat iron, various makeup products… all still left there from her rush to get ready for work the previous morning. And it would have to remain there for now; she had no desire to straighten up yet. She needed a shower.

She started to shed her clothes and realized she was still wearing Nick’s sweatshirt. “Whoops,” she said, pulling the huge thing up and over her head. She tossed it to the floor. Add that to the collection. It was not the first sweatshirt of Nick’s that had accidentally ended up in her place (and stayed there – she always seemed to “accidentally” forget to return them… not like he really noticed; the guy had more clothes than any girls she knew, even her friend Dianna), and it would probably not be the last. It wasn’t her fault; he always had the air conditioning cranked in his house, making it so she was always freezing.

She wasn’t freezing anymore though; she was actually quite warm, and it felt good to get the sweatshirt off. “Serves you right for wearing a sweatshirt when it’s the end of March and you live in Florida,” she muttered to herself, quickly stripping off the rest of her clothes and leaving them in an untidy heap on the floor. She went over to the shower, turned on the water full blast, and climbed in, expelling a sigh as the hot water washed over her aching body, which was stiff and sore from sleeping on Nick’s couch all night. Add that to the fact that her head was still pounding from the hangover she’d woken up with, and the result was that she felt like crap all-around. Hopefully a nice long shower would help.

She squirted some shampoo into the palm of her hand and worked it through her short red hair, closing her eyes as she massaged her scalp with sudsy fingers. She had always loved washing her hair, especially lately, now that it had grown to a decent length again. Twice in the past five years, all her hair had fallen out, the result of chemotherapy treatments for her leukemia. It was not the worst of the many side-effects she’d had to endure, but though she’d tried to look on the bright side (“Well, at least I won’t have to worry about doing my hair in the morning. And I can always get a wig and totally change hairstyles if I want to”), when it came down to it, the whole thing just sucked.

But that was behind her now. She’d finished up her last course of chemo after her bone marrow transplant a year and a half ago. All of the short-term side effects were gone, her wig (a shoulder-length, raven black piece) was hidden away in her closet somewhere, and just by looking at her, one would never know she’d had cancer. She was lucky. Lucky to be alive, lucky to have sailed through the transplant that saved her life, and lucky to have come out of the ordeal fairly unscathed, at least on the outside.

Nick had not been so lucky. He was slowly coming to accept what had happened to him, but at the same time, she knew he was still bothered by it. He was still horribly insecure, self-conscious whenever he was not wearing his prosthetic leg and a pair of long pants, even in front of her. He didn’t have to be though; she wasn’t bothered by it. She had been at first, though she’d tried her best to hide it from him. It had been hard seeing him those first few days after the amputation. But now, almost a year later, the sight of him with or without the prosthesis had become second nature to her. That was just Nick.

Her Nick.

The two of them been “dating” for almost four months now; they had made it official on New Year’s Eve. There had been few dates that first month though, while Nick was still recovering from lung surgery. But things had picked up in February, and now that it was nearing April, the initial awkwardness of the change in their relationship was gone, and they felt like a real couple. They were taking things slow though, savoring every moment they spent together, not wanting to go too fast and spoil the friendship they had.

But Claire liked it that way. Finally, she was happy. Happier than she had been in a long time. She had not been in a relationship that seemed this perfect since she’d been with Jamie, her high school sweetheart. She and Jamie were still friends, but to her, he represented her past, the tail end of her childhood, before college, before cancer, and before Nick. It was nice to look back on the past, but now that everything in her life seemed to be back in order, she was ready to look to the future.

Right then, though, she was taken to the present. With a start, she realized she had been spacing out and wondered how long she’d been standing there in the shower, wasting water. She smirked to herself and dipped her head under the spray, rinsing the foam from her hair. She finished washing herself quickly and got out, grabbing a towel to dry off.

Within a few minutes, she had changed into an old t-shirt and baggy pair of sweatpants, downed a couple of ibuprofen for her headache, quickly cleaned up her bathroom, and was sprawled across the sunken couch in her living room. She turned on the TV and immediately flipped to The Learning Channel, only to find a woman screaming in the delivery room on an episode of “A Baby Story.” Frowning, she switched to Comedy Central instead and was pleased to find the movie “Office Space” just starting. Setting down the remote, she lay back to watch. It felt so nice to have an afternoon to herself, with nowhere to be and nothing to do. She loved having days off. She usually ended up spending them with Nick, but after a whole night with him, she was ready to go back to her own place, veg on her own couch, and nurse her hangover in peace.

***

At the same time the following Friday, Claire was back at work in the dentist’s office where she was employed as a dental hygienist. Right then, though, she was seated at the front desk, filling in for the receptionist while she took a late lunch break. Although she liked working on patients better, she didn’t mind working the desk for an hour at a time and was usually the one to volunteer for the job. It was nothing new for her; for the first few months after she had come back to work following her bone marrow transplant, they had put her at the front desk. Her immune system had been virtually wiped out during the transplant, and because even a simple cold could be very serious, it had not been a good idea for her to handle patients at first. Instead, she’d become a pro at handling scheduling and phone calls.

She was on the phone right now, trying to calm down a hysterical-sounding mother who had picked up her eight-year-old son from school to find that the child’s teeth and gums were black.

“Ask him if one of the other kids gave him a piece of gum or something like that to eat,” Claire said calmly and waited, listening to the muffled voices on the other end of the line.

“He says another boy in his class gave him gum. Is that was caused this?” the woman asked.

“Probably. There’s trick gum that will change your mouth black like that; I’m sure that’s what it was. Just an April Fool’s prank,” Claire explained, wondering how many other calls like that would come in that day. She reassured the mother that the black mouth was only temporary and that her son would be fine and hung up, only to have the phone ring again instantly. Groaning, she picked it up and answered pleasantly, “The office of Dr. Somers and Dr. Pantero, how can I help you?”

***

For Nick, the day had been a strange one. He’d woken up fairly early and, unable to fall back to sleep, turned on the TV to find Katie Couric and Matt Lauer discussing the history of April Fool’s Day on the “Today” show. And that’s when he remembered. It was the first of April. Exactly one year ago, he had been on an operating table, under anesthesia, undergoing amputation surgery.

Waking up to that memory had left him fairly subdued, and as he puttered around the house, slowly getting ready for the day, he could not help but feel sorry for himself. He tried not to let himself wallow in self-pity too often these days, but he figured he was allowed to every once in awhile. Some days, it was hard not to.

But by noon, he had managed to pull himself out of that morning’s slump, and as he sat gnawing on a piece of cold fried chicken and watching TV, he again remembered the date. It was April Fool’s Day. And he had not yet fooled anyone.

He stopped chewing, a slow smile spreading over his face. In past years, April Fool’s Day had been a favorite holiday of his. He and Brian had always had a great time of it in their younger days – the general rule in the Backstreet camp was that when the two of them were together on April 1, watch out. He could think of countless pranks they’d pulled on people over the years.

Unfortunately, the reality was that things had changed. They both had grown up – Brian was thirty now! Thirty! (Nick had given him hell on his birthday in February.) Not to mention, Brian was also a husband, a father, and a resident of Atlanta, Georgia, eight hours away from Nick’s home in Tampa, Florida. The other guys were spread across the country as well. Kevin and AJ were all the way out in Los Angeles, and even if Howie was only in Orlando, they were all still too far away to prank that year.

But he could still get Claire.

His smile turned wicked as he pictured her in her bright-colored scrubs, working at the dentist’s office. She got off at two that day. He vowed he would have something planned for her.

***

Sitting in his green Durango outside a small gray building with a big sign that read Dr. Barry Somers, D.D.S. and Dr. Timothy Pantero, D.D.S., Nick put his plan into action. Reaching into a plastic bag that sat on the seat next to him, he pulled out two small packages and opened them up. Turning down his sun visor so that he could see his reflection in the mirror on the back of it, he quickly set to work, blackening out his front teeth with the black putty he’d been lucky enough to find at a local costume shop and sticking a small capsule in his mouth. He stored the capsule in one cheek and grinned widely into the mirror, examining his work. He had to laugh; it felt like Halloween all of a sudden. Halloween in April.

It felt even more like Halloween when he bit down on the capsule in his mouth and felt his mouth fill with thick, syrupy liquid. He let some of the dark red substance trickle out of the corners of his mouth, but clamped his lips together, keeping most of it in. Covering his mouth with his right hand, he hurriedly opened the car door with his left and climbed carefully out of the SUV. Steadying himself on the blacktop parking lot, he locked the door and shut it, dropping his keys into his pocket. Then he set off quickly for the entrance of the building, opening his mouth a little behind his hand to let some of the “blood” run out onto his palm.

His act began the moment he burst into the dentist’s office and staggered through the waiting room, fake blood oozing between his fingers. He was relieved to see Claire sitting behind the window at the receptionist’s desk. Her eyes were fixed on the computer screen in front of her, but when he banged loudly into the room, she looked up. He saw the look of horror cross her face as he took his hand away from his mouth and choked, “Claire!”

Some of the blood from the capsule accidentally spattered onto the floor in front of him. Whoops. He quickly covered his mouth again, trying to hold it in.

“Nick!” Claire gasped, leaping up from her seat so fast she sent the wheelie office chair flying. She darted out from behind her cubicle and hurried across the waiting room to him. “What happened?” she cried, reaching up to pry his hand away from his face. “Let me see!”

He kept his hand clamped tightly over his mouth, twisting out of her reach. “My teeth!” he moaned, his voice muffled.

“Come on, come with me.” She put her arm around him and hurried him across the waiting room, through a door, and into a short hallway lined with rooms. “Tim!” she cried, as she led him into the first room on the left. “I mean, Dr. Pantero!” Glancing over his shoulder, Nick saw Tim’s head pop out of one of the rooms on the right.

“What’s wrong?” he called down the hall.

“I need you in here! Now, please?” Claire helped Nick into the dental chair that sat in the middle of the room. He tried his best not to smile; this was too funny. “Nick, what happened? Did you fall?” she asked, as she bustled around the room. “What did you hit?” She threw a drape over his chest and tucked it quickly under his chin. “Did you knock them all the way out?”

He nodded wordlessly, still clutching his mouth and trying to look pained, as she expertly tugged on a pair of hygienic gloves, the latex snapping at her wrists. Plopping down in a chair, she wheeled over to his side and lowered the chair so that he was lying flat, just within her reach. “Okay, put your hand down,” she said, gently pulling his hand away and using the drape to wipe the blood from his mouth. “Open up and let me see.”

It was all he could do not to break down laughing right then and there, as he slowly opened his mouth for her. He studied her face carefully as she leaned over to look in… and waited. She used a tiny sponge to dab at the blood on the inside of his mouth so that she could see… and he watched the realization dawn. Her eyes narrowed, her brow creasing in confusion.

“Nick!” she cried. “What is-“ She reached into his mouth, and he could feel her gloved fingers against the black gunk he’d smeared over his teeth. He lost it right then and there, breaking down into giggles. She yanked her fingers out of his mouth, and then it was her mouth that dropped open. “Nick, you ass!” she shrieked, pummeling his shoulder. “I can’t believe you!”

“April Fool!” He grinned up at her with a mouthful of black and red. “I gotcha!”

“I can’t believe you!” she said again. “God, I thought you-“

“Claire? What’s going on in here?”

Their heads both flew to the door to see the infamous Tim standing there, a look of confusion etched on his face. “Is there an emergency?” he asked, bewildered, looking from Claire down to Nick. “Oh,” he said when his eyes rested on Nick, “it’s you. What happened, you got a tooth knocked out?”

“He’s fine,” Claire said through gritted teeth. “He’s just a little kid, playing April Fool’s pranks.” She glared at Nick over her shoulder, but he could tell by the way the corners of her mouth were twitching that she was trying hard not to smile. He just kept grinning, totally pleased that his practical joke had come off so well.

“Oh,” Tim said humorlessly, straightening his white lab coat and looking superior. “Well then, I’ll get back to my real patients.”

“Yeah,” Claire said hollowly. “Sorry for calling you in here.”

“Not a problem.” He turned swiftly and strode back down the hall.

“Wow, he looked pissed,” Nick said with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes. “Well, yeah, Nick, his work was interrupted. By you, no less.”

“You’re not mad, are you?” he asked, as she yanked off her gloves and tossed them into the trash, her back to him. She stood there for a moment, not saying anything, and for a moment he was afraid he’d gone too far; maybe she was mad. But then her shoulders started to shake, and by the time she turned back, she was giggling.

“You are really something, Nick, you know that?” she said, shaking her head and grinning.

He grinned back. “I know. I’m your something.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Yeah,” she said, smirking down at him. “You’re my something all right. Look, I’m off in like ten minutes, so you sit here and get yourself cleaned up, and then we’ll go.”

“Can I have some water or something to rinse my mouth?”

She handed him a tiny plastic cup. “There ya go.”

He looked down at the empty cup. “Water?”

Heaving a sigh, she snatched the cup back from him and slammed it down on the water dispenser/sink unit on the other side of the chair. “Push. The. Button.”

He smiled sheepishly and hit the button on the side of the sink, watching as a thin stream of water slowly filled the cup. “They do that for me at the dentist I go to!” he called, as Claire stalked out of the room.

***

Chapter 3

Nick shifted on the bed and frowned at the TV, where a sweaty Keanu Reeves and dirt-stained Sandra Bullock lay in the middle of a derailed subway and made out.

“I have to warn you, I’ve heard relationships based on intense experiences never work.”

“Okay. We’ll have to base it on sex then.”

“Who the hell thinks about sex after almost getting blown up by a psycho and then almost dying in a train crash?” he scoffed.

Next to him, Claire laughed. “Hey, you would if Keanu Reeves was the one who saved you.”

Nick looked at her in disgust. “Well, I wouldn’t, no. Don’t even tell me you have a thing for Keanu.”

“What? He’s hot!”

“So that’s why you wanted to watch Speed tonight. Because… ‘he’s hot!’,” he mocked her in a high-pitched voice, making a face. “What do the chicks even see in him? He’s all like, ‘whoa, that is most excellent, dude… my name is Keanu, and I know kung fu…’.”

Claire snickered. “That was a really bad impression, Nick. And what can I say – I like ‘em tall, dark, and handsome.” She grinned cheekily, while Nick scowled.

“Hey, I’m tall!” he contended.

“That you are,” she said with a nod. “And you’re blonde…” She reached up and played with the ends of his hair, flipping his gelled bangs up. He grinned and took the opportunity to lean over and kiss her gently. Her hand fell to the back of his neck, and her fingertips ran lightly over his skin as she kissed him back. “Good thing you got all that crap out of your mouth earlier,” she said when they broke the kiss, “cause there’s no way I’d get anywhere near it if your teeth were still all black and bloody.”

He smirked. “Yeah, good thing I did then.” He wrapped an arm around her, and without words, she lay back and snuggled up against him, the way they always lay together. Remembering how sore they’d been the morning after their night on the couch, they had opted to watch a movie in Nick’s bedroom that evening, and he had to say, it was much more comfortable that way.

They didn’t stay that way for long though. Action-packed though it was, Speed had left him restless, his attention span maxed out after two hours of lying still and watching the movie. He absently rubbed her back through her shirt, his fingers running up and down her spine. And then somehow, minutes later, his hand was all the way up her shirt, and she was all the way in his arms, planting kisses along his jawline as he caressed her soft skin. Her lips traveled down his neck, hitting one of the spots he was most ticklish in and causing him to squirm. She giggled against him and kept going, only to be met with the neckline of his t-shirt. She sat up, pulling him with her. Her hands dropped down to find the hem of his shirt, and she started to pull it up, then stopped, looking up at him, silently asking his permission with her eyes. He gave a short nod and lowered his own hands to help her. Within seconds, the obtrusive material was off.

She ran her hands up and down his broad chest, stopping at the feet he had tattooed there. “I’ve always liked these little feet,” she said, tracing one of them with her finger. “They’re cute.”

“They’re not meant to be cute,” he told her exasperatedly. “They represent my heritage – Blackfoot Indian.”

“Oh yeah? Well, whaddya know - I got a pair of shamrocks tattooed on my boobs to represent my heritage.”

He stared at her. “Are you serious??”

“I dunno… guess you better find out,” she replied with a smirk.

Was that an invitation? He took it as one, reaching for the hem of her shirt. His heart hammered in his chest the whole time, and his palms sweat as he guided the t-shirt up and over her head. She had a bra on underneath, but even so, he could feel himself beginning to grow excited, a feeling he had not experienced in a long time.

“No shamrocks,” he said hoarsely, eyes trained on the creamy white swell of her breasts as they disappeared beneath the black material of her bra.

She shook her head. “No… but I dunno, Tattoo Boy, maybe you can convince me…” Her hand left the foot she’d been tracing and ran up his chest, tracing his collar bone and ending up on his left shoulder. She ran her hand lightly over the ink he had there and continued on down his arm, eventually crossing back over to his chest. Her fingers were very close to his scar now, and he drew in a shaky breath. Too close for comfort.

Hearing his slight gasp, she looked up into his eyes. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, “yeah, I’m fine.”

She nodded, moving away from the scar, not touching it. Meanwhile, he stroked her back, running his fingers lightly down and up again, touching the ends of her silky hair, bringing his hand around front to caress her cheek and then come down, down the side of her tender neck, to her freckled shoulder. He repeated what she’d done earlier, running his hand down her arm, tracing her collarbone with his index finger. Very slowly, he continued downward, as she made the same path down his chest, lightly trailing her finger over his stomach. Just when he had reached her bra, he felt her fingers slide beneath the waistband of his shorts.

Jerking in surprise, he looked down. He saw the tips of her fingers emerge from under the material… and just beyond that, he saw the empty left leg of his shorts… and something in him snapped.

“Stop,” he said abruptly, yanking his hand away from her skin as if he’d been burned. He saw the expression on her face, one of shock and confusion at the sudden change in mood, and he rolled away quickly, not wanting to look at her. He lay with his back to her, and his whole body began to tremble, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“Nick?” he heard her say softly.

Unexpected tears sprang to his eyes, and he sat up quickly, trying to blink them away. Swinging his leg over the side of the bed, he stood up and reached for his crutches. He knew he should say something to her, but his throat felt tight. He was quickly losing it and didn’t want to, not in front of her, so he took off, hobbling as fast as he could to the bathroom. He went inside, closed the door behind him, and locked it. And then he collapsed to the ground, pressing his back against the wall, stretching his leg out in front of him, and burying his face in his hands, his shoulders heaving with each ragged breath he took.

It took a few minutes for him to calm down and regain his composure.

And then he just felt stupid. Foolish. Ridiculous, even.

What was wrong with him?

He was mortified. What the hell had happened? He had freaked out, that’s what. Totally freaked.

This had never happened to him before, and it scared him. He’d made out with so many girls in his lifetime, some he hardly even knew. And of course he’d gone much further than that with many of them and hardly batted an eye. And yet, with Claire, whom he usually felt more comfortable around than any other woman he’d ever been with, he had freaked out at the slightest insinuation of sex.

His eyes traveled down his body, hating every inch of it. How could she love him and touch him when he was this way? How could she even stand to look at him? He was ugly, from the long scar that stretched around his left side, to the stump of a leg that ended where his knee should have began.

He sighed. How was he ever going to go back out there and face her? What would he say? That Nick Carter, once infamous for making girls of all ages scream with his sexy smirk and the occasional pelvic thrust, had balked and run away to cry in the bathroom when his own girlfriend made a move on him?

He was pathetic. And now Claire would know just how pathetic he was.

***

Claire knew nothing. Still sitting on Nick’s bed, her knees tucked to her chest, her bottom lip between her teeth, she could only wonder. Was he all right? Should she go to him or just leave him be? What had gone wrong anyway?

That she did know, or at least she had a good idea. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that he was still very self-conscious about himself. She knew that before, and she should have seen it coming, the way he flinched when she got close to the scar from his lung surgery. She felt horrible, knowing this was her fault. She’d gone too far, too fast, and he had freaked out. She knew she should have been more careful. After all, she could understand what he had to be feeling right about then.

It had been the same way for her the previous summer, when she had first started dating Tim. The newly-hired dentist at Dr. Somers’ practice, Tim had apparently taken an interest in her instantly. He had spent his first few weeks there pursuing her, flirting with her constantly and feeding her all kinds of cheesy pick-up lines that, nonetheless, never failed to make her smile. At first, she’d blown him off, but after hearing Nick tell her that her kiss meant nothing to him, she saw no reason to keep rejecting Tim. She’d agreed to go out with him one Friday night, and from there, it had escalated into a full on relationship.

She still felt a little guilty about it though, knowing part of the reason she’d gone out with him so willingly was Nick. After what he had said to her, she was desperate to prove that she was fine without him, that she had a life of her own that did not include him. And if she was being perfectly honest with herself, a part of her had hoped to make him jealous by dating another man. It was pathetic, and she was not proud of stringing Tim along for as long as she did, but that was how it was. Tim was a nice guy and handsome, too, but she’d never had more than a friendly crush on him, which had quickly faded after she’d been with him a few weeks. Still, she had stayed with him, and he had moved their relationship along at a fast pace. Almost too fast for her.

It had been a long time since she’d been in a relationship, and after all the changes she had been through the previous year, she, too, had been self-conscious. In the course of a year, she’d lost all of her hair, while her weight had fluctuated like crazy, the result of the various medications she’d been put on. The bone marrow transplant had thrown her entire system out of whack, and it had been a long time before she’d felt “normal” again. By the time Tim came along, she was both looking and feeling better, but she was still scarred. Not on the outside, like Nick, but deep down on the inside. She’d already had the love of her life reject her because of her cancer once, and she could not bear the thought of another relationship failing because of a man who could not handle her problems.

But Tim was not like Jamie. She had forced herself to fill him in on the basics at the beginning, and he had been very accepting. Accepting… but not so understanding. Not that he didn’t try… but he could never fully empathize with the fact that after all she had been through, she wanted to take things slow.

She had been right in assuming that Nick would be the same way. In four months, they had gone no further than making out. She had a feeling that two years ago, a relationship with Nick Carter would have moved much faster than that. But things were different now. They had never spoken about it, but she had always understood and never pushed the issue. It was actually nice to be in a relationship where there were no expectations, where she was not the one being pressured to go places she didn’t want to go.

But with Nick, she was ready to go there, to take the next step. Only he wasn’t.

Then I’ll just wait for him, she thought, reaching for her t-shirt and slowly pulling it back on. She would wait for as long as Nick needed. And when he was ready, she would be there.

***

Nick splashed cold water on his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror, wishing the redness in his eyes would go away. He didn't want her to know how upset he'd gotten. That would make the situation even worse when he got up the nerve to leave the bathroom.

If she was even still there.

He sighed heavily, knowing that if she was, he'd have to face her sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. Patting his face dry with a towel, he squared his shoulders, adjusted his crutches under his arms, and slowly hobbled across the tiled floor to the door. He hesitated a moment, and then opened it, emerging cautiously, like a turtle poking its head out of its shell.

The first thing he noticed was that she was still there.

The second thing he noticed was that her shirt was back on.

She lay on his bed, her back propped up against the pillows, her legs stretched out in front of her, ankles crossed. She was watching TV, the remote in her hand. When he had crossed the threshold of the bathroom, she looked over at him, then glanced back at the TV. She hesitated a moment, then clicked a button on the remote. The television shut off instantly, filling the room with an awkward silence.

He knew he should say something, but he didn't know what to say or do, so he just stood there. It was she who made the first move, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing up. He waited, stock still, while she walked over to him.

She stopped in front of him and looked up at him unsurely for a moment. He shifted his weight uncomfortably and avoided her eyes, trying to think of what to say to her.

But words were not needed. Without warning, she reached forward and pulled him into a gentle hug. He stiffened at first, caught off guard. He could feel her start to pull away, and he reacted quickly, letting his crutches fall and wrapping his arms around her, bringing her back to him. Leaning on her for support, he embraced her tightly, breathing in the scent of her hair, closing his eyes in relief at the comforting sensation of her warm body against his.

One of her hands rubbed up and down his back, while the other simply held him. "I'm sorry," he heard her whisper.

"It's not you," he replied, sighing. "It's me."

Pulling back so that she could look up into his eyes, she said simply, "It's all right."

"I'm sorry," he repeated her words, feeling ashamed.

She shook her head. "You don't have to be sorry, Nick. I understand. You know that, right?"

He nodded slightly, touched by her words, but at the same time, thinking, No, I don't. Claire understood a lot of things, but not this. This she could never understand. She was a nice-looking girl with an anatomically correct, complete body. She was used to dating men who were physically perfect, a far cry from Nick. Sometimes he couldn't believe she was still with him. She deserved more, a man who could give her anything she desired, who could love her the way she was meant to be loved. Not some scarred and scathed freak.

She patted his back and then backed away, bending down to pick up his crutches. She rose slowly and handed them back to him. “I should get going,” she said softly. “I have stuff to do tomorrow, and you probably want to be alone.”

Again he nodded, while his thoughts contradicted his actions. No, I don’t want to be alone. I want to be with you. Only he’d blown his chance to be with her by freaking out on her. Now she would never want to touch him again. He had shot himself in the foot. And that wasn’t good – he only had one.

“Okay,” Claire said. “Call me tomorrow if you want to hang out. I need to run some errands, but you’re welcome to go with if you want.”

“All right,” he said hoarsely.

She rose onto her tip-toes and placed a feather light kiss on his cheek. “I love you,” she whispered in his ear.

He managed a smile. “I love you too.”

She returned the smile. “I can let myself out,” she said, starting slowly for the door. “Goodnight, Nick.”

“’Night,” he echoed after her and watched her walk away. He slowly made his way back to his bed, discarding his crutches and climbing onto it. He curled up in the center and just lay there, listening the sounds that interrupted the silence. He heard her footsteps slowly fade and the click of the front door as she closed it behind her. Minutes later, the engine of her old Toyota rumbled to life and gradually died away as she pulled out of his long driveway and drove off into the night.

***

Chapter 4

Claire was in the middle of a dream when the phone rang. It started ringing in her dream, and when she awoke and found herself in her own bedroom, it was still ringing. She groaned loudly, asked herself for the millionth time why she had thought it a good idea to put a phone beside her bed, and was just about to reach for it, if only to rip its cord out of the wall and shut the blasted thing up, when the ringing suddenly stopped.

She could hear the muffled recording of her own voice as the answering machine in the living room took the call. Satisfied, she let her body relax again and buried her head in her pillow, closing her eyes and willing her mind to take her back to the dream she’d been having. But by then, the dream was gone, and she could remember nothing about it, only that it had been a good one.

“Damn,” she muttered groggily. She hated when that happened. Damn the phone and damn whoever had made it ring.

It was obviously morning by now, for even the mini-blinds on her single window could not keep the Florida sunshine from streaming in between the slats. Lifting her head and squinting at the clock that sat beside the phone, she saw that it was already 9:30. She sighed and reluctantly rolled out of bed, knowing that if she did not get up now, she would only fall back to sleep and waste a few more hours of her Saturday.

Remembering the phone call, she left her bedroom and padded out into the living room to see if the caller had left a message. The red light on the machine was flashing, and she pressed the play button and sank tiredly down to the couch to listen.

The machine beeped, and then there was a slight pause before a voice finally spoke. “Uh, hey Ren-“ Nick, Claire thought, smiling at his nickname for her. Technically, it was AJ who had given them that, but no one but Nick had actually called her that since then. –“it’s me. I know you said you were gonna run errands and stuff today, but ummm… looks like I already missed you, so… I’ll just talk to you later, I guess. Bye.” There was the sound of a loud click as he hung up, and then the recording stopped.

Claire giggled to herself, rolling her eyes. “You’re not too late, Carter, you’re too early,” she muttered, picking up the phone and hitting number 4 on her speed dial.

He picked up on the second ring. “Hey, guess I didn’t miss you after all.”

“Nope, you didn’t. I’m, uh… just getting ready,” she said, looking down at her barefoot, pajama-clad self.

“You sound like you just woke up,” he replied, sounding amused.

Damn him. “Well, yeah… a while ago…” A minute ago.

“Uh-huh. So do you still want me to go with you?”

“Excuse me?” she choked. “Who said anything about me wanting you to come with me? If I remember correctly, I said you could come if you wanted to.”

He paused. “Same thing.”

“Not really, but okay. So you’re coming then?”

“I guess.”

She smiled. He wants to. “Okay. Pick you up in half an hour?”

“Sounds good.”

“Alrighty. See ya.”

“Bye.”

They hung up, and Claire groaned. Half an hour? Why had she said half an hour? She was nowhere near being ready for the day, and by the time she drove all the way over to his house, it would be at least forty-five minutes.

“Oh well,” she said with a shrug and a carefree smile. “He’ll just have to wait.”

***

“Half an hour, Claire. You said you’d be here in thirty minutes, and it’s been fifty,” Nick said, as he climbed into passenger side of her car. Claire rolled her eyes at him, and he grinned. "But I'm glad you put so much time and effort into looking hot for me," he went on.

He was kidding. Her hair was wet, her face bare, and she was dressed very casually in a pair of faded jeans and an old University of Tampa t-shirt.

"Why, thank you, Nick; I'm glad you noticed," Claire replied sarcastically, giving him a look and a smack in the shoulder before she jerked the car into gear and pulled away from his house.

"You hit the left one," Nick murmured, rubbing his shoulder. "You always hit me on the left side."

She gave him another look. "Oh, puh-lease. I told you, you can't pull that 'don't hit my left shoulder, it's tender!' crap anymore."

He stuck his bottom lip out and tried to look pathetic, while struggling to keep a straight face. Finally, he resorted to sticking his tongue out at her instead.

"Ah, very mature," she said with an exasperated smile. He smiled back in relief, just glad that things seemed to be normal between them. After his breakdown the night before, he had been nervous about seeing her, afraid there would be tension. But he had called her anyway, knowing he had to see her and make sure things were okay.

Luckily, things seemed to be okay. She was acting like nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, and he was glad. He liked that tactic. Just pretend like it never happened.

They lapsed into silence as she turned out of his posh neighborhood, and he struggled for something to say to keep the conversation going.

"So... UT, huh?" he commented, referring to her shirt. "That where you went to college?"

It was funny... he had known her for two years, been friends with her for almost that long, and been dating her for the past three months... but there was still a lot he didn't know about her.

"Yeah," she replied, "for two years anyway."

"Why only two years? You dropped out?" he asked, arching an eyebrow in confusion.

Braking to a stop at a red light, she turned to look at him. "No..." she said slowly, "I didn't drop out. I got cancer."

He could feel his face heating him, and he wanted to lean forward and beat his head against the dash a few times. Why was he such an idiot? "I'm sorry," he apologized quickly. "I... I didn't-"

"It's all right," she cut him off. "We've never really talked about this before; I don't expect you to have my life story memorized." She gave him a crooked smile and moved her foot to the gas pedal as the light turned green. "So yeah, I was diagnosed near the end of my sophomore year. I managed to finish out that semester, but when it came time to go back in the fall, I just wasn't ready, so I took some time off. Once I was in remission and back on my feet, I transferred to Hillsborough, the community college, and took some classes there to get my associate's degree. That's all you need for dental hygiene. I was originally pre-dentistry when I was at UT, but after all that, it just didn't seem worth it. All those years of school left... and all that money it would cost..." She trailed off.

He frowned. "You never told me all that," he said. "So you wanted to be an actual dentist, not a hygienist?"

She shrugged. "I guess. I don't know what I wanted. The dentist thing was just kind of... there. I mean, since my dad is one and all. But don't get me wrong, I like what I do. And I know I don't make as much money as I would if I were a dentist, but hey, I make enough to get by, and that's what matters, right?"

"Right," agreed Nick, even though he had never had to worry about 'making enough to get by.' "Well, I'm glad you're not a dentist. Then you would be 'Dr. Ryan,' right?"

"Yeah," she said with a smirk. "It sounds weird, doesn't it? I don't even like being called Ms. Ryan, let alone Dr."

He chuckled. "Yeah, well, the word 'doctor' just freaks me out, so I'm glad you aren't called that."

"Understandable," she nodded. "That word is rarely associated with something good, at least for us, it seems like. Hey, speaking of which, I have a check-up two weeks from today. Are you going to come with me?"

He grimaced, but nodded. "Sure, if you want me to."

"Okay," she said, smiling at him briefly before turning her eyes back to the road. "So, I want to stop at Michaels first and pick up some new scrapbooking stuff, and then I need to run to Target. Sound good?"

Nick was caught off-guard by the sudden subject change. "Um, sure," he replied with a neutral shrug, as she guided the car into the city.

***

"Please don't tell me you've never been to a Target before."

"Huh?" Nick blinked, caught off-guard. "What'd you say?"

Claire shot him a look of exasperation. "You're acting like you've never been to a place like this before. Big celebrity or not, you have to have been to Target or at least Wal-mart before. Where else would you get your deodorant and laundry detergent and stuff like that?"

Now it was his turn to give her a look. "'Course I go to Target. Just not this part of Target." They were standing in one of the makeup aisles.

“Oh,” Claire said with a giggle, her eyes sweeping over the shelves and shelves of makeup products, some of which Nick wouldn’t have the slightest clue what to do with. “What, Leah never took you shopping with her?”

He shrugged, his stomach clenching at the mere mention of his ex-girlfriend, almost ex-fiancée.

“Well, come on, this is all I needed here,” Claire said, dropping a small bottle of foundation into her cart and moving on. He grimaced when they came to the aisle containing the “feminine supplies” and almost sighed in relief when they passed on by and headed to the clothing section instead. “I want to buy new jeans,” Claire announced, weaving her way between racks of clothes. “The ones I’m wearing now are about to fall apart; I think they’re getting a hole back here.” She ran her hand over the back of her thigh, where the denim had clearly worn away, almost to the point of fraying.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” he smirked, lightly slapping her just above the spot where her hand had been.

“Not in public,” she muttered through gritted teeth, shoving him away. “Here, what do you think about these?” She held up a pair of jeans for his opinion.

He shrugged. “Um… they’re okay?” How was he supposed to decide? They looked just like any other pair of jeans he saw girls wear.

“Very helpful, Nick,” she said with a sarcastic smile. “I’m gonna go try them on. You wait by the cart.”

She disappeared into one of the dressing rooms, and Nick was left standing alone, surrounded by women’s clothing and feeling quite awkward. This feeling only escalated when he heard someone say his name. Turning around, he found a teenage girl standing a few feet behind him, looking hesitant. She broke into a smile and said, “It is you.”

She was obviously a fan, and a typical one at that – about fourteen or fifteen years old, braces on her teeth, hair in a ponytail, the works. He offered her a cautious smile in return, inwardly praying she would not proceed to stalk him through the rest of the store. Hoping he could appease her now, he said, “Yep, it’s me. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Alicia.”

“Nice to meet you, Alicia.” He held out his hand, and she took it eagerly, shaking.

“I’m a huge fan of you,” she said, grinning up at him in rapture. Lowing her voice, she added, “So is my mom.” She motioned over her shoulder, and he could see an older woman standing out of the way with her cart. He gave her a little wave and a wink, but Alicia quickly snatched his attention away. “Who’s that girl you’re with?” she asked curiously, looking past him toward the dressing rooms. “Is that your new girlfriend?”

Nick stifled a groan, wondering what he should say to that. He never knew how to answer those kinds of questions, especially when they involved a girl that was not already in the public eye. He wasn’t ready to surrender Claire to the evil clutches of the paparazzi yet, so he tried to dance around the question. “She’s a friend of mine,” he answered, deciding that was a safe response. And it wasn’t a lie either – she was his friend… and more.

Alicia nodded, accepting this answer. “Do you come places like this a lot? It’s so weird, seeing Nick Carter in a Target.”

He chuckled. “Well, yeah. I’m just a normal guy, you know. Where else would I get my deodorant and laundry detergent and stuff?”

She smiled. “Um… d’you think maybe I could get your autograph? If you’re not too busy?”

He laughed. “Sure, I think I can manage that. Do you have anything to write on?”

“Yeah, hang on.” She rummaged quickly through her small purse and came up with a crinkled sales receipt and a bright purple pen with a big fuzzy thing on the end. “Here,” she said, handing them both to him, her cheeks bright red.

“This is a cool pen,” he teased, touching the fuzzy part. “I might have to get one of these to sign with from now on.” Alicia giggled, and he had her turn around so that he could use her back for a writing surface. She spelled out her name for him, and he scrawled a quick message on the back of the receipt, signing his name at the bottom. It felt kind of nice to be signing an autograph; it had been a long time since he’d done so. He tended not to get bothered a lot when he was in Tampa because many of the people in the area were used to seeing him around from time to time, but over the past year, he had spent so much time cooped up in his house and avoiding public that he really hadn’t had many fan encounters.

By the time he handed Alicia back her pen and newly-autographed receipt, Claire was emerging from the dressing room. Seeing her coming his way, Nick quickly tried to make his getaway from Alicia. “Well, we’ve got a lot to do today, and I’m sure you and your mom need to get back to your own shopping,” he said casually to the girl. “It was nice meeting you.”

“You too,” she smiled, clutching the precious receipt tightly and never taking her eyes off of him.

He flashed her a smile in return and then turned to Claire, who had come up alongside the cart, looking curious. “You ready to move on?” he asked, his voice low.

“Yeah,” she said, putting her jeans in the cart. They walked on, and only when they were out of earshot of Alicia and her mother did Claire ask, “Fan?”

“Yep,” said Nick. “I signed her an autograph and talked to her for a few minutes… hopefully she won’t follow us.” He glanced quickly over his shoulder; the coast was clear. He sighed in relief, but pulled his baseball cap lower on his head anyway, hoping he wouldn’t be approached by anyone else. One fan per shopping trip was fine, but he didn’t want a whole herd of them to come up, and he certainly didn’t want to subject Claire to all that.

They breezed on by the men’s clothes, where Claire picked out a pair of bright red boxer shorts with a giant white bulls-eye on the butt and convinced Nick he had to have them. Then they walked through the toy department, where they proceeded to set off every talking, singing, and moving toy there was. They could hear the racket even above their own uproarious laughter as they hurried away, Claire convinced she’d come back to find her face plastered on a large Wanted posted in the front of the store, Nick convinced his would be plastered across the front of the National Enquirer, along with security camera photos of himself pressing the hand of Macarena Elmo and a bold headline, “Backstreet Boy Gone Wild… in Target.”

They hid out in the entertainment section, where Nick quickly found the video games they had put out for demonstration and played them for a good half hour, until Claire finally dragged him away, leaving the line of eleven-year-old boys that had formed behind him to race to the machine, fighting over who had gotten there first.

“Hey, you dragged me through that craft store for at least five hours and then stopped to look at all those little papers and stickers and crap for your scrapbook for like two more, so don’t even start,” Nick huffed exaggeratedly as Claire led him up to the check-out counters in the front of the store.

“You are a master in the art of hyperbole, Nickolas, I will give you that much,” Claire chuckled as she unloaded the cart.

“Hey! I’m not any more hyper than you are! Whose idea was it to turn on all toys again?” Nick retorted defensively.

“I didn’t say hyper, Nick; I said-“ She just stopped there and rolled her eyes. “Never mind.” She reached up and patted his cheek. “You’re too cute.”

He cocked his head as she put the last of her things onto the counter, wondering what that was supposed to mean.

As the cashier started to ring up their purchases, Claire opened her purse and pulled out her checkbook. As she opened it up and started to make out a check to Target, Nick clamped a hand over hers. “What are you doing?” she asked, pushing his hand away.

“I got this,” he said, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket and taking out one of his credit cards.

“What? No, you’re not paying. This is my stuff.”

“Those are mine,” he said, pointing to the red boxers that the checker was now scanning.

“So? We’ll call it a present.

“No. Claire, this is dumb. Let me get this stuff for you.”

“For Christ’s sake, Nick, it’s a pair of jeans and makeup!” Claire hissed angrily, continuing to write out her check.

“Yeah, it’s just jeans and makeup – what’s the big deal?” He was lost; usually girls liked when he paid for them and bought them things. But she was totally in a huff about it, not even answering. She hastily signed the check and tore it out, and he surrendered, letting her pay for her stuff and his shorts as well.

Meanwhile, the checker just kept giving them odd looks the whole time, and Nick was more than relieved when they were finally out of the store.

“Do you think that lady knew who I was?” he asked, struggling to keep up with Claire as she stalked through the parking lot, her bag swinging at her side. “You said my name and all… I hope she didn’t connect it.”

“Why, because you were being an ass?”

His mouth dropped open. “Huh?? How was I being an ass?”

“You’re always offering to pay for my stuff, and I’m sick of it, Nick!” Claire cried, wrenching her car door open and climbing inside. “I may not be rich like you, but I’m perfectly capable of supporting myself and buying what I need,” she added, as he slid into the passenger side.

“I know you are! I just… I thought… well, I was trying to be nice, that’s all. But from now on, forget about it,” Nick muttered, jamming his seatbelt into its buckle as she started the car.

“I’m sorry,” said Claire, her voice softening. “I know you were trying to be nice, and I appreciate it, but… it’s just not necessary, okay? It makes me feel inferior.”

He sighed. “Well, I never meant to make you feel like that. Of course you’re not inferior.”

She smiled over at him. “I know. Let’s just drop it, okay? You know how I feel now – conversation over.”

He nodded silently, and she put the car into reverse and backed out of her spot.

They had only been driving for a little while when Nick felt the car start to jerk to the left. He looked over to see Claire struggling to keep it the right lane. “Shit,” she said, “I think I have a flat.” Clutching the wheel so tightly her knuckles were white, she eased the car over to the shoulder of the road and slowed to a stop, throwing it into park. She turned on her hazard lights and climbed out. Nick opened his door and got out as well, coming around to her side of the car to take a look. Sure enough, the front left tire was half-deflated.

“I must have run over something,” Claire sighed as she stared down at the tire, her hands on her hips.

“It’s all right. I’ve got my cell,” said Nick, taking his tiny silver phone out of one of the pockets of his baggy jeans.

“Oh, so do I, but it’s okay. It’ll take less time to just change it,” she replied casually, walking back to the trunk.

“But…” Nick protested, watching her open up the trunk. Even if he did know how to change a tire – which he didn’t – he knew there was no way he would physically be able to do it. Squatting and kneeling were two things he could not do easily on his prosthesis.

But Claire seemed to have things under control. Before long, she had the spare tire out of its storage space beneath the trunk and was laying out a car jack and a lug wrench. Nick watched in silent awe as she proceeded to take off the hubcap and loosen the lug nuts, then jack the car up off the ground. “Hold these,” she said, taking off the lug nuts and handing them to Nick. He held them in his cupped hand and stared as she pulled the flat tire off and replaced it with the spare, struggling to push it in all the way. “Lug nuts,” she said, holding out her hand. Nick carefully dumped the lug nuts he’d been holding into her open palm, and she screwed them back on, lowered the car to the ground, and tightened everything.

“Good as new,” she said, wiping her hands on her pants as she stepped back to inspect her work.

Nick shook his head in amazement. “Where did you learn how to do that?” he asked.

Claire laughed. “My dad,” she said. “He taught me when I was like fifteen and had my learner’s permit. Wouldn’t let me drive on my own till I could change a tire.”

“Good idea,” Nick nodded, deciding not to tell her that no one had bothered to show him how to change a tire when he started driving. He felt incompetent around her already. Clearly, he was the one who was inferior. Not her.

“Shall we go?” Claire asked breezily, closing the trunk after she’d put everything back into it.

“Yeah,” said Nick, walking back around to his side of the car. “Let’s go.”

***

Chapter 5

Nick sucked in a nervous breath as he walked through a door marked "Oncology Outpatient Clinic" and set foot inside the small waiting room, a place he knew all too well. His senses were invaded by all the familiarities - the smell of antiseptic, the sounds of feet shuffling and magazine pages turning and the occasional ruffle of paper coming from the receptionist's desk, and the sight of anxious and sick-looking people slumped in chairs. Some of them were very gaunt, while others looked bloated. Many were bald.

But then there were some that looked perfectly normal, and as he sat down beside Claire and glanced over at her, Nick was glad she was among the latter group. Her hair had grown long enough to be pulled back into a short ponytail, there was color in her naturally fair cheeks, and her body had settled into a healthy medium between the two extremes at which he'd seen it. Someone meeting her for the first time would never know how deathly ill she had been less than two years ago.

He shuddered inwardly, picturing her how she had looked after her bone marrow transplant, when she had been so sick he was afraid he was going to lose her. He didn't like to think of those times, and he hoped he would never have to see her that way again. He wasn't sure he could handle another episode like that.

Which was why he was so nervous. He had accompanied Claire to the hospital that day for one of her bi-yearly check-ups, and although he was sure everything was fine with her, he couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. It was probably just the whole atmosphere of the place... to him, the oncology floor represented nothing but pain, fear, and bad news. It was a place where you couldn't afford to be "sure" about anything because nothing was certain. Even Claire, who had been in remission from her leukemia for a year and a half now, was not totally out of the woods yet. There was always the threat of a recurrence of the cancer or an episode of rejection of the bone marrow she had received from her older brother, Kyle. The chances of either of those things happening diminished as time went by, but the risk was still there. Otherwise she would have had no reason to be sitting in that waiting room right then.

It was she who looked over at him now, concern registering in her eyes. "Hey, are you all right?" she asked quietly, patting his hand. "Jeez, you look more nervous than me. Your hand is like ice!" She picked it up and rubbed it between hers, smiling at him. "Don't be nervous; it's just a check-up. You know I'm fine."

It was amazing how well she could read him sometimes. He returned the smile sheepishly and nodded. "I know," he said. "I think it's just being in this place... it freaks me out."

He had sat here himself just over a month ago for a check-up of his own, three months after his lung surgery. He'd been just as freaked out then, worrying about a re-growth of the tumor that had been taken out of his lung, or a new tumor popping up somewhere else in his body. But all his tests had been clean, and Dr. Kingsbury had ushered him out of the clinic with a smile, telling him to take care until she saw him in another three months.

He just hoped it would be the same for Claire today.

"Yeah, it kinda freaks me out too," she was saying now, "but not as much as it used to. I don't worry as much about it anymore. You shouldn't either. Especially not about me. I'm fine now." She flashed him another quick smile and then reached for the selection of magazines piled on one of the end tables that separated sections of chairs. Nick watched as she sorted through the magazines, discarding the pregnancy and parenting ones that had been on top of the stack and settling on a copy of People. She handed Nick a crinkled Highlights and smirked as he accepted it.

"What?" he asked defensively, as he opened up the children's magazine and scanned the table of contents, looking for the hidden pictures and Goofus and Gallant.

She only smiled and turned back to her own magazine. They waited awhile longer, until finally she was called back by a nurse that Nick didn’t recognize. After two years of having doctor’s appointments anywhere from every three weeks to every three months, and four long hospital stays, Nick had gotten to know the fifth floor staff fairly well. He glanced at the nametag pinned to the young, Hispanic nurse’s scrub top – Angela. He didn’t know an Angela and figured she had to be new. She looked younger than Claire, and he couldn’t imagine she’d been out of college long.

Angela smiled at them both and led them back to one of the examining rooms. Nick waited outside while Claire changed and then went in to sit with her. It felt strange to be sitting there, not as a patient, but as… well, whatever he was. And it was even weirder when the doctor came in, not Dr. Kingsbury, but Claire’s oncologist, Dr. Rodrigo. Nick sat silently and listened to the two of them talk. He stayed out of the way during the examination, and he turned his head when the nurse came back to draw blood, not wanting to watch the needle slide into Claire’s arm.

“Dr. Rodrigo said she must get a bone marrow sample,” the nurse, Angela, told Claire. “I’ll tell her you’re ready for the aspiration.”

Claire nodded and glanced over at Nick as Angela left the room. “Are you having fun?” she teased.

“Tons,” Nick replied flatly. “Does your arm hurt?”

She looked down at the crook of her arm and pressed on the cotton ball that had been taped there. “Nah,” she said, “I’m tough. My hip’s gonna hurt a lot more in a few minutes.”

He grimaced. “I hear ya. Wish you didn’t have to go through that.”

“Yeah, me too, but… no such luck.” She shrugged. “It’s okay; I’ve had it done so many times, I’m used to it by now.”

He didn’t think he would ever get used to the bone marrow tests, the large needle they stuck in your pelvic bone, the horrible pain and pressure you felt as the marrow was sucked out of you. He’d had it done many times himself, and it never got an easier or any less painful.

The doctor and nurse returned a few minutes later to do the procedure. Angela lowered the head of the examining table, and Claire knowingly flipped over and stretched out flat on her stomach. She turned her head to the side on which Nick was sitting and motioned him over. He scooted his chair closer to the table, positioning it near the head, out of the way of Angela and Dr. Rodrigo, who were setting up for the test. Wordlessly, he reached out his hand, and Claire, smiling, took hold of it. She had sat with him through two of these and held his hand, and he realized now, he had never done it for her before. That was going to change though. They were in this together.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, as Dr. Rodrigo parted the back of her hospital gown and rubbed her skin with an antiseptic that stained her skin orangey brown.

“She’s going to give you the lidocaine now, and then the worst will be over,” Angela said, as Dr. Rodrigo prepared a syringe.

Claire let out a derisive snort and glanced up at the young nurse. “Have you ever had one of these yourself?” she asked.

“No… I haven’t,” replied Angela.

“This isn’t the worst. Trust me. The worst is when the needle hits the bone.”

Nick winced, and the nurse bit her lip awkwardly. “I’m sorry. Try closing your eyes and imagining you are somewhere else. Sometimes that helps. My last patient pictured herself on the beach in Hawaii.”

Claire chuckled. “I went to Hawaii last year. Spent most of the week with my head in the toilet.”

Nick saw Angela look uncertainly across the table at the doctor. He gave Claire’s hand a firm squeeze and murmured under his breath, “She’s just trying to help.”

“I’m sorry,” Claire said, directing the apology to the nurse. “I don’t mean to be a bitch; it’s just that whole ‘imagining you’re somewhere else’ stuff doesn’t work on me. Just stick the thing in me.”

Nick forced himself to look at Claire’s face and not the needle going into her back as Dr. Rodrigo pushed the lidocaine to numb her skin. But watching the pain in her eyes was harder than watching the injection. He squeezed her hand as the doctor pulled out the needle. “Half over,” he said, giving her a grim smile.

She nodded wordlessly and squeezed his hand back.

A few minutes passed, and then it was time for the bigger needle that actually withdrew the bone marrow. Had Nick been smart, he would have kept his eyes on Claire’s face the entire time and not looked as Dr. Rodrigo prepared the second needle. But his curiosity got the better of him, and he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander over to the doctor. In two years, he had had around eight of these, but he had never actually seen one done. When he was lying on his stomach with his head down the whole time, it was impossible to see what the doctors were actually doing. But now he was on the other end of things… and he could see everything.

And when he saw the actual needle for the first time, he wanted to throw up. That was what had been put into his hip all those times?! That was what they were going to plunge into Claire’s bone now?! It was huge! It didn’t even look like a needle, more like a big, long nail that should be hammered into a thick block of wood, not drilled through a living person’s flesh and bone!

He couldn’t watch as Dr. Rodrigo did the procedure; he was afraid he would pass out if he did. Instead, he squeezed Claire’s hand and never tore his gaze from her face. Her eyes were closed tightly, her mouth contorted into a grimace of pain, and she squeezed his hand back so hard he thought she was going to break all the bones inside it.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dr. Rodrigo announced, “All done, Claire,” and Nick let out a shuddering breath. Claire still had her eyes squeezed shut. With his free hand, Nick lightly ran his hand over her back, rubbing it in small circles until she relaxed a little and opened her eyes. It hurt him to see that they were brimming with tears, which she quickly blinked away.

“Are you doing all right?” the nurse, Angela, asked, leaning over Claire.

Claire nodded weakly and directed the question to Nick. “Are you all right? You look kinda pale.”

He smiled crookedly, embarrassed, and nodded. “I’m fine. And I bet I’m not as white as you are.”

“No one will ever be as white as I am.”

He chuckled and patted her back again, as the doctor and nurse bustled around the small exam room, cleaning up.

Half an hour later, Claire and Nick were in the elevator on the way to the ground floor, having left with Dr. Rodrigo’s promise to call if anything was off with the results of Claire’s tests. Nick prayed there would be no reason to call.

The elevator lurched to a stop on the first floor, and the door slid open with a ding. Claire walked out first, her hand on her back, lightly touching the spot where they had done the bone marrow test. Nick knew from experience how sore it was and was careful not to bump into her when he came up alongside her and slid his hand into hers. They walked out of the hospital together, setting their pace slow.

When they finally reached Nick’s silver Jaguar (Claire had been especially excited when he’d picked her up that morning – the Jag was her favorite of all his vehicles), Claire announced, “I think we should go get ice cream. Your treat.”

“My treat?” Nick repeated, trying to sound flabbergasted. “First you drag me to the hospital for your doctor’s appointment when you know there’s a million other things I could be doing, and now you’re making me buy you ice cream?”

Claire snickered. “If you weren’t here with me now, you’d just be sitting on your ass at home playing Nintendo, and you know it, so don’t even start with that. And of course I’m making you buy me ice cream – I’m the one who just had a fifteen gauge needle shoved into my back, not you.”

He blanched and made a face. “Fine, you win,” he said, turning on the ignition. “Ice cream it is. Where to, milady?”

She snickered again and replied, “Anywhere with a drive-thru. I’m not getting out of the car.”

He nodded and headed to the nearest Dairy Queen. When they had gotten their ice cream, Nick parked in a shady corner of the parking lot and rolled down the windows. “You know,” he said, taking a bite of his Blizzard, “we should go to Hawaii.” He looked casually over at Claire to find her staring at him, eyebrows raised.

“Are you serious?” she asked. “Or are you just saying-“

“I’m serious,” he answered quickly. The idea had come to him earlier in the clinic, when Claire mentioned her less-than-satisfactory trip to Hawaii with Tim the year before. He recalled the promise he’d made to her after she got back from that trip…

“I’ll take you back to Hawaii sometime and make it up to you,” he offered, flashing her his famous half-smile.

She returned the smile. “Sometime, sure,” she said lightly, blowing him off. “No time soon though.”

Nick wasn’t sure what qualified as ‘soon,’ but surely six months from then didn’t. “I said I would take you to Hawaii and make up for the crappy time you had there with Tim, didn’t I?” he reminded her. “So… let me make it up to you.”

She was still staring at him, her barely-touched sundae slowly beginning to melt in the warm spring afternoon. Slowly, she broke into a smile. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yeah! I said I was!” Nick exclaimed. “So do you wanna?”

“Well… when?”

“I dunno, whenever you want to. Next week… the week after that… whatever you want.”

She shook her head. “I can’t just hop on a plane and go to Hawaii, Nick, it’s not that simple. I’ll have to ask for time off from work. How long would you want to stay? A week?”

“However long you want,” he said patiently.

She giggled. “Well, okay… I’ll talk to my boss at work on Monday and see when I can get a week off. Sound good?”

Nick smiled. “Sounds excellent.”

***

Chapter 6

“Sounds excellent! So when are you going?”

Nick had to smile at AJ’s enthusiasm. He had called Nick just to talk, for the two hadn’t spoken in a few weeks, and right away, Nick found himself telling AJ his plans to take Claire vacationing in Hawaii.

“Second week in May,” he answered. “That’s the soonest Claire could get off work. I’m gonna call my travel agent tomorrow and get all the arrangements made.”

“Cool, man,” said AJ. “You know, that’s funny, cause Mary and I were talking about maybe going someplace tropical for a week or so. Just to get away, you know.”

“Mary?” Nick raised an eyebrow and pressed the phone closer to his ear, eager to hear more.

He could practically see AJ grinning on the other end of the line. “Yeah, Mary… I’ve been seeing her for a few weeks now. She’s a real cool girl; I want you to meet her.”

“She living with you yet?”

“Moved in last week.”

Nick snickered. “Typical Bone.”

“What? You know, I’m surprised you and Claire haven’t shacked up together yet. You’ve been together for, what, like four months now?”

“Yeah…”

“So…?”

Nick sighed. “I dunno, J, we haven’t even talked about moving in together.”

“Why not? You think she won’t want to?”

Nick shook his head, even though he knew AJ could not see it. “It’s not her,” he muttered, “it’s-“ He didn’t finish the sentence, but AJ caught the drift.

“It’s you?” he concluded. “Well, what’s up, Kaos? You don’t want her moving in with you? Don’t tell me you’re sick of her all ready! I thought you were crazy about her!”

“I am!” Nick insisted, agitated by all of AJ’s prying. Nosy son of a bitch. “I-I am crazy about her. I just…” He sighed again and raked a hand through his hair. “You wouldn’t understand.”

AJ couldn’t understand. He could never understand Nick’s dilemma… wanting to spend his every waking minute with Claire, yet afraid to take their relationship to the next level, knowing that having her living with him, sleeping beside him in his bed every night, would only lead to situations like the one he’d found himself in two weeks earlier, when he’d freaked out and had a breakdown in his bathroom.

The truth was, he wanted to take the next step with Claire, he really did. But he was so unsure… unsure of his own abilities, unsure of how she would react to him… just the thought of it made his palms sweat. He felt embarrassed even thinking about it, and it embarrassed him to be embarrassed of it. He was twenty-five years old, for God’s sake, an adult, not the same thirteen-year-old virgin who had sat on the floor of AJ’s bedroom and stared, wide-eyed and red-faced, at the centerfold in a copy of Playboy that AJ had somehow gotten a hold of.

It was AJ’s raspy voice that jarred him out of this thoughts now. “Nick? I said, what wouldn’t I understand?”

Nick hadn’t even heard him. “Butt out, AJ, it’s none of your business,” he said irritably.

“Have you fucked her yet?”

Nick felt his stomach constrict. Could AJ be anymore blunt? “That’s none of your goddamn business,” he repeated himself angrily.

“So I take it you haven’t. And let me guess – it’s not her,” said AJ, repeating Nick’s earlier words, “it’s you?”

Nick wasn’t sure which he was feeling more – the humiliation or the frustration. How had he let an innocent conversation take such a unpleasant turn? He felt like he’d backed himself into a corner, and the only way out was just to answer. “Yes,” he mumbled ashamedly, waiting for AJ to laugh at him.

But AJ didn’t even so much as snicker. In fact, there was dead silence on the other end of the line for a few breaths, and just when Nick had begun to wonder if AJ had somehow hung up on him without him realizing it, AJ spoke again. “Look, Nick… I know this is probably a touchy subject and not something you really want to talk about… and I know I can never fully understand what you’re going through – and what you’ve been through – but-“

“Damn straight,” Nick interrupted flatly.

“Hear me out, kid, would you?” pleaded AJ. “I’ll I’m trying to say is that I know I haven’t been through what you have, and I don’t know what it’s like… but I think I do know what’s going on here. You’re self-conscious – is that it?”

How could AJ know that, just from talking to him on the phone? Nick wondered. Was he that pathetically obvious?

He didn’t say anything, and AJ went on, “It’s not a crime, Nick. God, everyone has some part of their body that they’re insecure about. Do you think Claire’s totally confident about her body? I bet she’s not.”

Nick sighed. AJ was right – he didn’t know; he didn’t understand. “Oh come on, AJ, it’s not like I have a crooked nose or a weird birthmark or a third nipple or something! I have a stump, where I should have a leg! And don’t even try to tell me that’s not a major turn-off because I know it is!”

There was a short pause, and then AJ answered. “It’s not as much of a turn-off as a third nipple would be,” he said slyly, and Nick could hear the amusement in his voice. He tried to scowl, but the corners of his lips twitched.

“It’s not funny,” he huffed, even though it sort of was.

“Lighten up, Nick,” AJ said casually. “You worry too much, you know that? Do you honestly think she’d be dating you if she thought you were some disgusting freak of nature?”

Nick winced at the term. “I dunno…”

“Of course she wouldn’t. Being friends is one thing, but she’s your girlfriend now, Nick. That means something. It means a lot. Give her a chance, dude. Put some moves on her and see what happens.”

He made it sound so simple, but it wasn’t simple. It wasn’t simple at all.

Nick sighed. “I’ll try,” he said dully.

“Good. You need to get your confidence back, Nicky, along with your sex life. You’re young, kid; do it while you can!” Nick could feel his face heating up. Why again were they having this conversation? “And if you need any more advice… well, you know where to come. You know Bone Daddy’s here to help,” AJ said and cackled with glee.

Nick groaned. “Yeah, whatever, J.”

“So anyway… Kaos-“ AJ said, and Nick relaxed, sensing that AJ was about to change the subject. Thank God. “- about Hawaii…”

***

“What about Hawaii?”

Dianna set down the piece of pretzel she had been about to pop into her mouth and gave Claire a look from across the table. “What about Hawaii?” she repeated. “You’re leaving in like two weeks, girl, time to start planning!”

“Planning what?” Claire laughed.

“Like what clothes you’re going to bring with you, for one! Why do you think we came to the mall today? Not so you could poke through Suncoast and Spencer’s, I’ll tell you that much.” Dianna shoved the last bit of her pretzel into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “Are you ready?” she asked. “We’ve gone to all your favorites stores already; now it’s time to do some real shopping.”

“For clothes?” replied Claire, swiping at her mouth with a napkin to hide her smile from her best friend. Dianna was a clothes freak, always had been. They had been friends since high school, and even then, Dianna was the one who looked cute and put together in a new ensemble everyday, while Claire usually schlepped around in jeans and t-shirts.

“Of course!” Dianna chirped brightly, standing up and throwing her trash away in the nearest trash bin. Claire downed the rest of her soda and grudgingly stood up and followed Diana away from the food court. She looked longingly at Hot Topic and PacSun as they passed by, but Dianna dragged her on to the more girly clothing stores.

“I hate this place cause they rarely carry anything that looks good on me,” commented Dianna as she led Claire into Wet Seal, “but you can pull it off.”

Claire looked around at the clothing displays and wrinkled her nose. “Dianna… number one, I’m not a teenager anymore. Number two-“ She stopped to finger a tiny, white miniskirt. “-I’m not a whore.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not all sixteen-year-old slut stuff. They have cute things here too, and you need some cute clothes to wear on your trip! Come on, over here.” Dianna grabbed her forearm and pulled her off in the direction of all kinds of brightly-colored summer dresses.

“And why do I need new clothes just to go to Hawaii? You didn’t make me come shopping with you when I went with Tim last year.”

Dianna made a face. “That’s because I didn’t like Tim,” she replied matter-of-factly.

Claire raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You never told me you didn’t like him!”

“Well, no, not while you were still with him. But personally, I always thought he was kind of annoying. And a little clingy too.”

Claire shrugged. “I guess. So I take it Nick meets your standards then?”

Diana considered this a moment and then nodded. “Yeah, Nick’s all right.”

“Just all right??” Claire pretended to be offended. “Why do you care if I look cute on the trip then, if he’s just ‘all right’?”

“Because AJ’s going,” Dianna said with a wide grin.

Claire shook her head, looking amused. “Don’t even tell me you’re crushing on AJ now.”

“And don’t you even tell me he’s not totally sexy.”

Claire shrugged. “He’s not bad,” she offered. “But he’s taken. Don’t forget he’s bringing his new girlfriend along on this trip too; I think that’s the whole point.”

She’d only found out these details Tuesday afternoon. AJ had apparently called Nick Monday night and, somewhere over the course of the conversation, invited himself and his new girlfriend along. Nick had called his travel agent the next day, and now instead of just the two of them spending a week together in Hawaii, they’d be spending a week with AJ and this Mary in Hawaii.

“I hope you don’t mind…” Nick had been apologetic when he told her the news. “He kind of invited himself… you know how Bone is. And I thought it’d be nice to catch up with him. But don’t worry, I promise we’ll have plenty of time to ourselves too.”

Honestly, she didn’t really mind. She liked AJ. Out of Nick’s Backstreet friends, he was her favorite, and she hadn’t seen him in months either. It would be nice to catch up, like Nick said. Although she was looking forward to some alone time with Nick too. Not that they didn’t get enough here, but Tampa just wasn’t quite the magical paradise that Hawaii was. At least she hoped that’s what Hawaii would be this time around, for it certainly hadn’t been last time.

“Girlfriend shmirlfriend. If you ask me, he should move back to Florida and get a new girlfriend – me. Then the four of us could go on double dates together… and award shows and tours and-“ Her eyes began to glaze over, and Claire just shook her head.

“Don’t even tell me you’re all starstruck over some Backstreet Boy.”

“Hey, I never disliked the Backstreet Boys – that was you!”

“Oh, it still is me,” Claire corrected. “I don’t like the Backstreet Boys. I like my Backstreet Boy.”

Dianna smiled and opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was an, “Ooh!” She hurried over to one of the rack and plucked a hanger off of it. “What do you think of this?” She held up a short, aqua-colored dress dotted with white tropical flowers.

“It’s cute,” said Claire, nodding her approval. Famous last words. Ten minutes later, after Dianna had persuaded her to try the dress on, she was walking out of the store with a bag in hand and the dress inside it.

“You can wear it one of the nights you’re there,” Dianna said as they walked on to the next store, “and Nick won’t be able to resist you.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that,” Claire muttered under her breath, remembering how he’d pulled away from her that night. She had been careful not to go too far with him since, not wanting to cause anymore scenes like that one and embarrass him again.

“What do you mean?” asked Dianna, and Claire wished she hadn’t let that slip out.

“Oh, nothing,” she tried to play it off, focusing her attention on the display in the nearest store window. It happened to be Baby Gap, and she looked briefly at the pastel spring colors and tiny baseball caps and then turned away.

“No, you meant something,” Dianna insisted. “You had a tone.”

“I did not have a tone!”

“Trust me, you had a tone! Are you and Nick having problems?” Dianna pried, then gasped suddenly. “That’s why he’s randomly taking you to Hawaii!”

Claire slapped her forehead in exasperation and shook her head, groaning. “No!” she said quickly, “that is not why he’s taking me to Hawaii. And no, we’re not having problems. Well, not serious ones anyway.”

“Little ones then? Like what?”

Claire shook her head again. It’s none of her business, she told herself, but Dianna was giving her that look, that “please tell me; I’m dying to know” look. Dianna was notorious for being way too interested in everyone else’s love life, especially when she was not involved with anyone herself. She was the type who actually kept up on all the celebrity gossip – who was dating who in Hollywood and all of that – and her vested interest in Claire’s love life had only skyrocketed when Nick came into the picture.

“Oh, come on, Claire – you can tell me anything; you know that! We’re both adults; it’s not like I’m going to blab the latest developments in your steamy Backstreet romance everywhere. This is between us.”

The look in her dark brown eyes was sincere, and Claire trusted her. Dianna was a loudmouth and a gossip when it came to other people, but with Claire, she knew how to keep a secret. Claire sighed and reluctantly guided her friend over to a secluded bench. They sat down, and Dianna instantly turned towards Claire and said, “Spill.”

Claire smirked. “There’s not really much to spill,” she said with a shrug. “It’s just… well, let’s just say our ‘Backstreet romance’ isn’t exactly ‘steamy,’ if you know what I mean.”

“Ahh… I get you,” Dianna nodded seriously. “You know, I hope this doesn’t sound bad of me, but I was kind of wondering about that.”

Claire closed her eyes briefly and opened them again. “Di,” she said, straight-faced, “we need to get you a man.”

Dianna burst out laughing. “Oh, whatever, call me pathetic if you want! But I have wondered!” They both were laughing now, and when they finally stopped, Dianna’s face grew serious again. “So you haven’t, uh… been intimate with him then?”

Claire shook her head. “No.”

Dianna nodded slowly. “But… you want to?”

“Well, yeah… I mean, I love him… and that’s just the natural direction serious relationships are supposed to head in, right?”

“Right,” agreed Dianna. “But… well, it’s different with Nick.”

“Yeah…” Claire sighed. She’d felt a flash of anger at Dianna’s words, “it’s different with Nick,” and immediately wanted to jump to Nick’s defense. But she knew Dianna didn’t mean anything bad by it, and to be perfectly honest, she was right. It was different with Nick. The unspoken “rules” she had established with past boyfriends didn’t apply to him. “I just think he’s self-conscious,” she said. “Which is understandable. I just wish I knew what to do to make him feel good about himself again.”

Dianna pursed her lips. “I know…” she said sympathetically. “That’s tough. Maybe you just need to talk to him about it.”

“Yeah,” Claire agreed, “you’re probably right. I just don’t know how to go about starting up that conversation. I mean, what do I say?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Dianna shrugged, “but you’re brave; you’ll come up with something.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “I’m not that brave.”

“You are too! For lots of reasons. One being the fact that you’re even with him.”

“What does that mean?” Claire frowned.

Dianna shifted her weight awkwardly. “Well, nothing… just that… well, it’s kind of a turn off. Wh-what happened to him, I mean.”

“You don’t know him like I do,” Claire fumed defensively. “I don’t love him for what he looks like, Di. Although if you ask me, he’s quite attractive, and I usually don’t even go for blondes, so that’s saying a lot!”

“Don’t get snippy; I didn’t mean to offend you! I was just saying… I guess for most girls, it would be kind of a turn-off. But you’re not most girls, and I know you and Nick have always had something special. And you’re right, he is hot. He’ll always be hot.” Dianna smiled awkwardly, and Claire reluctantly returned the smile, trying to keep herself from getting too annoyed with her friend. Dianna just didn’t understand. She tried, but she would never fully understand the bond Claire had with Nick, that special bond created from all they had been through together.

No one could ever understand that. No one but them.

***

Chapter 7

Hand in hand with Nick, Claire led the way through the beach house, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at everything around her. The house Nick had rented for the two of them to stay in with AJ and Mary was amazing. Located right on a private beach in Maui, it was beautifully decorated in earthy shades of beige and white, with tropical accents. Large windows in every room framed picturesque views of the ocean on one side of the house and distant mountains on the other. Claire, used to staying in hotels on vacations, was enchanted. The beach house was more wonderful than even the finest hotel, and she knew Nick had to have pulled some strings to get it for a whole week on only three weeks’ notice.

“Ours?” she asked, leading Nick through the doorway of what she assumed was the master bedroom. They had already been through one of the two bedrooms, and it had been very nice, boasting a queen size bed and a bathroom with a large, marble tub. But this bedroom was even better. It had an ocean view, and the bed was a king, draped with a fluffy, Hawaiian flower-printed comforter. Claire ducked into the bathroom and squealed when she turned on the light. “Jacuzzi! This one’s definitely ours!”

“For sure,” Nick agreed with a casual grin. “We got here first, so we get to pick first.”

She nodded. “Makes sense to me. Come on, let’s go check out the beach.”

“Okay. Um… lemme, um, change my leg first.”

Claire couldn’t help but burst out laughing as she processed that line. It just sounded so… well, funny. She immediately felt a little bad though and looked at him quickly, but he was snickering too. Phew. “Make sure you say that again when AJ’s here; he’ll get a kick out of it,” she said with a wink in Nick’s direction. He grinned and nodded as he walked over to the foyer, where they had dropped all of their luggage.

She heard him rustling around and knew he was getting out his other prosthesis, the “water leg,” as he called it. This leg was specially designed to go in the water and on the beach, something the C-Leg he normally wore could not do. He’d found this out the hard way a few months ago, when he’d gone for a walk on the beach and gotten sand inside the prosthesis, which messed it up and left Nick spending a few days on crutches while it was being repaired. The prosthetist that had fixed his leg suggested investing in another leg that he could not only walk on the beach with, but swim with as well. Nick had agreed to be fitted for one, and within a couple of weeks, he’d convinced Claire to come swimming with him so he could try out the new prosthesis.

“Looking good,” she said to him now as he returned, having swapped his pants along with his artificial leg. He’d worn long khakis on the flight (he always wore long pants in public, and she knew he was still uncomfortable letting everyone see the prosthesis), but now he was dressed in a baggy pair of tropical print board shorts that exposed the water leg. It was not as advanced as the C-Leg, nor did it look it, but it did its job. He could walk on it (though not as well as on the better prosthesis), and in the water, it kept him more balanced than he would have otherwise been.

Nick rolled his eyes at her comment and just said, “Okay, let’s go.” They made their way outside through a pair of sliding glass doors and ended up on a sunny deck. They descended the steps that lead to the beach slowly, Nick’s arm tight around Claire’s waist. He released his grip on her once they had reached the sand, but she kept her arm lightly draped around him anyway, not wanting him to fall in the soft sand, uneven in places from the wind. Not like he’d get hurt, landing in the sand, but she wanted to save him the embarrassment.

“This is beautiful,” she commented as they neared the water, gazing out at the ocean. It looked so blue compared to the Gulf back home. She dropped her arm and took Nick’s hand instead, turning her head to smile at him. “Thank you for bringing me.”

“My pleasure,” he returned with a charming smile. “Isn’t this way better than when you came with Tim?”

“Way,” she agreed, her eyes sweeping over the view. The only other houses in sight were in the distance; when Nick had told her the vacation home was on a private beach, he meant private. It was wonderful to think that they had all of this to themselves. She and Tim had stayed in a nice hotel right near a beach on the island of Hawaii, but that beach had been packed with people, not at all like this. Being on a crowded beach with Tim had made Hawaii seem a lot less pleasant than it was now, as she stood on a secluded strip of beach with Nick, letting the breeze tousle her hair and the salty air fill her lungs. This was what Hawaii was supposed to be like, she decided, a cute little beach house with a view of the ocean, not a view of the water in the toilet as she knelt on the floor of her hotel room, trying to rid her body of the bad seafood she’d already brought up hours ago.

“Are you getting hungry?” Nick asked out of the blue, making her stomach churn after what she’d just been reminiscing on.

“Um… I dunno, are you?” She knew he hadn’t eaten much on the plane. Neither had she. He had to be starving, and deep down, she probably was too.

“Yeah,” he said, “but we should probably wait for AJ and Mary to get here before we go out to eat, huh?”

“Yeah, probably,” she replied. “Maybe we could just run to a convenience store and get some snacks?”

“Sounds like a plan. Lemme just go inside and change again.”

“I swear, you’re worse than Dianna,” Claire teased as they headed back toward the house. “You don’t see me changing my pants every five minutes.”

“I wouldn’t want you to. Your ass looks cute in these,” Nick said with a grin, and she felt his hand grab the back of her loose-fitting capris. She reached back and pried it off (okay, flung it off), inadvertently sending him backpedaling. He stumbled in the sand and fell, landing right on his own ass.

She tried hard not to laugh, but it was nearly impossible to say “I’m sorry,” without giggling. “Now you’re really going to have to change your pants,” she said, reaching her hand out to help him up. “Your butt’s gonna be all sandy.”

He retaliated by hurling a handful of sand at her legs. The grains that didn’t make it far up enough to hit her pants stung as they bounced off her shins, but she didn’t show it. With the devilish grin she loved, he said, “Now you’re gonna have to change too.”

Not even bothering to brush off her pants, she bent down and scooped up a large handful herself. He scrambled to get up, but she was too quick for him; before he could get too far, she had grabbed him and dumped a small mountain of sand down the front of his shirt. “Truce?” she asked with a pleasant smile as he squirmed and wriggled, grabbing at his shirt to try to shake out some the sand.

“Truce,” he muttered, and she could tell he was trying to sound more annoyed than he really was. She held out her hand again, and he reached for her with his middle finger extended, grinning widely before allowing her to help him up. “I can’t believe you did that,” he said, stretching out the hem of his shirt and watching as grains of sand fell from beneath it.

“Yeah, well, you threw sand on me first – payback’s a bitch, buddy. And at least you don’t have boobs for that stuff to get stuck between.” As soon as those words left her mouth, she wished she hadn’t said them – one look at the wicked gleam in his eyes, and she knew she’d end up with a cleavage filled with sand the first time she ventured out in her swimsuit.

They walked leisurely back to the house and went inside, leaving Nick’s shirt draped over one of the deck railings to be shaken out properly later.

***

Nearly an hour later, a bright yellow jeep came trundling up the narrow road that led to the beach house. It lurched to a stop beside the black SUV that was already parked in front of the house, and the two small doors opened as Nick and Claire climbed out.

“They must have gotten here,” Nick said, pointing out the SUV that had not been there earlier as he struggled to get down from the jeep without landing flat on his face. Maybe a cramped vehicle that was high off the ground wasn’t the most practical choice for him, but Claire had fallen in love with the Crayola yellow jeep at the rental place, and with its removable top and windows, it had seemed perfect for driving around Hawaii in. Definitely more exciting than the plain black SUV AJ had apparently rented.

As Claire was grabbing the bags of groceries they’d picked up, Nick heard the screen door of the house bang shut and looked to see AJ striding across the front porch.

“Nick-ay!” AJ called, jogging over to meet him. “What’s goin’ on, dude?” he asked, as he pulled Nick into a brotherly embrace.

“Not too much, man,” Nick replied, patting AJ’s back warmly. “Did you guys just get here?”

“About twenty minutes ago, yeah,” AJ nodded. “Where have you two been? Hey, Claire!”

“What’s up, AJ?” Claire said with a smile as she appeared at Nick’s side, juggling three paper sacks of groceries.

“Lemme get those,” AJ said, taking the sacks from her. “Christ, Nick, you’re making your woman carry all your shit?” He shook his head with exaggerated exasperation and promptly set the brown grocery bags on the ground. “C’mere, girl,” he said to Claire, holding out his arms. She gave him a friendly hug and pulled away just as the screen door opened and slammed shut again.

Nick looked up to see another woman walking slowly across the front porch. As the stranger came up to stand beside AJ, Nick got a better look at her. She was a nice-looking woman with a tanned, curvaceous body and long, chestnut colored hair that was streaked with golden highlights. “Hi,” she said to Nick, holding our her hand. “I’m Mary.”

Nick offered her a half-smile and immediately took her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mary,” he said. “I’m Nick.”

“I know,” smiled Mary. “I’ve heard so much about you from AJ.”

He kept the smile pasted on his face, wondering the whole time what exactly AJ might have said about him. He wished he could say the same to her, but the truth was, he knew virtually nothing about her, having only found out she even existed a few weeks ago.

“And you must be Claire?” asked Mary, now extending her hand to Claire.

“Yep,” said Claire, shaking her hand. “Has AJ been telling you stories about me too?”

Mary smiled. “Only the good kind.” She winked. “At least that’s what he told me to tell you.”

Claire laughed lightly, and Nick relaxed. Mary seemed cool so far, and he was relieved.

“Well, whaddya say we go inside and sit down, maybe have a drink?” AJ suggested, picking up the grocery bags again. Nodding, they all followed him inside the house.

***

Exhausted and jet-lagged from their flights, Nick, Claire, AJ, and Mary stayed in that night and went to bed early. Nick couldn’t help but wonder what AJ and Mary were up to in the next room as he sat up in bed, his back pressed up against his pillows, the covers pulled up to his waist, hiding his stump. But he could hear nothing from their bedroom, only water running and rummaging sounds coming from the master bathroom. After a few minutes though, the noises stopped, and the bathroom door swung open. Shutting off the light, Claire emerged, dressed in a black tank top and faded pink sleep shorts. She padded across the bedroom in her bare feet and came around the bed, climbing onto it on Nick’s right side, her usual spot.

It was sort of weird, Nick thought, having her slide under the covers beside him. They had slept in the same bed several times before this, but never really intentionally… it was something that just happened, usually because she had fallen asleep there while watching a movie. Never had they actually gone to bed together like this, like they were some married couple… or at least a live-in couple.

But as he, too, lay down, and she snuggled up against him, her head against his shoulder, her body nestled in the crook of his arm, he realized there was no reason for him to mind – he loved having her there.

“You want me to turn off the light?” he asked softly.

She raised her head so she could see his face and nodded, smiling. “I’m so sleepy,” she said, “and I can’t wait for tomorrow. It’s going to be wonderful.”

“It is,” he agreed. “I’ll make sure you’ll have the time of your life.”

“And I’ll owe it all to you…” she jokingly sang what he thought was part of the Dirty Dancing song, but between the fact that she couldn’t sing worth a crap, and the fact that he hated that movie, he wasn’t entirely sure. Still, he chuckled and took her soft, freshly-scrubbed face in his hands, turning it up as he leaned down to gently kiss her lips. He could smell her breath, minty sweet from brushing her teeth, and he longed to taste her. But he held back and reluctantly broke the goodnight kiss, leaning over to turn off the lamp on his side of the bed.

Darkness enveloped them, and until his eyes adjusted, he could not see her there beside him. But he could feel her. He tightened his arm around her, bringing her even closer to his side, wanting to feel her there all night. “’Night, baby,” he whispered.

“Mm… goodnight,” she murmured, sounding as if she was already half-asleep. Smiling to himself, he lightly squeezed her shoulder and ran his hand down her bare arm and side and back up again, eventually lulling her to sleep. When he heard her deep, even breathing, he closed his eyes and let sleep wash over him like the warm, tropical waves on the beach outside his window.

***

Chapter 8


Lying here with you
I watch you while you sleep
The dawn is closing in
With every breath you breathe…


Claire awoke the next morning feeling perfectly content. It was light outside, yet she could tell it was still early in the morning. A light, cool breeze drifted in through the open windows, billowing the sheer drapes and tickling her face and arms. Carefully untangling her legs from the covers, Claire rolled over slowly in bed and found Nick still lying there at her side, sound asleep. She smiled at his peaceful face, admiring the perfect messiness of his hair, the gentle arch of his eyebrows, the way his lips were pressed together into almost a pout.

Thinking of how nice it was to wake up beside him, she realized she could probably lie there and watch him sleep for hours. But they were in Hawaii! She wasn’t about to waste her time doing that. Now that she was awake, she was ready to get on with her day.

She leaned closer to Nick and lightly touched his cheek. When that did not cause him to stir, she ran her fingers down his face, tracing the outline of his mouth, the stubble above his upper lip rough against her fingertips.

“Nick,” she whispered in his ear, growing impatient. “Wake up.”

Finally, that did it. A soft sigh escaped his throat, and his eyelashes fluttered. She smiled triumphantly as his blue eyes opened and focused on her. Beneath her fingers, his lips curved into a smile, and he reached up and took her hand in his, softly kissing her fingertips before drawing her hand down.

“’Morning,” he said, his voice low and hoarse from sleep.

“’Morning, sleepyhead.” Claire rolled over onto her stomach, propped herself up on her elbows, and looked at him expectantly. “So,” she said, “what are we going to do today?”

He groaned. “What time is it?”

She looked over at the clock on her side of the bed. “7:30.”

“7:30??” he repeated, his eyes bugging. “Jesus, no wonder I’m still so tired. What’d you have to wake me up for?”

“Cause we’re in Hawaii, and I don’t want to waste the whole morning sleeping!”

“We’re on vacation. That’s what vacations are for. Sleeping in,” he murmured tiredly, closing his eyes.

“No,” she said, poking him in the side until his eyes flew open again. “That’s what weekends are for. Get up.”

“You get up. I wanna sleep.” He closed his eyes again and did not move.

Claire heaved an exaggerated sigh and rolled out of bed, making sure she jostled it as much as possible in the process. Glancing back at him, she could see his lips twitching as he tried hard not to laugh, but she didn’t smile. Lazy spoiled brat. Forget him; she’d go see if AJ or Mary was up yet. She left the master bedroom, shutting the door behind her, and padded out to the main part of the house, only to find that the living room and kitchen were deserted. Okay, so AJ and Mary were still sleeping too.

She wandered into the quiet kitchen and poured herself a glass of orange juice, which she carried out onto the deck with her. Perching on a deck chair, she took a sip of the juice and balanced the small glass on her bare thigh as she looked out toward the ocean. The sun had already risen, and she was disappointed she had missed it, sure that it had been spectacular. Oh well, she’d be sure to catch it later in the week.

Behind her, she was startled to hear the screen door slide open, breaking the morning’s silence. Glancing over her shoulder, she was hoping to see Nick, up and ready to join the land of the living, but instead, it was AJ who had come out onto the deck.

She had to smile as she looked at him. Apparently she had never set eyes on him this early in the morning before because the AJ who stood before her now was not the put together and perfectly groomed AJ she was used to. He was shirtless, exposing his heavily-tattooed upper body, and wearing only a pair of baggy boxer shorts. His dark hair, which was usually spiked to perfection, was disheveled from sleep, and a layer of stubble on his face took away from his carefully manicured goatee.

“Morning, Claire,” he greeted her with a groggy smile.

“Good morning,” she replied brightly, watching in amusement as he shuffled across the deck to the railing and proceeded to light up a cigarette. He took a long drag and closed his eyes, savoring it. She shook her head, wondering how he could stand it. She’d smoked a cigarette only once, in high school. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, one she vowed she’d never repeat.

Watching him flick ash over the side of the railing and raise the cigarette to his lips again, she said casually, “You do know those things could give you cancer.”

His profile constricted as he scowled and turned to face her, looking all set to come back at her with some snide retort. But then he stopped, and his face slackened, as he seemed to realize who he was talking to. He opened his mouth once, then closed it without a word and reluctantly put out the cigarette.

Inwardly, Claire was glad, but at the same time, she felt kind of guilty. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean you had to put it out.”

“I can take a hint,” he replied gruffly.

“You’re an adult, AJ, you can do what you want. I was just giving you a hard time.” She smiled apologetically, and he smirked, nodding.

“Yeah,” he said, coming to take a seat beside her, “but you’re right. It’s a dumb thing to do, I know; I just can’t help it. I don’t drink anymore, so I smoke instead. Somehow it makes it easier.” He shrugged.

“I understand,” she nodded and decided to change the subject before she got herself into more trouble. “So… Mary still sleeping?”

“Yeah. Nick too?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, I can fix that if you want him up.” A devilish smile crept across his face, and his brown eyes sparkled wickedly.

Claire snickered. “Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?”

He raised a finger to his lips. “Come with me.”

***

“Stop giggling!” AJ hissed, as Claire clamped a hand tightly over her mouth, trying to stifle back her laughter.

“Sorry,” she squeaked breathlessly. But it was nearly impossible to keep from giggling as she looked at the man stretched out on the bed in front of her.

Nick had fallen back to sleep and was now out like a light again. AJ had explained that after years of spending the night on moving tour buses, the guys had all developed the ability to sleep through practically anything. Claire was glad; Nick’s deep sleeping had worked to her advantage this time. The boy had slept on relatively peacefully and totally oblivious, as she and AJ had raided Mary’s makeup stash and quickly and carefully applied the products to Nick’s face. AJ had gone overkill with the blush, leaving Nick looking like a doll with two large, bright pink circles on his cheeks, while Claire had smeared shimmery purple shadow across his eyelids and did her best to add a touch of black mascara to his lashes. Several coats of cherry red lipstick applied to his lips and a large, hot pink Hawaiian flower from the bouquet in the living room tucked behind one ear completed the look.

“Lemme get my camera,” AJ whispered. “Be right back.” He slinked out of the bedroom and returned a moment later with a small, silver camera. “Better get a picture before we ruin it,” he said and zoomed in to get a shot of Nick’s face. “Okay, now… the water.”

Feeling quite evil, Claire ducked into the bathroom just long enough to fill a cup with cold water from the faucet and then came back into the bathroom, holding up the glass for AJ to see.

“Exxxxxcellent…” AJ rubbed his hands together like Mr. Burns and then held up his camera. “Dump it on him, and I’ll get a picture.”

Claire nodded and crept up closer to the bed. She held out the glass, hesitated only a moment, and then flung all of the water in it onto her sleeping boyfriend. She jumped out of the way just as Nick jerked up, gasping and sputtering. Over the sound of her own hysterical laughter, she heard a click and saw a flash as AJ, cackling just as hard, snapped a photo.

The laughter was cut short, however, when Nick, totally discombobulated, exclaimed “What the fuck?” and leaped out of bed. He tried to land on the leg that was no longer there and went down like a lead balloon, hitting the floor with a massive thud.

“Nick!” Claire cried, aghast, and ran around the bed to where he was lying in a crumpled heap. “Oh my God, Nick, I’m so sorry!! Are you okay??” He had rolled onto his side now, and though his back was to her, she could see his hands clutching the end of his stump. Pains shot through her, and she gasped, “Oh God, Nick, did you land on-?“ She couldn’t even get the words out; it made her hurt too much to even think about it. Sinking quickly to her knees, she crawled around him so that she was kneeling in front of him.

“Is he okay?” she heard AJ ask. She didn’t reply. Nick was clearly hurting; his eyes were squeezed shut, and he was breathing raggedly.

She put her hand on his shoulder and gripped it firmly. “Nick, come on, talk to me,” she pleaded.

“Go away,” he mumbled, his voice sounding strained.

Claire looked up helplessly at AJ, who only shrugged. She shook her head. “Not till I know you’re all right. What did you hit? D-did you hit your-“

“My stump?” Nick spat venomously, his eyes flashing open to glare at her through a sheen of moisture. “Yes, and it hurts like a motherfucker!!”

Claire bit her lip. “I’m sorry… what can I do?”

“I think you did enough by throwing water on me!” he retorted, making her wince again. He didn’t even know about the makeup yet; the mascara was running in streaks down his cheeks from the water he’d been doused with, making him look even worse. She felt terrible, and she wanted to just sink through the floor and disappear, but she couldn’t leave him, not until she was sure he was all right.

Vaguely, she heard the door swing open, and then Mary’s voice asked, “What happened??”

“AJ, get her out,” Nick said miserably through gritted teeth.

Claire looked up at AJ again and watched as he guiltily followed his girlfriend out of the bedroom. He closed the door behind them and did not return, leaving Claire alone on the floor with Nick, who was still curled up on his side, his eyes closed once more.

“Lemme help you up, Nick,” she said softly. “Okay?” She started to slide her hands under his arms, prepared to haul him up, but he pushed her away.

“I can do it myself,” he snapped.

Mutely, Claire nodded and scooted back, watching warily as he sat up and then rose onto his one knee. Grabbing the edge of the bed for support, he stood up shakily and crawled back into bed. He stretched out on his back and closed his eyes. Claire hesitated a moment, then perched on the edge of the bed and reached out to grab his hand. She gave it a slight squeeze and said again in a tiny voice, “I’m so sorry, Nick.”

***

Nick didn’t reply, and Claire went on, “We didn’t mean for you to get hurt… we were just having fun.”

“Yeah, at my expense,” he mumbled. “Hope you had your fun cause I sure as hell didn’t.”

He opened his eyes to see Claire shaking her head. “How’s your leg?” she asked after a minute. “How bad did you hit it? Do you think it’s okay?”

To be honest, he didn’t think he’d really banged it too bad. He’d half caught himself with his hands, softening the blow of his stump against the carpeted floor. But he hadn’t been exaggerating earlier; it really had hurt. The pains shot all the way up and down the left side of his body, almost like he’d been shocked. They were fading away now, but his stump was still sore, and he wondered if he’d have a bruise.

He looked at Claire, prepared to tell her exactly how bad it had felt and how he could practically feel the black and blue bump forming at its rounded end, but the look on her face made him hesitate. He’d been too angry and in too much pain earlier to notice, but she looked absolutely stricken, her face a mask of guilt and alarm. He was still pissed at her for humiliating him and causing him to hurt himself, but he didn’t want to make her feel worse.

“I think it’s all right,” he said slowly. “It’s starting to feel better.”

“Do you want some ice for it? Would that help?” Claire asked.

“Um… sure, maybe.” Nick shrugged.

Claire nodded. “I’ll go get some. Don’t move; I’ll be right back.” She left the room, and he heard her conversing with AJ outside the door, although he could not make out what they were saying. Trying to ignore the muffled voices, Nick sat up and carefully peeled off the stretchy “sock” he usually wore over his stump, anxious to see if any damage had been done. The skin looked red where he’d made contact with the floor, but there was no sign of bruising. Yet when he gingerly prodded the red spot, the whole limb twinged, and he winced.

“Is it okay?” Claire asked, breezing back into the room. She was carrying a washcloth packed with ice cubes. “Couldn’t find any plastic bags to put it in,” she said apologetically, “so this will have to do.”

“That’s fine,” said Nick.

“So is it okay?” she asked again and looked carefully at his stump. “It doesn’t look like it’s bruising yet, that’s good.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, uncomfortable with her examining it so closely. The only time he ever showed it uncovered was when they were swimming, and then it was hidden beneath the water, not out in the open for her to have to look at.

“Here,” she said, “hopefully this will help.” Very delicately, she draped the makeshift ice pack over his thigh. “Does that feel okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” replied Nick. “Come up here.” He patted the empty space on her side of the bed. She managed a slight smile and came around to the other side of the bed. She climbed on and sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, facing him.

“I’m sorry,” she said for at least the fourth time, the look of guilt reappearing on her face.

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t expect me to be a dumbass and fall out of bed.”

“Just like you didn’t expect to have cold water dumped all over you. I’m sorry.” Five times she’d said it now.

He pulled his drenched t-shirt away from his body and chuckled. “Nope, definitely didn’t see that coming. But you never paid me back for that April Fool’s prank, so I guess I had it coming, huh?” He expected her to smile, but she was still looking guilty. “Claire,” he said, “whatever I said a few minutes ago, you know I didn’t mean – I was in agony, okay, and I was embarrassed.”

She shook her head. “It’s not that…” she replied. “It’s just… well…” She bit her lip. “You should see your face.”

“Wha…?” Confused, Nick reached up and ran his hands over his face. It was wet, but other than that, it seemed normal. But when he lowered his hands and looked at his fingertips, he was startled to find them dotted with pink, brushed with purple, and smeared with black. “What the-“

“It’s makeup,” she whispered, watching him carefully and looking ready to dart out of the way at any moment, in case he decided to strike.

With a sinking feeling, Nick realized how truly idiotic he must have looked a few minutes ago… and how utterly pathetic he had to look now. He felt his face getting hot with humiliation, but he tried to hide it (not realizing that the rouge on his cheeks already camouflaged his flush quite well). You deserved it, he told himself, remembering all the pranks he’d played on AJ throughout the years and the April Fool he’d pulled over on Claire. But he couldn’t help but feel a little exploited.

“I’m so sorry, Nick.” Six times. “It was supposed to be funny, but it totally backfired. Shows what I get for trying to prank you.”

“Yeah… this should be a lesson to you – never mess with the master.” He forced himself to smile, to let her know he wasn’t angry. Well… not too angry anyway.

Claire smiled. “Well, come here, Master, I wanna kiss those ruby red lips of yours.”

Ruby red lips?! Nick thought in horror, but his thoughts were silenced as she leaned forward, wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, and kissed him. When she pulled away, her lips were red too.

He pointed this out, and she giggled. “Are they?” Leaning forward again, she pressed her lips to his forehead, and when she pulled back, she grinned widely. “They are!”

Assuming he now had a big red lip-print on his forehead to go with the rest of his makeup job, he grinned and pulled her back to him, leaning forward himself to do the same to her. Moments later, she had a pair of red lips on her own forehead. “If anyone saw you now, they’d have a fun time figuring out that one,” he chuckled.

She smirked. “They’d probably think I was a lesbian.”

“Or that I was a drag queen.”

They both laughed.

“How’s that ice pack?” asked Claire. “Is it working?”

Nick considered this. The ice pack was definitely getting cold, and it didn’t seem to be helping much. If anything, it was making it worse, for all of a sudden he was aware of dull pains shooting up and down his leg… all the way down to his toes. Phantom pains. He didn’t get them very often anymore, but every once in awhile, they still plagued him. And he was sure it was the ice that was bringing them on this time.

“No,” he answered Claire’s question, shifting uncomfortably, “actually, I think the cold’s making it worse…”

“Oh. Well, so much for that idea.” She reached out and carefully scooped up the ice-filled washcloth. Her fingers brushed against his skin as she did so, sending tingles through him. He jerked in surprise at the sensation; his stump had always seemed particularly sensitive, but it had been a long time since anyone but he had touched it. In fact, no one had ever touched it, other than his surgeon and the nurses at the hospital.

“I’m sorry,” Claire said quickly, probably alarmed by his reaction.

He shook his head. “No, you’re fine,” he assured her. “It’s just sensitive; I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, biting her lip apprehensively. “I didn’t mean to touch it; I was trying to be gentle.”

He smiled a little. “You were,” he said, “and no, you didn’t hurt me. You can touch it if you want to.”

She met his eyes, and for a moment, she did not move. Then, slowly, she reached out and placed her hand upon his thigh. Her palm felt so warm compared to the cold ice pack that had rested there before, and again, his skin tingled with her touch. But it was a good tingle, and it took the place of the phantom pains, relaxing him. He let out the breath he’d been holding in a soft sigh.

“Are you okay with this?” Claire asked, still looking deep into his eyes. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He knew she was thinking of that night at the beginning of April (the same day he’d played that prank on her, ironically). He’d recoiled at the mere idea of her nearing that spot, and yet, now she was actually touching him there, and… he was okay with it. “Yeah,” he said softly, “it’s fine. You’re not making me uncomfortable. It’s… it’s a part of my body. It’s… me.” He looked down at her hand, still resting motionlessly on the remnant of his severed leg, on the ugly stump he detested, and then slowly raised his eyes back up to meet yours. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

She shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. “I’m not,” she stated simply. “Like you said, it’s just a part of your body. It’s you. And I love you, Nick. Just the way you are.”


I can feel the change
The change you’ve made in me
But will I ever see
All the things you see in me

When you say that I’m one of a kind
Baby, I don’t see it, but you believe
That I’m so strong and true, I promise you
I’ll try to be that kind of man
Because you love me like I am

When it comes to love
I may not know the rules
But there’s one thing I know
My heart belongs to you…

You show me you love me
With a fire that burns deep inside

When you say that I’m one of a kind
Baby, I don’t see it, but you believe
That I’m so strong and true, I promise you
I’ll try to be that kind of man
Because you love me like I am…

I’ll never understand
I don’t think I’ll ever understand
Why you love me
Why you love me just like I am

- “Like I Am” by Rascal Flatts


***


AN: Thanks to Bean for the lyrics – I’m not a country fan, so I would have never found them myself!

Chapter 9

“This sucks,” Nick muttered, tossing his crutches aside and struggling to ease himself down onto the beach towel Claire had spread out for him without falling.

Smoothing her own towel across the sand, Claire sank down next to him. “Well, look on the bright side – at least you can tan your stump.”

He wrinkled his nose at her and looked down at the aforementioned limb in disgust. “Don’t think that’s gonna happen – it’s gonna be black and blue, not tan.” He could already see the bruise forming, and it was tender to the touch. He’d already tried to put on his prosthesis, and it was very uncomfortable, so he was going without for the time being, hopefully he’d be able to wear the leg later. He was not used to having to rely on crutches for long periods of time anymore, and they were a great inconvenience.

Claire grimaced. “I’m sorry, Nick.”

“Don’t start that again,” he said quickly, offering her a crooked smile. “It’s not like you tripped me.”

“No,” she chucked dryly, “only dumped cold water on you in your sleep.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll get you back.” He winked. “Besides, the pictures were kinda funny…” When he felt it was safe to come back into Nick’s room, AJ had apologized sincerely… and then showed Nick and Claire the pictures he had taken in the preview window of his camera.

She giggled. “They were. You looked so pretty; too bad I had to ruin it by letting your makeup run!” She reached out and patted his cheek. “Hopefully it didn’t clog your pores.”

He snorted. “Yeah, if I end up with a face full of zits tomorrow morning on top of everything else, you’re gonna pay.”

She stuck out her tongue at him and then reached over to pick up her jumbo bottle of Sunblock. “Will you worry about payback later and rub some of this on me now? Or else I’m gonna end up red and spotty too.”

He laughed and took the bottle from her, opening the cap while she turned so that she was sitting with her back to him. Squirting a heap of the sunscreen into his hand, he started slathering the cream across the fair skin of her back and shoulders, trying not to get any on her yellow two-piece swimsuit. “You want me to do the front too?” he asked eagerly.

She turned around and took the bottle away from him, smirking. “That’s okay, I got it.”

He sighed, watching as she smeared sunscreen onto her neck and collarbone area, descending down to her stomach. When she set to work on her thighs, he asked casually, his hand digging into the sand beside him, “How much longer you think J and Mary will be gone?” The two of them had disappeared before noon, going to “do some sightseeing, maybe some shopping,” as AJ had said. It was now getting to be late afternoon.

“I dunno,” Claire murmured, rubbing the sunscreen in. “AJ’s a pretty big shopper, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he is,” Nick said, tightening his fingers around the handful of sand he was holding. “Hey, Claire?”

“Wha-?” She looked up, but he made his move before she had a chance to react, grabbing her and pulling her closer to him while he dumped the handful of sand down the top of her bathing suit. He laughed riotously at the expression of shock on her face as she looked down to find her top filled with sand and her chest covered in it, the grains sticking to her sunscreen-slathered skin.

“Payback,” he smirked.

“Ahh, I hate you! I knew you were gonna do that to me!” she exclaimed, pummeling his shoulder. “Ugh, it’s all gritty! And it won’t-“ She brushed off her skin determinedly, without noticeable results. “-come off!” She groaned while Nick laughed, and stood up. “This beach is private, right? As in, no one can see us?” she asked, looking around warily.

“Right…” Nick answered, looking up at her in perplexity.

“Good,” said Claire and without any further explanation, strode off toward the water, walking straight into the waves without a second thought. Nick just watched as she walked out until the water was past her waist. He squinted, wondering what she was doing, but his eyes quickly flew open wide when he realized she was stripping off her swimsuit top. Her back to him, she dipped down into the water and rose back up about a minute later to put her top back on. Then she turned around and back she came, wading through the water and trotting back up the sand to him as if nothing had happened.

“That’s better,” she said with a casual smile as she plopped down next to Nick, running a hand over her wet, but sand-free chest.

He flashed her a half-smile. “Did you get your top all rinsed out too? If not, you could just take it off again, I don’t mind.”

“Ha ha,” she smirked. “Nice try. I’m not gonna go topless if you’re not, buddy.” She tugged at the strap of his white wifebeater.

“So if I take my top off, you’ll take off yours too? Is that how that works?” Nick asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

She grinned. “I dunno, maybe… you said this beach was private, right?”

“That I did.” His half smile grew to a full one. A very wide, full one.

“Well, then…”

With almost barbaric passion, she ripped his shirt from his body, exposing his broad, muscled chest. Beads of sweat glistened tantalizingly on his bronze skin. She ran her hand slowly down his chest, savoring the sensation of his skin against her fingertips. His heart beat strong and steady beneath her hand, as his chest rose and fell with heavy, fervorous pants of ecstasy. He pulled her close, half-sliding off her swimsuit top in the process, and leaned over her, zealously kissing her lips. His mouth traveled down her body, caressing her neck, then her shoulders. As she pulled her top off in one fluid movement, his kisses grew more intense, rapidly descending downward...

“Nick,” she breathed his name; never had it sounded so wonderful to his ears.

“Nick…” Now it sounded almost like…

“Nickay!”

AJ?

Nick blinked and snapped out of his daydream to find himself still sitting on his beach towel, fully-clothed, the wifebeater still hiding the scars on his side, and Claire sitting next to him, her attention drawn up to the house, where someone was calling to them from the deck. AJ. Damn him. Why did he always seem to come back at the worst of times?

“Hey, stop spacing out, AJ’s calling you,” Claire said, poking Nick.

“We’ll be up soon!” he shouted quickly to AJ and then turned to Claire. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, feeling his cheeks turn slightly pink. If only she knew the scene he had just imagined…

“It’s all good. So much for privacy though, eh?”

He chuckled. “Yeah… so much for that.”

“That’s all right,” she said with a smile and patted his arm. “Later.”

Nick blinked. Later?

***

“Are you having fun?”

Nick looked over at Claire. “What’d you say?”

“I said, are you having fun??” she repeated, raising her voice to be heard about the pounding music. “You don’t look like you’re having much fun!”

He shrugged and looked down into his tall glass of frothy, amber liquid. “The beer’s good,” he replied vaguely and flashed her a quick half-smile. He didn’t want to ruin the night for her, but she had read him right – he wasn’t having much fun at all.

A few years ago, he would have felt right at home here – music pulsing, lights flashing, drinks flowing, hot bodies dancing. But the club scene was no longer something of which he was a part. As sat there now at the bar, the blaring music, which seemed to shake his body from the inside out as it pounded through the club, was too loud. The lights, whose long neon beams cut through the smoky haze as they flickered and twirled over the dance floor, made him dizzy. The drinks were good, but hardly worth the trip into town, and as for the hot bodies on the dance floor… Nick would have given anything to join them. To slip off of his bar stool and stride coolly onto the floor, picking up a hottie or two on the way. To bump and grind between them, their fine, scantily-clad bodies pressed up against him, and maybe lean down to steal a kiss between songs.

But instead, he remained cemented to his stool and only watched, disengaged, as other men danced with the women. In the corner he could see AJ and Mary, dancing so close it almost seemed they were attached, his hand half up her short skirt, her arms in the air. It had been AJ’s idea to check out the nightlife in the city of Lahaina. “I’ve heard they’ve got some kickin' clubs there,” he’d told Nick enthusiastically and somehow convinced Nick to come out with Mary and him that night.

Nick hadn’t taken much convincing. After the kind of day he had, he was itching to go out and do something, and when AJ had suggested clubbing, it didn’t really even occur to him that clubbing now wouldn’t be as much fun as clubbing then had been – “then” being before cancer had ravaged his body and led to the loss of his leg.

It was more than obvious to him by now, as he sat sipping his beer, with nothing else to do but that. Some clubbers they were – AJ went to dance and not to drink, and Nick was the exact opposite, much to his chagrin. Only the two women got the best of both worlds, although Mary seemed to be staying fairly sober, for AJ’s benefit, and Claire had been sitting at Nick’s side all night. Looking at her now, he realized she probably wasn’t having much fun either.

“You know, you can go dance or something if you want to,” he told her. “Don’t feel like you gotta sit here with me all night.”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m not that great of a dancer anyway.”

“It don’t matter how good you are, just that you have fun doing it. You’re probably not having any fun sitting here.”

“Eh…. like you said… the beer’s good.” She smiled, and he gave her a sympathetic look, wishing they hadn’t tagged along with AJ and Mary. He would have much rather been back on the beach with her, alone…

“Hey, I’ll be right back. I’m just gonna hit the ladies room.” She patted his knee as she slid off her barstool, and as she started to weave her way through the crowd toward the restrooms, he realized it had been the prosthetic one she’d touched. He wondered if she had realized that before she did it, or if it had just been instinct.

Smiling to himself, he turned back to his drink and took a long swig, enjoying the buzz he was getting from the alcohol. A few more of these, and he would forget he wasn’t having a good time.

Claire came back to the bar with a funny little smile on her face, but he didn’t ask what had been so amusing in the bathroom. He figured he probably didn’t want to know.

“So… at least the music’s not bad, right?” he commented. The club had been playing mostly Top 40 hits. “I’d prefer a little more rock, but at least it’s not that techno stuff that all sounds the same.”

Claire laughed. “Yeah, the music’s okay.”

Determined to enjoy himself some more, Nick paid more attention to the music while he drank. A good half hour passed, and he nearly spit out a mouthful of beer when he could have sworn he heard the familiar strains of “Open Arms” by Journey begin to play. Swallowing quickly, he listened and quickly realized that the song was playing. He looked over at Claire, unable to keep himself from smiling. She met his eyes, her smile making hers sparkle in the dim, bluish light.

“Let’s dance,” she said, slipping off of her stool and taking both of his hands. “Come on.”

He let her pull him off of his stool and winced slightly as the foot of his prosthetic leg made contact with the ground, the bruised stump of his real leg aching as it bumped against the socket of the prosthesis. He quickly hid this from her and followed her slowly out onto the dance floor, which had thinned as the groaning hardcore clubbers took the slow song as an opportunity to grab a drink at the bar.

They made their way over to a darkened corner of the floor, and then Claire turned, drifting toward him. He put his arms around her waist, pulling her close, and her arms rose to encircle his neck. Slowly, they rocked back and forth in time to the music, gradually circling round and round. How long had it been since he had slow-danced this way? Nick wondered. Too long, he decided. Bumping and grinding was great, but nothing could beat the intimacy of dancing like this, with the woman he loved in his arms, her head nestled against his chest. He was no longer coordinated enough to manage fancy, fast dancing, but this… this he could do, no problem. Swaying back and forth, shifting his weight between both feet… that had been the first thing he’d learned to do on his prosthetic leg, between a set of parallel bars. He’d come so far since then.

“Now are you having fun?” Claire murmured, smiling up at him as they danced.

“Mm-hm,” he nodded, rocking her back and forth.

The song slowed to a close, and almost instantly, the latest Britney Spears single revved up, and the lights brightened. As herds of people migrated back to the dance floor, Nick and Claire walked hand in hand back to the bar.

“I can’t believe they played that song,” said Nick. “It seems so… out of place, compared to the stuff they’ve been playing.”

“It was perfect though, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it- Hey, wait a minute…” Claire was grinning widely, and all of a sudden, he realized. “You did this, didn’t you? You requested this song.”

Her smile grew. “Requested?” She laughed. “More like begged. That DJ did not want to play a slow song, let alone one from the 80’s. I begged, I pleaded, I even flirted, and finally I just had to tell the guy who I was with to get him to agree to play the song.”

“Tell him who you were with? You mean-?”

“Uh, yeah, I pointed you out to him… you might not want to get too drunk cause I kinda promised him you’d take a picture with him or sign something before you left.” She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. Whatever it takes, right?”

“Right,” she smiled. “And apparently the mere mention of your name is more influential than my female powers of seduction.”

He chuckled and took a swallow of his fresh glass of beer. “Aww, not with me, baby. You can seduce me anytime you want.”

Setting her glass down on the counter, Claire giggled. “I can, huh? I’ll have to remember that.”

***

“So what are you kids up to for the rest of the night?” AJ asked as he walked into the beach house and shut the door behind him. Nick and Claire exchanged glances, but AJ didn’t give them time to answer. “We’re gonna take a little walk on the beach,” he said, grabbing Mary’s hand. “See ya later.” He led his girlfriend through the house and out the sliding glass door on the other side.

As soon as they were gone, Nick snickered. “You know what that means, don’t you?” he said to Claire. “They’re going to have a little sex on the beach.”

Claire smirked. “That sounds about right. Well, I don’t know about you, but I need a shower. I reek like cigarettes and beer.”

“Yeah… I probably do too,” Nick agreed, dipping his head to sniff his shirt sleeve. The stench of smoke and alcohol clung to the fabric, and he wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, I definitely do.”

“So… who wants to go first?”

“I dunno… whaddya say we skip the shower and try out that jacuzzi?”

A slow smile spread over Claire’s face, and she raised her eyebrows. “I could go for that,” she said.

He nodded and took her hand, leading her through the house and into the master bathroom, where the marble jacuzzi awaited them. Nick sat down on the edge of the large tub and turned on the jets, filling the tub with water. Then he stood back up, wincing as he put weight on his left leg.

Claire apparently noticed this time, for a look of sympathy crossed her face, and she asked, “Is it still sore?”

“Yeah,” he admitted with a shrug. “But it’s okay. It’ll be fine once I take this stupid leg off.”

She nodded and came closer to him, sliding her arms around his waist. Rising on tiptoe, she tilted her chin up and kissed his lips gently, then backed away. Eyeing the jacuzzi, she said softly, “I think it’s ready. Are you?”

He smiled. “Whenever you are.”

“Okay,” she whispered and slowly pulled her shirt over her head, exposing a plain black bra. Taking his turn, Nick unbuttoned his own shirt and tossed it aside, then took off the wifebeater he had underneath. Then he just stood there, looking at her, and she looked back. Each seemed to be wondering who was going to make the next move. They had gotten this far before… but not much farther. Nick had a feeling she was waiting to see if he was going to freak out or not.

But he wasn’t going to. Not this time.

This time, he felt looser, more at ease, more comfortable around her. Maybe her actions that day had changed something inside him. Maybe it was just the buzz from the alcohol. But even if it was, he wasn’t too drunk to know exactly what was going on… exactly what was going to happen… exactly what he wanted to happen…

His hands drifted to the waistband of his pants, his fingers fumbling with the button. He loosened the pants and slid them down his hips, letting them drop to his ankles. He easily stepped out of them with his good leg and then lifted the artificial one to slide off the other pant leg. He discarded the pants and stood before her in nothing but his boxers. He saw her hands move to the button on her pants, and she followed his lead, unfastening the button and pulling the stretchy capris down and off, leaving her in just her bra and panties.

Nick sucked in a breath, fully aware of the fact that the next piece of clothing one of them removed would expose brand new territory, a place they had never been before. He had to admit, he was nervous – it had been well over a year since he had been in this position with a woman, and the last time he had, things had been very different. But he felt like he was ready. He wanted to be with Claire, and right then, his devotion to her overpowered his lack of confidence in himself.

“I’m, uh… I’m gonna take this off now,” he mumbled, touching his prosthesis. Somehow, he always felt the need to let her know before he took it off, as if the stump concealed inside it was something so gruesome and hideous it would scare her off if he didn’t properly warn her first.

She simply nodded wordlessly and waited while he expertly slid off the metal leg and the woolen prosthetic sock that covered his stump. While he stood balanced on his one leg, wondering who was going to be the first to expose themselves, Claire reached around to her back and unfastened the clasps on her bra. She let the satiny material loosen and the straps slide down her shoulders until the garment was all the way off. He took a moment to just gaze at her, drinking in the rich sight of a part of her body he’d never seen before. And then he knew it was his turn. Giving her a quick smirk to mask his embarrassment, he dutifully grabbed the elastic waistband of his boxers and slowly guided them down. As he did so, she did the same with her panties, and a moment later, all was revealed.

At first, he was self-conscious, but once they had both climbed into the tub and sank down into the steamy, bubbling water, those feelings faded, and he actually began to feel quite comfortable. The jets of hot water massaging his body were relaxing, and the sight of her sitting there with him, the water lapping at her shoulders, was gratifying.

“This is nice,” she sighed, leaning her head back against the tub’s rim. “This is very nice.”

“You’ve never been in the one in my bathroom at home,” he murmured.

She chuckled. “No… I definitely haven’t.”

“We’ll have to go in it sometime then when we get home,” he said lightly and leaned over to place a tender kiss on her cheek. Smiling, she turned and returned the kiss, pressing her lips against his while her arms rose out of the water and slid around his neck, sending drips of warm water running down his back. Beneath the water, his hands found the small of her back, and he pulled her closer to him, moaning softly as he felt her body press up against his.

“Nick…” she breathed. “… are you… are you ready for this?”

Letting out a shaky breath, he replied without hesitation. “Yes.”

“Here?”

He considered this for a moment and then said, “No. Can we get out?”

“Yeah,” Claire replied and sat up quickly. “Yeah, let’s get out.”

***

Nick was already sitting on the bed, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, when Claire came back into the bedroom, dressed in a huge t-shirt that he recognized as one of his own. While he was trying to remember when she’d gotten her hands on that one, she smiled sheepishly and said, “Sorry, I don’t really have any sexy lingerie to put on for you.”

He grinned. “Well, that’s a damn shame. I’ll have to fix that for next time.”

Giggling, she climbed onto the bed and wasted no time in capturing his mouth in a kiss, continuing what they had started in the jacuzzi. Her tongue slid into his mouth, and he massaged it with his, but it was not long before his body was craving more.

“Claire,” he said breathlessly, breaking the kiss, “we’ve waited long enough. I don’t think I can wait anymore.”

She smiled. “Then let’s go for it.”

She took hold of his shoulders and started to ease him down against the pillows when he said, “Wait. Do you, um… should we… use some kind of protection?”

Her eyes met his. “Are you clean?”

“Yeah… but-“

“Then it’s okay. I trust you… and you know you can trust me too.”

“But, what about-“

“It’s okay,” she said again. “Trust me.”

He didn’t fully understand, but looking deep into her eyes, he knew he could trust her. He took a breath and nodded.

“Okay.”


Love is such a sweet emotion
I want to share it all with you
Your trust and this devotion
There ain’t nothing in this world we can’t do
Tonight, I wanna thank, thank you baby
And you make my life complete

Soul to soul, fire to fire
Nothing’s like this heart’s desire
Love is a beautiful thing
One to one, you and me
Maybe it’s our destiny
Cause love is a beautiful thing

- “Love is a Beautiful Thing” by Krystal Harris


***

Chapter 10

Nick knew it was morning even before he opened his eyes. And when he did open them, he opened them slowly, hesitantly. He half-expected to be met with a killer headache just as the morning sunlight reached his eyes, but he was pleasantly surprised to find that he was not hungover, and the memory of the night before was still vividly clear in his mind.

He was glad. Last night was an experience he did not want to forget, not quite yet anyway. It had been awkward at best, certainly not his most superlative love-making experience, and yet, it had been special. Special because it was his first time with Claire and also his first time since… well, since the previous April. He felt rejuvenated, as if new life had been breathed into his lungs.

Looking over at Claire, he smiled. She was lying on her stomach, still sound asleep, her body twisted up in the sheets, her head turned away from him. He reached out and lightly stroked her bare back, wishing she would wake up. After last night, he wanted nothing more than to just be with her. The way she had touched him… the way she had loved him... she had made him feel good about himself. For the first time in over a year, he had truly felt like a real, whole man, someone who could be desired, someone who was worthy of love. And she had given him the love and shown him the acceptance he needed. If anything, he loved her more now than he did when he’d woken up beside her the previous morning.

As he thought of the morning before, he devilishly wondered how she’d like to wake up to a faceful of icy water, but quickly dismissed the idea. He wasn’t about to ruin the morning. Instead, he leaned over, planting a soft kiss on her shoulder, then leaving a trail of them down her spine. Just as he was nearing the small of her back, she flinched and came awake suddenly, rolling over to meet him face to face.

“Morning,” he said with a grin.

She quickly jerked the sheet up to cover herself and smiled sheepishly at him. “Morning,” she echoed, her voice hoarse from sleep. “How long have you been awake?”

“Just a few minutes,” he replied. “I was just about to get up and fix myself a glass of ice water…” He waggled his eyebrows, and she smirked.

“Well, good thing I woke up then, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said; he was glad she had too. “So… how ya feeling? Hungover at all?”

She scrunched her face up, thinking. “No…” she said slowly. “Actually I’m feeling pretty good. Guess we didn’t have that much to drink last night.”

“No. Last night was great.” He smiled, almost shyly, hoping she felt the same way, hoping he hadn’t disappointed her.

To his relief, she returned the smile. “Yeah… it was.” She sighed lightly and draped her arm across his bare chest, letting her hand run slowly up and down his torso and across his stomach. He reached down and caught her hand, cupping it between his two and raising it to his lips to softly kiss.

“You slobbered on it!” she giggled, snatching her hand away and exaggeratedly wiping it off on his chest.

“I did not!” he cried with indignation.

“You did too!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

He huffed and turned away from her, pretending to pout. But a few seconds later, he rolled back over and smiled. “So,” he asked, “what are we doing today?”

“I should be asking you that. What are we doing today?”

“I dunno… whatcha wanna do?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Did you plan anything for us to do in advance?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I got us booked for a few things later in the week. I thought we could just hang around here and do whatever for first few days. You know, relax and stuff.”

“So basically do what you do at home anyway – sleep and hang around on the beach?”

He grinned. “Well, when you put it like that… yeah, I guess so. But this ain’t Tampa; this beach is way more pretty, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, “it is prettier. Everything’s beautiful here.”

“I know,” he said, reaching out to take a tendril of her light red hair between his fingertips. Twirling the lock of hair around his index finger, he asked again, “So, what should we do?”

Untwisting her hair from his finger and freeing herself from his grasp, she sat up, keeping the sheet pulled tightly around her. “I don’t know about you,” she said, “but I need to call my mom. It’s a reasonable hour in Florida now, right?”

“Wait, call your mom?” he repeated, horrified. Oh, don’t even tell me she’s one of those girls that tells her mother everything… like all the details of what we did last night… He had never dated a girl like that before, but he’d heard horror stories from friends who had.

She must have noticed the appalled expression on his face, for she gave him a strange look. “Uh, yeah… today’s Mother’s Day.”

“Oh.” He stopped short. “It is?” He tried to think of the date… it was May something… the eighth maybe? He wasn’t sure, but he at least knew it was a Sunday. Let’s see… Sunday… early May… yep, sounded like Mother’s Day to him. He had completely forgotten.

“Yeah, it is,” Claire said, an amused smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I take it you didn’t remember?”

He shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time. I know I didn’t remember last year either.” Last year at this time, he’d still been struggling to learn to walk on his first prosthetic leg. Mother’s Day had been the least of concerns, especially since he had kicked his own mother out of his house and sent her packing just over a month before. He realized that meant it had been well over a year since he’d even spoken to his mother, let alone actually seen her.

Claire nodded slowly. “I guess that makes sense. You and your mom are kind of… estranged, right?”

He snorted. “That’s a nice way of putting it. Yeah, the last time I talked to her, I still had my leg, and she was trying to convince me not to let them amputate because it would ruin my career.”

She grimaced. “Wow… yeah, I can see where her priorities lie.”

“Uh-huh,” he said dryly, trying to sound casual, as if he didn’t care. He knew she could tell he did; the sympathy in her eyes said it all. But she chose to say nothing verbally, and he was glad. He didn’t want to talk about it. The less he thought about Jane, the better. He would rather just pretend he didn’t have a mother. Somehow, it was just less painful that way.

***

“Hey, Mom, it’s me,” Claire spoke into the phone. “Happy Mother’s Day!”

“Well, hi, honey!” her mother’s voice greeted her. “This is a nice surprise – I didn’t know if I’d hear from you today or not!”

Claire knew her mother didn’t mean that in a bad way, but it still made her feel sort of guilty for not being there. In all her twenty-five years, she didn’t think she’d ever not seen her mother on Mother’s Day. Even when her parents had moved from Tampa to Gainesville, Florida a few years ago, she had always made a point to drive there to visit for the day. But this year, that was obviously impossible.

“Well, of course, Mom, I wanted to at least call!” said Claire emphatically. “How’s your day going so far? Are you doing something with Kyle?”

“No, he and Amber are spending the day with her parents, but he wants us to all get together the weekend after next, when you’re back and have gotten a chance settle in. Unless you already have plans, of course.”

“No, no plans that I know of for that weekend, so that sounds good. Are we coming to your place or Kyle’s house or what?”

“We thought you both could drive up here on Saturday. You’re welcome to stay overnight, but if you’d rather just come for the day, that’s fine too. And bring Nick if you want.”

“Really?”

“Well, Amber’s coming with Kyle, of course, so there’s no reason why you shouldn’t bring your ‘significant other’ along too,” her mother said, then added quickly, “But don’t make him feel like he’s obligated too – only if he wants to.”

Claire smiled. “Well, I’ll talk to him,” she promised. “I’m sure he’d love to though.”

Maybe ‘love to’ was a stretch, but she didn’t see why he would mind. Nick had met her family before, during her bone marrow transplant, and they had seemed to get along well. She remembered how her mother had been skeptical of him at first, not sure what kind of friendship a rich and world-famous pop singer could offer her daughter. But that had quickly changed after she had met Nick, and now she practically adored him. Claire was sure it went back to the transplant and how Nick had been there for her during that ordeal, visiting her in the hospital, holding her hand when she was hurting, singing her to sleep when she was alone and afraid, and even flying all the way from New York City to Tampa on a moment’s notice when she needed him. He had proven his loyalty to her then, in her eyes and in the eyes of her mother.

“Great,” her mother said. “Well, you can call me again when you’re back in Florida and let me know. So, how’s Hawaii? Are you having a wonderful time?”

Claire smiled, thinking of the night before. “Ohh yes,” she said, “it’s so wonderful.” As she launched into a description of the house and the beach and ocean beyond, Nick popped his head around the corner and grinned at her. She smiled back and stuck out her tongue at him, giggling at the goofy face he made back. “Sorry, Mom,” she said quickly, “Nick just came in, and he’s makin’ me laugh.” Snapping her fingers at Nick, she pointed to the chair across the table from her, motioning for him to sit down. Be off in a minute, she mouthed, holding up her index finger, as she listened to her mom reminisce on her honeymoon in Hawaii.

“Well, Claire,” her mother said after a few more minutes, “we should probably get off the phone now. Long distance, you know. If I don’t talk to you again till you’re home, you and Nick enjoy the rest of your trip and have a safe flight back.”

“We will, Mom, thanks,” replied Claire. “Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye, hon.”

As Claire ended the call and set the phone down, Nick smiled across the table at her. “You guys are close, huh?” he said.

“Yeah,” Claire nodded, “we really are. Didn’t always used to be that way – we fought all the time when I was in high school… you know, typical mother/teenage daughter stuff. But things change… people grow up, stuff happens… we’re a lot closer than we used to be.” She smiled ruefully. “Something like getting cancer will do that to you, I guess, bring you closer to people, show you what’s important and who’s important.” She saw his eyes shift downward as she said this and remembered that he hadn’t been so lucky… her family had been there for her throughout everything, but his had not. He didn’t like to talk about it a lot, but she knew the basics. His own mother…

She cleared her throat and quickly added, “I’m sure it’s the same with you and the guys.” They were practically his family anyway. She had seen firsthand the way they had all watched out for him and supported him in the days, weeks, and months after the amputation of his leg. If that wasn’t love, she didn’t know what was.

His eyes rose back up to meet hers, and he smiled slightly. “Yeah,” he said, and she relaxed, feeling as if she had corrected the wrong chord she’d struck before it had a chance to resonate.

“Speaking of the guys,” she spoke up, “where’s AJ?”

“Out back with Mary,” replied Nick. “I think they’re gonna go swimming.”

“Cool. You wanna go swimming too?”

“Maybe later,” said Nick and rose from the table, grimacing as he stepped forward with his prosthetic leg.

Noticing his pained expression, she asked, “Hey, how are things down there?”

Halfway to the refrigerator, he stopped suddenly and turned quickly, his eyes flying downward to his crotch. He looked up at her, red-faced, and she realized what she’d said. Bursting out laughing, she slapped her forehead and cried, “No no no, not down there! I know for a fact that all is very well there.” She grinned widely and gave him an exaggerated wink. “I meant your leg!”

“Ohh…” He chuckled, his cheeks growing even redder. “It’s, um… fine. Getting better.”

“Liar. It still hurts; I saw you wince. You still need some TLC, don’t you?” she asked, putting on a face of motherly concern.

He smirked. “You know, around this time last year, I believe you were basically telling me to get up off my ass and stop feeling sorry for myself, not offering to give me ‘TLC’.”

She laughed and stood up. “True,” she said, as she sauntered up to him and slid her arms around his waist. “But that was before you paid my way for ten days in paradise. I owe ya.”

“Hm…” Nick murmured, “that’s right. I guess you do. Well, now’s the time to pay up, woman.”

Looking up, she saw him dip his head, his lips making a beeline for hers. She tipped back her head, turned up her chin, and let him steal a kiss. Only it wasn’t really stealing, for apparently she was just paying her dues. Fair enough, she thought, as her hands rose to run through his sun-bleached hair, and she guided his head down so that she could kiss him back.

***

Chapter 11


AN: Big thanks to Veronica, Susan, and Mary for the burst of inspiration that led to this chapter!


The view from the cruise ship was breathtaking. Looking off into the distance, it seemed as if the world had been bathed in lavender. The sun had almost sank beyond the water line, leaving a light golden aura shining around it, but above that, the sky darkened to soft, yet rich shades of mauve and violet, the low wispy clouds resembling tufts of pink and purple cotton candy set against a background of warm pastel colors. The gorgeous sunset reflected in the ocean, giving the deep, sapphire blue waters a sparkling amethyst cast.

Taking a few steps back, Claire was able to include Nick in her panoramic view. He complimented the pretty picture perfectly, as he stood gazing off into the distance, for once seeming totally oblivious to her. He leaned slightly against the side of the ship, one hand resting loosely upon the rail, the other hanging at his side. Her eyes followed it up to his broad shoulders and onward, to his face. It was hard to make out of his features, for the shadows fell over him, blackening his silhouette. Moving closer to him, she again set her eyes upon his face and smiled in admiration. He looked irresistibly sexy right then, the way the dying sunlight played off his face, giving an amber glow to his already bronzed skin. The streaks of gold in his dark blonde hair gleamed, and she longed to run her hands through the flaxen strands. And then to kiss his soft, coral lips, which were slightly parted as he stared dreamily into the sunset, appearing deep in thought, yet at peace.

She liked seeing him that way, looking relaxed and content, his smooth forehead free of the lines of worry that often creased it. Although he usually tried to hide it – for Nick was a man who tended to keep his feelings bottled up, she had learned – she knew he worried a lot. About his health… about her health… about his career… about his image… about his body… about how his body had changed… about his abilities, or how some of his abilities had been compromised… about his relationship with her… even about her feelings for him.

She wished he wouldn’t worry about that last bit. Hadn’t he realized by now that she loved him, no matter what, and that she was there to stay? Despite her attempts to show and finally even outright tell him exactly how she felt, she knew he still had doubts. It almost irritated her, the way he was so down on himself sometimes, but she understood. Celebrity or not, he was still a cancer victim and an amputee, and in society, both of those things made him physically imperfect - as if anyone is “perfect” to begin with, Claire thought with anger. And unlike her, for him there was no hiding it. Even though he could look perfectly normal on the outside, everyone knew his plight because he was in the public eye. Most of his fans had accepted and supported him, but of course some had turned their backs, unable to handle the changes that had befallen their idol. She knew how it was. Some of her friends had done the same after her initial diagnosis of leukemia. She, too, had felt the sting of rejection, and it had been a painful sting, but in the end, it had made her stronger. Stronger, and more empathetic. She knew what Nick had been going through for the past year or two, for it was similar to what she too had endured, only on a much larger scale.

And yet, when she looked at him, she didn’t see what many of those nameless fans must see. She saw not a Backstreet Boy, nor a cancer survivor, nor an amputee. It had been a year now, and when her eyes glossed over him, they did not even consider the fact that there was not a real flesh and blood limb filling his left pant leg. They saw an ordinary man who was beautiful and perfect, perfect for her. She saw Nick. Just plain old loveable Nick.

Maybe having had cancer had done that to her as well – opened her eyes further than some and allowed her to see the whole picture, his inside as well as outside. She wasn’t sure she would have accepted him so easily in the days before she got sick (nor would she have been caught dead dating a guy who was part of a boyband), but the Claire before cancer was not the same Claire as the one who stood there by his side now. The disease had changed her, just as it had changed him and probably everyone else who faced it. Many of the changes had been upsetting – it had lost her some of her friends, ruined her college plans, permanently altered her body, and stolen away the last fraction of her “childhood,” forcing her to finish growing up in as much time as it took to say the word “leukemia.” But looking back now, she felt she was a better person for having gone through with it. A person who knew what was important in life, and at the same time, knew how to live that life to the fullest. Someone who was more mature, more compassionate, and more open-minded. She knew it had done the same to him, or they probably never would have become friends and certainly would not be standing together there now, as a couple, drifting along the coastline on the Maui Princess cruise ship.

The dinner cruise had been part of the “few things” Nick had booked “for later in the week.” After their relaxing first few days on the island, the rest of the week had been busy, but unforgettable. They had flown to Oahu for a day trip to visit Pearl Harbor, which pleased Claire - how could you go to Hawaii on vacation and not see Pearl Harbor? Though she had always liked history herself, she had never seen Nick as a big history buff. He had surprised her though, by actually having some knowledge of the site. They had taken a whale-watching trip the next day, and although they had only seen dolphins, the day cruise had been fun – especially for Nick, who loved anything on the water. He had surprised her again the day when they went scuba diving. She had been unsure about scuba diving – she’d done it once in Florida, the summer after her senior year of high school, but it had been awhile since then. She was more worried about him though, wondering if he’d be able to do it. Swimming with one leg was one thing, but scuba diving was quite different. But he’d proven her wrong. Even though he hadn’t been on a dive in over two years, he was still far more experienced than her, and he had managed it just fine, except for the slight problem of maintaining balance in the water, which he’d quickly learned to compensate for.

The dive may well have been his favorite out of everything they had done together in Hawaii, but as she stood beside him now, watching the last bit of the sun dip below the horizon, she decided that this evening cruise was her absolute favorite. It was entirely romantic, and yet not too fancy or extravagant. The brochure for the cruise ship had stated the dress to be casual, although Claire had gone casual dressy, wearing the light turquoise, flowered dress she had bought with Dianna. Nick had put on a pale blue Hawaiian shirt printed with faded green palm trees – fairly tame compared to some of the shirts she’d seen around – and a loose-fitting pair of khaki cargo pants for the night. They had been served a full dinner on the deck of the ship, and now there was live music and dancing inside the cabin. AJ and Mary had ventured in there after dinner, but Claire and Nick had chosen to remain outside to watch the sunset.

Now that the sun had set, the last traces of its golden rays still lingering to light the purple sky, she reached for his hand. He looked over at her, drawn out of his thoughts, and smiled slightly. “Pretty, huh?”

“Beautiful,” she exhaled, smiling up at him. “Thank you, Nick. This whole night has been… magical.”

The corners of his lips twitched as he snickered softly. “Aw, don’t go getting all cheesy on me.”

“I’m not being cheesy!” she cried, swatting his chest… and then extending her hand further, wrapping her arm around him. “I’m serious,” she said, pulling him close to her, snuggling herself up against him. “This is so romantic.”

He grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “Well, good,” he said sincerely. “I’m glad you’re having a nice time.”

They usually didn’t do much that qualified as traditionally “romantic,” for neither of them were really the type… Nick tried and did manage to come through once in awhile – like tonight – but he was not normally particularly suave, or classy, or romantic. Which was fine with her, for she was no girly-girl, never had been, and usually didn’t go for the schmaltzy type. But once in awhile, everyone needed a little romance in their lives, and at that very moment, there was no other place she would rather be. Wrapped in Nick’s warm embrace, she wished the night would last forever. Especially since by the time the sun set the following day, she and Nick would be on a flight home.

“I wish we weren’t leaving tomorrow,” she murmured, resting her head against his chest. She could hear the soft beat of his heart and feel its steady pulse beneath her cheek, and when he spoke, his voice was amplified as it vibrated at his throat.

“Aww, I know… I think I could stay here with you forever-“ She smiled to herself, noting the words ‘with you.’ “-but we gotta get home… back to our old lives. Back to reality.”

“Yeah,” she echoed dully. “Back to work on Monday.”

“And to Gainesville on Saturday to visit your parents,” he added to the following week’s itinerary.

“Yep,” she said, smiling again. She was glad he had agreed to coming to her parents’ house for the weekend. She knew the whole “meeting the parents” thing could be awkward, but he seemed to be okay with it, and of course, technically he had met her family before. Since Gainesville was a good two hours away, they had decided to stay overnight and come back on Sunday, not wanting to spend over four hours in a car on one day if they could avoid it. Claire had to admit, she was looking forward to the visit – she hadn’t seen her parents since around her birthday in March, and it had been almost as long since she’d hung out with her older brother, Kyle. She just hoped Nick would have a decent time as well.

“Looks like we’re turning around,” observed Nick. “Time to head back to shore.”

“Mm…” she murmured, not wanting it to end.

“What do you wanna do when we get back?”

“Stay in,” she replied. “Just enjoy the house and the beach for our last night here.”

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed. After a short pause, he added, “We’ve already sort of dedicated the house… or at least our part of the house... if you know what I mean-“ She smiled, knowing exactly what he meant – “our part of the house” – their bedroom… and the bathroom… “- but we haven’t dedicated the beach yet…”

She giggled. “I think AJ and Mary already took care of that for us.” He snickered briefly and then fell silent. Pulling away to the point where she could look up and see his face, she asked, “So you wanna go play on the beach when we get back?” She raised an eyebrow suggestively, watching the sexy little smirk tug on his lips.

“I think we should. It’d be the perfect end to our trip, right?” Now it was his turn to waggle his eyebrows. “Besides, I’m still working to make up for that first time.” He smiled good-naturedly, but she quickly jumped to his defense.

“What are you talking about? It was fine,” she stressed. Okay, so it had started out being just about the most awkward sex of her life, second only to her first time ever. But once they had worked out the areas that had proved slightly problematic, such as the matter of positioning, he hadn’t left her disappointed. And the times since had gone much better. He had nothing to make up for, and she hoped he knew that. Some of his insecurities had been buried after that first night, but they still surfaced from time to time, and she figured it would probably be that way for him for a long time

She wrapped her arms around him again and pulled him into a tight hug, lightly rubbing his back as she held him. “I love you, you know that?” she murmured.

“I know,” she heard him say and felt his hands slip around her as well. “I love you too.”

***

These words were repeated hours later, as they lay together in the sand, nestled in a spot a ways down the beach from their rented house that they had “dedicated” as theirs. The candles they had brought with them had extinguished, and they had made no move to relight them, enjoying the darkness and unwilling to leave each other’s warm embrace for even a minute.

“So,” Nick’s voice cut through the night, soft and husky, “you ever done it on a beach before?”

Claire smiled in the darkness. “Once,” she answered, giggling at the memory. “Senior prom… there was an after-party hosted by one of the rich kids in our class; he had a house on the bay. Yeah, I think there was a lot of sex on the beach that night.” She paused while he snickered and then turned the question back to him. “So, how about you?”

“Yeah, I have,” he replied with a chuckle, “… but never in Hawaii.”

“Well, whaddya know,” Claire said with a smile, “I guess we just lost our Hawaii beach sex virginity to each other then.”

“Guess we did,” agreed Nick, and she could hear the smile in his voice. She felt his hands on her back, lightly caressing her skin. It felt so good. She nuzzled closer to him, pressing herself up against his bare chest and tilting her chin up to tenderly kiss his neck. He answered by dipping his head to meet her lips, capturing her mouth with his. As they kissed slowly, passionately, he pulled her closer and drew the large beach towel that half-covered them tighter around their bodies.

“I’m so glad we came here,” he whispered.

She didn’t know if ‘here’ meant this part of the beach, on this particular night, or Hawaii in general. She figured maybe it was a little of both. “I am too,” she replied genuinely. “It’s been good for us.”

“Yeah,” he said, and again, she could tell without even looking at him that he was smiling. “I love you, Claire.”

Her heart swelled; she never tired of hearing those words. Not since the first time she’d heard him say them – in the hospital the previous December, before the very risky surgery to remove the part of his lung that cancer had attacked. The memory of that horrible night was enough to bring her to tears if she thought long enough about it, and she didn’t want to do that. Tracing a finger along the slightly-raised scar that wrapped around his left side from back to front, she stopped at his chest and rested her hand there, content to feel it steadily move up and down with each breath of life he took.

Bringing her thoughts back to the beach in Maui on which they lay – far, far away from that gloomy hospital room in Tampa where she’d faced the prospect of losing her love and her best friend – Claire repeated the same words she’d said back then. “I love you too.”


In the still of the night
I held you, held you tight
Cause I love, love you so
Promise I’ll never let you go
In the still of the night

I remember that night in May
Those stars were bright above
I’ll hope, and I’ll pray
To keep your precious love

So before the light
Hold me again with all of your might
In the still of the night

- “In the Still of the Night” by The Five Satins


***

Chapter 12

The following night, Nick, Claire, AJ, and Mary sat at the airport in Kahului, waiting for their flights to be called. AJ and Mary’s plane was scheduled to depart at 9:00, Nick and Claire’s fifteen minutes later.

“United Airlines Flight 38, Kahului to Los Angeles, now boarding,” an announcement echoed through the crowded gate.

AJ and Mary rose from their seats. “That’s us,” said AJ. Nick and Claire stood up too. AJ immediately reached for Claire, pulling her into a big bear hug. “Have a safe flight,” he rasped into her ear. “And take care of Nicky for me when ya get back.”

She smiled. “You know I will. You have a safe flight too.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Well, I better say bye to Nick quick so we can board and you guys can get down to your gate in time. It was good to see you again, Claire.”

“You too, AJ,” she replied and pulled away to talk to Mary while Nick and AJ said goodbye.

“It was nice to meet you,” Mary said, giving her a friendly hug. “Maybe you and Nick can come visit us in LA sometime.”

“That would be fun,” Claire nodded, smiling. “Well, take care.”

The two women parted as their boyfriends hugged, slapping each other on the back. Claire couldn’t help but smile as she watched the two men. They tried to act so casual and macho about the whole thing, but it was obvious how much they cared about each other. She knew that even though the guys could drive each other crazy when they were together for long periods of time, Nick missed them when they were not around. And watching AJ now, she could tell the feeling was mutual.

“Well, see ya around, Kaos,” AJ was saying, letting Nick go.

“Later, J,” Nick smiled and stepped back, taking Claire’s hand. AJ reached for Mary, and the two of them turned to head toward their plane, while Nick and Claire walked in the opposite direction, looking for the gate from which their own flight would depart.

“We better hurry,” Claire said, checking her watch. “Don’t wanna miss the boarding call.” She felt bad for making him rush, but they were cutting it close as it was, and the last thing she wanted to do was miss their flight and have to wait for a later one.

Luckily, they made it to their gate in time, and before long, they were seated on the plane. Nick had let Claire have the window seat, and she gazed out the small circular window as the plane rolled up the runway, gaining speed.

“Well, this is it,” she murmured, as the plane got ready to take off. “Bye-bye, Hawaii.”

Nick said nothing, and when she turned her head to look at him, she was surprised to see him sitting stock-still, his back flattened against his seat, his hands gripping the arm rests so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

“Are you okay??” she asked, alarmed by his appearance.

“I… hate… flying,” he hissed through clenched teeth. She cocked her head at him in disbelief and then burst out laughing. He gave her a cold look, but above his hardened eyes and furrowed brows, a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. The boy was actually perspiring!

“Wow, I knew you didn’t like flying much, but I’ve never seen you like this,” she commented, staring at him. “You were fine when we took off in Tampa!”

“It’s the water,” he said weakly. “I hate flying over water… especially oceans…”

She snickered, while he continued to look thoroughly unamused and annoyed with her for laughing. “You’d think you’d be used to it by now,” she said. “Don’t you guys fly all the time, when you tour and stuff?”

“Yeah, which only increases my odds of dying in a plane crash!” he exclaimed in a heated whisper.

She shook her head. “Good lord, Nick… if God wanted to kill you, He’d have done it six months ago. You’re not going to die in a freaking plane crash,” she said, her logic mixed with exasperation. “Just sit back, relax, and enjoy it, okay?”

“Easier said than done,” he said, offering her a grim smile.

She returned the smile with confidence and placed her hand over his, which was still clutching the arm rest. She gave it a single pat and then wove her fingers through his, joining their hands. The plane began to shake as it left the ground, and she squeezed his hand, still slightly amused that a seasoned flyer would be this freaked out during a takeoff, but wanting to comfort him nevertheless. With her free hand, she reached into her purse and rummaged through it until she felt what she was looking for – a pack of gum. She pulled it out and offered it to him. “Gum?” she asked. “To help your ears pop?”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking a stick.

She clumsily got another stick for herself with her one hand, not taking the other off of his, and dropped the rest of the pack into her purse. She chewed the gum rapidly and looked out the window again, watching the buildings below grow smaller and smaller as they gained elevation. Contrary to Nick, her favorite parts of a flight were the takeoff and the landing, seeing the ground fade and reappear right before her eyes as the plane rose above and dipped below the clouds. Now she alternated between gazing out the window and checking on Nick. Now that they were off the ground, he had seemed to relax a bit… maybe it was just the actual taking off that freaked him out so much. She figured he’d be all right once they stopped ascending, especially once they were over the mainland again… not that you could really tell once you were above the clouds.

She was right.

After another ten minutes, he seemed perfectly fine, and she was relieved. For a minute there, she was worried he was going to toss his cookies into one of the little barf bags peeking out of the pouch on the back of the seat in front of him. That would sure make for an interesting story – Nick Carter puking in the first class section of an airplane.

A thought hit her, and she giggled out loud before she could stop herself.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him look over at her. “What are you laughing at?” he asked, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Have you ever gotten airsick?” she asked, turning to him. “I mean, in recent years?”

She could practically see him thinking. “No…” he said slowly. “Not that I remember. Why?”

“I was just thinking…” She lowered her voice, not wanting to be overheard by other passengers, and continued, “If you puked on a plane, do you think the flight attendant who took your barf bag to throw away would keep it… to try to sell on Ebay or something?” She could barely get through the end of the sentence before she cracked up again, imagining the heading on the Ebay auction page. Airplane Vomit Bag Used By Backstreet Boy By Nick Carter… Not-So-Mint Condition

Nick wrinkled his nose, looking thoroughly disgusted at the mere idea. “Oh sick, Claire! You are so gross!”

“I’m serious!” she giggled. “Some of your fans are obsessive freaks, aren’t they? It could happen!”

He snorted and shook his head. “That the way to win ‘em over, Claire, call them ‘obsessive freaks.’ If they find that out, they’re never going to accept you as my girlfriend.”

“And why do I care?” she replied. “I didn’t know I had to ‘win them over.’ They can hate me all they want; I’ve won you over, and that’s all that matters to me.”

He smiled, noticeably pleased by that last part. “I’m just kidding,” he said. “You were pretty much doomed from the get go, so it’s not like it really makes a difference what you say about them.”

“Doomed from the get go?” she repeated, laughing. “What does that mean?”

“It means any girlfriend of mine is usually hated by most of them, at least the teenyboppers. Doesn’t matter who you are, what you look like, or how nice you are, to me or to them.”

She snickered a little. “Well, gee, that’s a nice thought. So they’re going to hate me as much as they probably hated that Leah hooker you were with – the stripper? Or Willa Ford?”

“Ooh, they really hated Mandy,” he said, his eyes lighting up maliciously. “But yeah, they probably already do hate you, sweetheart. No offense.”

“None taken,” she replied and went on quickly, slightly perplexed, “But what do you mean, ‘they probably already do hate me’? Do people… do they know who I am? I mean, we haven’t-“

He shook his head at her in a way that suddenly made her feel like a child. “Claire… I don’t know this for a fact, but I’d be willing to bet there’s pictures of us online… probably lots of them, from the last few months. Small, blurry, taken at a distance… but they’re out there. They’ve gotta be. In this business, you can’t really hide… people spot you places, and they recognize you, and they take pictures. You don’t always notice them, but they’re there. And when one of us is seen with a woman, especially a woman they don’t recognize, it spreads pretty quickly, and they all start to speculate. I don’t go look at internet sites about us anymore, but I used to once in awhile when I was younger, just to see what was out there… and it really annoyed me. I love our fans, but… man, some of them can be vicious. I remember Mandy used to cry over the hate sites about her that sprung up… that was when I decided it was best to just avoid all that shit.”

Okay, so maybe she was naïve. The way he was talking about his fans, it made them sound like the freaking CIA or something, always spying on him, secretly tracking him and the other four guys. She had always thought of Backstreet Boys fans as teenyboppers – obsessive, maybe slightly crazy, but mostly harmless little girls (and the occasional middle-aged housewife). But after hearing that, she wasn’t so sure. The thought of these little girls lurking around corners and behind bushes, waiting to snap pictures of her with Nick so that they could post them online, along with hateful messages, was unnerving.

There must have been a look on her face, and Nick must have noticed it, for he went on quickly, “I’m not trying to scare you or anything. That’s just kind of how it is. I don’t think they really mean anything bad by it… they’re just trying to look out for me.” He shrugged. “In their eyes, every other woman I date is evil and will only hurt me, and of course they are the ones who will treat me right.”

Claire tapped her chin with her finger, making a big show out of pondering this for a moment. Then she replied, “Well, I gotta say, they do have a point… you are not known for dating nice girls with no evil intentions and ulterior motives. Except me, of course.” She smirked. “No offense.”

His eyes narrowed, but he smirked back. “‘No offense,’” he mocked in a high-pitched voice. “You’re a smartass.”

She smiled. “I’d call ya a dumbass, but if one of your little devotees heard, they’d probably say I was verbally abusing you or something,” she scoffed, and then quickly looked around, as if she were expecting to see some twelve-year-old in a Backstreet Boys t-shirt holding out a tape recorder to catch whatever she could of their conversation for proof of the “abuse.” How sad, she thought. Am I going to be paranoid for the rest of my life because of this conversation?

She certainly hoped not, but all of a sudden, she could understand why most celebrity relationships didn’t seem to work out. Was it being in the public eye, constantly under the spotlight, that was the problem?

It doesn’t matter, she told herself. If being with Nick meant putting up with crap from the fans, then she’d do it. She would do anything for him. Because when it was all said and done, she loved him, and that was what mattered.

***


AN: Now let’s not hate Claire for “her” comments about us Bsb fans, okay? Hehe, I’m just kidding… But you gotta admit, some of the Bsb fans are pretty crazy, maybe even a little creepy at times (anyone read Mare’s “Beautiful Girl”?). None of YOU, of course… I think I pretty much scared off any boppers with the first story LOL. But you know what I mean. ;)

Chapter 13

It was almost six o’clock on Saturday evening when Nick and Claire were finally pulling away from the airport in Tampa, and to Nick, it felt even later. He hadn’t slept well at all on the flight – he rarely could – and was exhausted. Claire didn’t look like she had fared much better. The drive through the city was quiet; after eighteen hours of flying together, they were all talk-ed out.

When he pulled up in front of her apartment building, he stopped the SUV and turned off the engine. Opening his door, he slid out and walked stiffly around to the back. Opening up the hatchback trunk, he hauled out her suitcase. “You need help carrying this up?” he asked, as she came around, her purse and duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

“Nah, I can get it,” she replied.

“You sure?”

“Positive. C’mere.” Letting her bags slide off her shoulder and fall to the ground, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. “Thanks for a wonderful vacation,” she whispered into his ear, her fingers lightly massaging his neck, which was stiff and aching from hours in awkward positions on the plane while he tried to sleep.

“It wouldn’t have been the same without you,” he replied, rubbing her back. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Maybe. I might still be unpacking though… and cleaning… and getting groceries for the week. All that good stuff.”

“Call me. We can get groceries together,” he offered. He hated grocery shopping.

“Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow then.” She pulled back, stopping to kiss him on the cheek, and then bent to pick up her bags.

“I love you,” he said suddenly, as she rose back up, pushing the straps of her purse and duffel higher onto her shoulder.

She smiled. “I love you too,” she echoed. “’Night, Nick.”

He waited outside the car until she had made it inside the building, and then he slowly walked back around to the driver’s side and climbed in. The drive back to his own house felt strange, even lonely. After a whole week of having Claire at his side nearly 24/7, being alone suddenly seemed odd. And it felt even odder when he slid beneath the covers of his own bed later that night and lay there, all by himself, with no one there to steal the blankets and kick him under the covers as she rolled and thrashed around in her sleep.

He was exhausted, and yet, he lay awake for a long time, contemplating this. “I miss her,” he whispered through the darkness, knowing there was no one there to hear his thoughts. “It’s only been a few hours since I dropped her off, and I already miss her.”

Normally, after a whole week with someone, he was glad to be rid of them. But not her. Somehow, their week together in paradise had just left him longing for more, wishing he could be with her all the time.

As he thought about this, the obvious answer came to him. It was time for her to move in with him. Then they could live together, and be with each other as much as possible. Her face could be the last thing he saw when he went to sleep at night, and the first thing he saw when he woke up beside her in the morning.

He smiled through the darkness. That was it. He was finally ready for the next step in their relationship. Now all he had to do was make sure she was too.

***

By the time Monday morning rolled around, Claire was ready to go back to work. She was practically bombarded by her co-workers the minute she set foot in the office, all swarming around her, welcoming her back and asking about her vacation. She filled the other hygienists in on the very basics of the trip as she walked back to her exam room to stow away her purse.

“… and don’t you love the killer tan I got?” she joked, holding out her arms, which were just as white as always. She hadn’t even gotten a good sunburn.

Laughing, the other hygienists slowly dispersed, heading off to straighten up their own exam rooms before the first patients of the day started arriving. Claire set her purse on the counter in the back of the room and pulled out a small picture frame, which she set on one of the shelves extending from the narrow desk in the corner. Each of the hygienists that worked in Dr. Somers’ office had their own exam room to work in, and they all were allowed to personalize their rooms with pictures and other knick-knacks. Claire’s eyes scanned briefly over the other pictures that decorated the desk. There was an old one of her with a group of friends at their high school graduation – she was in the middle, her arms around Dianna and Jamie, who, coincidentally, were the only two people from high school with whom she was still close. Beside it was one of her with her brother, taken at his wedding, at which she’d been a bridesmaid. The picture had turned out cute, even though she hated how she looked in it. Kyle’s wife Amber had picked light pink for her wedding theme, and so all of the bridesmaid gowns had been light pink – a color Claire despised and also looked horrible in, with her fair skin which looked even more washed out against the pastel pink and her red hair which just plain clashed. The next picture was more recent – one of her and a cluster of colleagues at an office picnic they’d had the previous summer. This had been during her fling with Tim, and she had considered taking the picture home after they had broken up, for she was holding his hand in the photo, but, not wanting to hurt his feelings, she’d left it there. She liked the new picture much better though. Her eyes shifted to it now, and she smiled. It was a picture of her and Nick, fresh from a roll of film she’d gotten developed just the day before, taken on the cruise their very last night in Hawaii. They were standing against the railing at the side of the ship, arms around each other, the sun just beginning to set behind them. They both looked radiant, just the way she’d felt in the moment when the picture had been snapped.

“Hey, Claire.”

The deep voice brought her out of her thoughts, and she quickly looked away from the picture, her eyes flying to the doorway, where Tim Pantero leaned casually.

“Good morning,” she smiled.

“Good to see ya,” he said with a quick smile back, peering at her over the top of his glasses. “How was your vacation?”

“Really nice,” she replied.

“No food poisoning this time, I hope?” He smirked, and she shook her head, remembering the nightmare trip to Hawaii they’d taken together the previous fall.

“Nope, I stayed away from the seafood this time,” she chuckled good-naturedly.

“Good to hear,” he smiled. “Well, I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing; I just wanted to say hey.”

She smiled back and nodded, as he walked on down the hall. Tim was a good guy, she had decided. The perfect ex. The rare type that was able to be “just friends” after a break-up. She wasn’t sure she would really call Tim her “friend,” for they never did anything together anymore, outside of work, but at least he was able to smile and joke around with her, instead of avoiding her like the plague. Awkwardness between the two of them would have made work miserable, and she was glad he had realized that too.

A short knock attracted her attention back to the door, and she turned, expecting to see Tim there again. Instead, it was Dr. Somers, the other dentist that worked in the office. He was somewhat of an old family friend – he knew her father anyway – and it was he who had given her this job three years ago.

She smiled. “Morning, Dr. Somers.”

“Good morning, Claire,” the aging dentist replied with a warm smile. “Welcome back. Did you have a nice vacation?”

“Yeah, it was a blast, really nice,” she answered.

“Well, I know it’s your first day back, but I was wondering if you could do me a favor?”

“Sure,” said Claire. “What is it?”

“I think I told you before you left that we were hiring a new hygienist?” Dr. Somers asked, raising his eyebrows in question. Claire nodded, remembering him mentioning it. “Well, the new hygienist is coming in today,” continued Dr. Somers, “just to observe before she starts her training later in the week. I was wondering if you could take her under your wing for the day, kind of show her the ropes and let her shadow you?”

“Oh, sure,” Claire replied. “What time is she coming in?”

“Should be here any minute; I told her to come around seven. Her name’s Laureen, Laureen Bincs.”

Claire nodded, repeating the name in her head a few times before she set back to work, pulling up her list of appointments for the day on the computer in the corner of the room. She was just setting up for her first patient when she was interrupted by another knock on the door frame. This time, she looked up to see an unfamiliar face, the face of a young woman who appeared to be in her early twenties. She was about the same height as Claire, fairly average, although a little on the short side, and had auburn hair.

“Hi… are you Claire?” the girl asked uncertainly, her hazel eyes questioning.

“Sure am. And you must be Laureen?” Claire replied.

The girl nodded. “Laureen Bincs,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Claire Ryan,” Claire introduced herself, and they shook hands. “Welcome to the office,” Claire said with a smile.

Laureen returned the smile, looking relieved. “Thanks,” she replied. “So, I’m supposed to observe you today?”

“Yep,” said Claire. “We’ll be in here most of the day – this is ‘my’ exam room; we each have our own to see patients in. These rooms are mostly just used for regular dental checks and cleaning; the rooms in the back of the office are the ones for the major procedures, like cavity filling and root canals and all that. I can find out if we have any of those coming in today, and maybe I can get you back there to observe later. But for this morning, it’s just going to be the boring stuff. The first patient I’ve got scheduled for today is a seven-year-old girl, just coming in for her six-month visit. I’m setting up for her right now.” She paused, then asked, “So is this your first hygienist job?”

“Yeah,” Laureen said with a nervous smile. “I’m fresh out of college; just finished classes and got my associate’s degree a couple of weeks ago.”

“Ahh, cool, congratulations,” said Claire sincerely, remembering when she had been in Laureen’s place, coming to work for Dr. Somers right after her last semester of college. “Well, looks like I get to show you everything then, huh?”

She started by showing Laureen how to set up for patients, taking her through how to adjust the dentist’s chair and assemble the right equipment on the tray beside the chair. Then it was just a matter of waiting. Claire perched on a stool in the back of the room while Laureen wandered, looking around the room. She stopped at the computer desk and bent down to look at Claire’s pictures. “High school or college?” she asked, holding up the graduation picture.

“High school,” replied Claire.

“Cool. What class were you?”

“Class of ’98. How about you?”

“’03,” said Laureen, looking at the other pictures. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the newest addition, the picture of Claire and Nick, held within a small frame decorated with seashells. “Is this your boyfriend?” she asked, carefully picking up the frame to look more closely at the photograph.

“Yes,” Claire said, smiling as she watched Laureen. She could almost see the recognition slowly dawning on the younger woman’s face and was not at all surprised when Laureen added, “You know who he looks like?”

“Who?” Claire asked innocently, her smirk oblivious to Laureen.

Laureen giggled. “Well… he looks kinda like Nick Carter. You know, the Backstreet Boy?” Claire tried to keep a straight face, but she could feel her smirk growing into an even broader smile. Laureen glanced over at her before she could sober herself, and at once, it all clicked. “Oh my God… that’s not-… is it??”

Claire laughed. “It is,” she admitted.

Laureen’s jaw dropped in cartoon fashion. “You’re dating Nick Carter?” she asked in disbelief, her voice hushed, as if she knew how saying his name too loud could cause pandemonium in the right situation.

“Yeah…” Claire said carefully, watching Laureen’s face for her reaction. “Are you a fan?” Sad as it was, after that conversation with Nick on the plane, she was slightly wary of his fans.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Laureen admitted, her cheeks growing pink. “I’ve liked the Backstreet Boys since I was just a kid.” She paused, then added quickly, almost defensively, “But I’m not some teenybopper! Just so you know…”

Claire laughed. “No, I didn’t think you were… I was just wondering,” she said with a reassuring smile.

“So… if you don’t mind me asking, how did you meet Nick?”

“Um… long story,” Claire said with a chuckle. “Real long story…”

“Really?” Laureen laughed. “How long have you been dating him? I didn’t know he was seeing anybody.”

“We’ve been good friends for a couple of years, but we’ve only been ‘together’ since New Year’s… so going on five months now. We’ve kept a pretty low profile though… which is fine with me; I’d prefer to just stay out of the limelight,” said Claire.

Laureen nodded. “I understand. So, uh… does he ever drop by the office?” She winked and smiled so adorably Claire couldn’t help but smile back; it was infectious.

“Not usually… but he has before.” She was thinking of April Fool’s Day. Before then, she’d kept quiet about Nick around the office – only the people she was close to knew she was even friends with him, let alone dating him. But after the stunt he’d pulled that day, it was no big secret that she and Nick Carter were an item – by April 2nd, everyone knew. Most people had been happy for her and hadn’t given her too much crap for keeping it mostly to herself, although they teased her good-naturedly every chance they got about her “Backstreet Boy Toy.”

The Nick conversation was cut short by Carey, the receptionist who was working in the office that morning. “Claire, sorry to interrupt, but your patient just got here – Ashley Jones?”

“Oh, thanks, Carey,” said Claire. Turning to Laureen, she added, “Just follow me, and we’ll get started.”

***

Chapter 14

Claire was just finishing up with her last patient of the morning when Carey stuck her head in again. “Claire? When you finish up in here, there’s someone waiting for you out in the waiting room.”

“What? But my next patient isn’t supposed to get here till 1:30 – it’s only noon!”

Carey grinned. “Oh, it’s not a patient…”

The look on her face gave it away, but Claire had to see for herself. She turned to her patient and said, “Dr. Pantero will be in to see you in a few minutes.” Then she walked out of the room, beckoning Laureen to follow her. “Laureen, could you go find Dr. Pantero and tell him the patient in 3 is ready to be seen. Then come out to the waiting room.”

“Sure,” Laureen nodded and walked in one direction down the hall, while Claire walked in the other, following Carey up to the front of the office. Carey hung a left, heading back to the receptionist’s cubicle, but Claire went straight, flinging open the door to the waiting room.

She saw him instantly. He was hard to miss, standing there awkwardly in the center of the room. He looked up when she opened the door and broke into a smile that melted her heart when he saw her.

“Hey, there you are,” he grinned.

“Nick!” She fought the urge to throw her arms around him, reminding herself that she was at work, and instead grabbed his hand and tugged him out of the waiting room and into the hall. “What are you doing here?” she asked as soon as the door had swung closed, delighted that he had surprised her by showing up.

“I was hoping we could have lunch together,” Nick said. “Do you get to take your break soon?”

“Yep, right now,” she replied. “You have perfect timing.”

He grinned again, obviously pleased with himself. He opened his mouth to say something else, but then stopped, his eyes darkening as he looked at something over her shoulder. She heard footsteps coming up the hall and turned to see Tim heading toward her room, Laureen walking behind him. Tim stopped when he saw her and Nick, hesitated, and then continued on into her room to examine the patient she’d just left. Laureen hung back, and Claire could see her staring at Nick; she’d just recognized him.

“Hey, Laureen, c’mere,” she spoke up, motioning the younger girl over. “Nick, I want you to meet Laureen. She’s starting here new next week and is here observing for the day. Laureen, Nick.”

“Nice meeting you,” Nick said kindly, holding out his hand to her.

Laureen took it, her eyes shining. “Nice meeting you too,” she said with a grin.

“We’re headed to lunch now,” said Claire, “so you can take your lunch break too. Just be back before 1:30.”

“Okay,” Laureen nodded.

Claire looked up at Nick. “I’m going to go get my purse and clock out. Just wait here for me.” She left him long enough to duck back into her room, where Tim was hovered over her patient. He did not look up when she came in, either so engrossed with his work that he did not notice her or ignoring her on purpose. She didn’t really care. She grabbed her purse and hurried out of the room, stopping to punch the clock in the front of the office, and then met up with Nick again. “Let’s go,” she smiled at him, taking his hand, and together, they walked out of the office.

“Ooh, you brought the Jag!” she exclaimed gleefully when she saw his silver beauty of a car gleaming in the parking lot.

“Yep,” he replied with a grin. “You wanna drive?” He held up his keys, jangling them between his thumb and forefinger.

She snatched them eagerly before he could pull them away from her. “You bet I do!”

***

“So where to?” Claire asked as she guided the Jag onto the highway.

“Where’s our favorite place?” Nick shot back from the passenger seat, grinning. “I was thinking we could go there, if you want to…”

“’Course,” she said, knowing exactly the place he meant. “You know I’m always in the mood for pizza.”

Ten minutes later, they were pulling into the parking lot of Leonardi’s, the little pizza parlor that had become “their place.” It was a place that held a lot of history for Claire. It had been around since her mother, who had also grown up in Tampa, had been a child, and during Claire’s childhood, her family had gone there to eat every Friday night – it was tradition. In high school, it had served as a hangout for her and her friends, as well as a good place to get a summer job. She’d never worked there herself, but Dianna had, two summers in a row, and Claire had fond memories of many nights spent tucked in a booth with Jamie, sipping milkshakes while Dianna pretended to wipe down their table so that she could chat with them for a few minutes.

But now when she came here, she thought mostly of Nick. It was she who had introduced him to the place, and she remembered being nervous the first time she’d met him there, afraid he would find it appalling and wondering if she should have picked somewhere more… classy. But the great thing about Nick was that he was not the arrogant snob she’d expected him to be the first time she met him. He really was just a normal guy, a normal guy who also happened to be a rich and famous popstar. He had seen the charm of the shabby little pizza place, and it had become their favorite spot to eat.

When they walked inside the restaurant, they requested their favorite booth, the wrap-around one in the back corner. Within a few minutes, they were sitting there, hardly glancing at the menus that had been placed in front of them. They ordered the same thing every time they came – sausage and pepperoni, extra cheese.

“So, how’s your day been so far?” Nick asked, as they sat waiting for someone to take their order.

“Oh, pretty good… same old, same old,” replied Claire. “How about you? Been up to anything?”

“Not really. Just hanging out around the house,” he said.

She nodded. “Have you finished unpacking yet?”

“Eh…” He shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “I’m workin’ on it.”

She laughed. She had been over at his place the day before, after getting groceries with him, and found his bedroom to be in a state of disarray, clothes foaming out of the two suitcases he’d brought to Hawaii, not to mention scattered all across the floor, as if he’d been marking a trail with them or something. He was almost as bad as Dianna, who had a bad habit of yanking all of the clothes she owned out of her closet in search of something to wear and leaving them haphazardly thrown all over the floor. Claire had mastered the art of finding bare spots of carpet to step on when she navigated her way through her best friend’s bedroom.

“Well, what about you?” Nick shot back. “Have you unpacked?”

“Of course,” answered Claire matter-of-factly. “The last thing I wanted to do was come home from work this afternoon and still have that to do. I did it yesterday morning, before we went grocery shopping.”

“Oh,” he said simply, and shut his mouth. A waitress came up to them then, and once they had ordered their pizza, Nick said, “Hey, I have something for you.”

Claire watched in astonishment as he reached into the pocket of his baggy jeans and produced a small, gift-wrapped box. Wondering how he had managed to stuff that in his pants without her noticing, she laughed and said, “A present? Wasn’t Hawaii enough?”

“Nothing could ever be enough for you,” he replied, batting his eyelashes sweetly at her as he handed her the gift.

She snorted. “Oh puh-lease.”

“Open it,” he urged her, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. Thoroughly mystified, she obediently tugged at the lopsided bow he had obviously tied himself, and took her time folding up the ribbon, much to his annoyance. “Oh come on, just open it!” he insisted, his voice filled with impatience. Laughing, she tore into the brightly-colored wrapping paper and let it fall away to reveal a small box covered in burgundy velvet… like a jewelry box…

Her heart leapt into her throat and started hammering so fast she was sure it would pop right out as her mouth fell open in shock. No way, she thought, staring dazedly at the box. This couldn’t be… he’s not going to…

She lifted her head slowly, raising her eyes to meet his. “Nick…” she murmured.

“Open it!” he repeated more emphatically than ever, prodding the box in her hand. She was still so stunned, she almost dropped it. Regaining her hold on it, she reached out with trembling fingers, her heart still racing, and pried open the lid. The box opened with a soft pop, and she peered inside to find…

A key.

She let her breath out in a soft whoosh, her shoulders slumping, almost in relief. A key… it was just a key.

A key to what?

She plucked the key out of the satin-lined interior of the box and held it up, inspecting it. Her first thought was that it went to a car, but a closer look told her it was not a car key. It was not nearly long enough.

“Nick…” she said again. “What is this for?”

In that very instant, she was slightly afraid he was going to reply, “A key to my heart,” or something equally cheesy, in which case she probably would have had to smack him, because, come on, he knew better than that.

But instead, he answered, “It’s a house key. It’s a key to my house.” She waited, and he cleared his throat and went on, “Um… we’ve been dating for, what, like almost five months now? So I thought maybe you should move in with me.”

“Move in with you,” she repeated, looking back down at the silver key in her hand. She pursed her lips and thought for a moment.

“You don’t want to?” he asked, sounding slightly hurt. She looked back up at him to find his forehead creased, a puzzled expression on his face. She sighed.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, Nick… I just need to think about it. I mean, it’s a big decision.”

“Why is it such a big decision?” he asked, frowning. “You love me, right? And you hang out at my house all the time… you’ve even slept there! And we lived together in Hawaii for a week, and that was great, wasn’t it? So why wouldn’t you want to?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to,” she repeated, more sharply than she had intended. “I just… well, it is a big decision, Nick! You’re asking me to move out of my apartment, which has been my home for the last three years, and haul all my crap to your place… that in itself is a big thing. And then-“

“Well, you wouldn’t have to haul it; I’d pay someone to do that!” he interrupted.

She shook her head impatiently. He didn’t understand. “It’s not that, Nick,” she said. “It’s just… it’s just the whole idea of it… I’d be losing my home to move into yours, and what if… well, what if we broke up? Then what? Then I’d have to move out again and look for a new place, and it would be really awkward, and-“

“Who says we’re gonna break up?” Nick interrupted again, his voice full of defiance. “I love you, Claire. I don’t want to break up – do you??”

“Of course not!” she cried in exasperation, throwing up her hands. “Jeez, Nick, it’s like you’re missing the whole point of what I’m trying to say! I didn’t say we were going to break up, or that I want to break up, but let’s be realistic here – it could happen someday. Right?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged, staring at the tabletop.

“Well, that’s just it, no one knows. We don’t know how long we’re going to last, Nick… we don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. All I know is that I don’t want to move in with you, only to have to move out again in a few months if something happens between us.”

“But nothing’s gonna happen between us… we love each other, don’t we?” He looked up at her, his eyes pleading, as if she were in the middle of breaking up with him right then and there.

She felt like screaming, but instead she said calmly, “Yes, of course we do. But all I’m trying to say is that we don’t know if it’s going to last… you thought you loved Leah too, didn’t you?”

His face darkened. “Don’t bring her up; that’s a totally different story.”

“Not really!” Claire insisted. “You were even going to marry her, and look what happened!”

“Well, good God, you’re not like her!”

“Again, Nick, you’re missing the point. No, I’m not like her, but that just shows how fast a relationship can fall apart. Come on, you’ve had more relationships than me; you know how it is! When I was eighteen, I thought I was going to marry Jamie Turner, and obviously that didn’t happen. Not because either of us were evil, horrible people like that hooker Leah, but because… well, we just didn’t work as a couple. And we dated for over a year before we found that out. So all I’m saying, Nick, is that you never know what’s going to happen, and I don’t know if I’m ready to move in with you. Do you understand that?”

He shrugged, and she thought she might have seen his head bob, but if so, it was so slight that it was hardly noticeable. She rolled her eyes. Why was he giving her such a hard time about this? Her patience was rapidly wearing thin. “Okay, so you don’t understand,” she snapped. “Why would you? You’re used to have women falling at your feet all the time, and I’m sure all your old girlfriends-“

“That’s not true!” he argued, his eyes flashing with anger. “You’re all I’ve got, Claire! Women don’t ‘fall at my feet,’ at least not anymore! I don’t even have two fucking feet to fall at!”

“Oh no, you are not going to do that!” she fired back instantly. “Don’t you dare try to throw yourself a little pity party here and make me feel bad for you because that is not going to happen! I don’t pity you, Nick, and you’re not going to get me to agree to move in with you because I feel sorry for you. You can feel sorry for yourself all you want, but I’m not going to.”

His nostrils flared, and he took a few audible breaths. Then… “Fine,” he growled in a low voice. “Then I hope you don’t expect me to feel sorry for you when I leave you here. Enjoy your pizza.” With that, he slid out of the booth and stalked off across the restaurant.

Is he really leaving? she wondered, watching him carefully. Is he really going to just drive away and leave me stranded here?

Part of her suspected he was just bluffing, but who knew? She considered jumping up and going after him, knowing she could easily beat him to his car – it wasn’t like he could run. But why give him the satisfaction? She didn’t want to get in a car with him anyway; she’d seen firsthand how he drove when he was angry. So she forced herself to tear her eyes away from him, in case he looked back - which, knowing him, he would, wanting to get a reaction from her. She kept her face as blank as possible and played with the little shaker of parmesan cheese instead.

Finally, when she was sure he had to be to his car by now, she chanced a look out the big window at the front of the restaurant. She was just in time to see the silver Jag pulling away, its tires squealing against the pavement.

***

Chapter 15


AN: Thanks to Diana for her suggestion! :)


Claire shook her head slowly as she watched Nick’s car speed away. So he really had left her.

Much to her own mortification, she felt her eyes began to prickle, as stinging tears threatened. Ohh no you don’t, she thought fiercely, fighting them back. You are not going to cry over this. What was wrong with her? She was not known for crying, especially over a stupid fight with a boyfriend.

Thoroughly irritated, both with Nick and now with herself, she reached for her purse and yanked her cell phone out of it, punching in the speed dial for Dianna’s cell. Please be on lunch break too, she begged silently, as the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Di,” she said with relief, and the tears began to rise in her eyes again at the familiar sound of her best friend’s voice. “Um, are you… are you on break right now?”

“Claire? Is that you? Yeah, I’m on break – what’s wrong??”

Claire let out a laugh through her tears; Dianna knew her so well. “Well, I’m… I’m kind of stranded here… at Leonardi’s. And I need a ride back to work… d’you think you could come get me?”

Dianna paused. “Are you crying??” she asked. Sounding alarmed, she went on, “Claire, what happened?? Are you okay??”

“I’m fine,” Claire said quickly, clearing her throat. “I’ll explain when you get here… that is, if you can-“

“Sure thing, girl, I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?”

“Thanks, Di,” Claire sniffed. “See you in a few.”

They hung up, and Claire shook her head, hoping she hadn’t given Dianna too much of a scare. She could just imagine her friend leaping out of her seat and speeding over, all because of a silly argument between Claire and Nick.

It was silly, she thought. He didn’t have to get so pissy… and he definitely didn’t have to go off and leave me, for god’s sake. But that was just how Nick was… he was a big baby sometimes, acting immature like this, going off to pout instead of just talking it out with her like an adult. She let out a shuddering sigh, her anger with him returning as her eyes dried.

The pizza arrived about a minute before Dianna did. The waitress was just setting out two plates when Claire saw Dianna’s Cavalier pulling into the parking lot outside the building.

“Um, could you bring a box for the pizza?” she asked the waitress quickly. “I think we’re actually going to take this to go…”

“Oh, sure,” said the waitress, disappearing to go get a box, just as Dianna hurried in. She looked around, spotted Claire, and rushed over.

“Claire!” she exclaimed, her eyes searching Claire’s face. “Okay, spill – what’s going on? How’d you get stranded here?”

“I don’t want to talk in here,” said Claire. “The waitress is bringing a box for the pizza, and then when we can go eat it in your car.”

“Okay…” said Dianna slowly. “As long as you don’t get pizza goo all over my seats.”

Claire rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything – Dianna was doing her a huge favor here; the last thing she wanted to do was make her mad too.

The waitress returned with a box and the check for the pizza. Claire paid and then carried the pizza out behind Dianna, who led the way to her car. They climbed in and rolled down the windows, and then Dianna said, “Okay… now spill. The story, I mean, not the pizza!”

Claire laughed. “There’s not really that much to tell,” she said lamely. “Nick surprised me at work, and we came here for lunch, and he had a present for me…” She thought of the velvet box she’d unwrapped and shook her head, chucking ruefully. “He had it in a velvet jewelry box, and I swear to God, Dianna, when I saw the box, I thought it was a ring. I thought he was gonna propose.”

“Ooh!” Dianna’s brown eyes lit up, then darkened. “But he didn’t?”

“No. Wasn’t a ring. It was a key, a key to his house. He asked me to move in with him.”

“Oh. What’d you say?”

“I guess I didn’t really give him an answer… I just said I needed to think about it. And he got the wrong idea and flipped out on me. It was like everything I said, he totally misunderstood.”

Dianna’s forehead creased. “What do you mean? Like what did you say?”

“God, I dunno…” Claire rubbed her temples warily, trying to remember the specifics of the whole conversation. It was all sort of a blur now. “I was just trying to point out that I wasn’t sure if I was ready to just pack up all my stuff and move out of my apartment yet… because, who knows, we could break up a few months from now, and I’d have to move out again and find a new place to live. Not that that’s going to happen, but you never know – it could. That’s all I was trying to get him to see, and he took it like I wanted to break up with him, which of course I don’t – I love him. But ahh, I’m so mad at him right now!”

“So what happened, he got pissed and left?”

“Yep. That’s exactly what happened,” said Claire. “This is what he does – he pouts. He just runs away and keeps everything to himself instead of sticking around to talk it out.” She sighed, then went on, “But I guess people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, because it’s not like I’ve never done the same thing.” She snickered. “I did do the same thing – to him, last year, at this very place. Got pissed off and walked right out on him. But-“ she added defensively, “-he at least had a car so he could get home. I didn’t leave him stranded.”

Dianna laughed. “Well, I don’t even need to say anything, you just said it all yourself. But forget what you did last year – that’s ancient history. It doesn’t make it right for him to do it to you. He’s being an ass.”

“Thank you,” said Claire, pleased to hear someone else voice what she had been thinking. Of course, she had expected it from Dianna – Dianna was loyal; she pretty much always sided with Claire, as Claire always stood up for her.

“He probably doesn’t get it though,” Dianna said after a moment. “I mean, he’s a celebrity – he’s probably used to women moving in with him right away, and then different women moving in to take their place when they move out. And then there’s you, who has never lived with one of your boyfriends before. You guys just have such different backgrounds and different lives… you gotta expect arguments like this to come up from time to time because of that.”

Claire nodded. “I know,” she said. “I thought the same thing, about how his girlfriends probably all just moved in with him without a second thought. But I’m not like them. He’s used to sluts who use him for his money and his fame, and of course they’re not going to have a problem moving in with him. But jeez, I’m not like that, and he knows that. I tried to point that out, but that’s when he got all pouty. He was trying to make me feel sorry for him, and I was just like, ‘You know, you can feel sorry for yourself all you want, but I’m not going to.’” She rolled her eyes. “That’s when he left.”

Dianna frowned. “Hm… so you don’t feel sorry for him?”

Now it was Claire’s turn to frown. “No,” she answered.

“Really? Well, I do. God, what happened to him sucks. I can’t even imagine…”

Claire sighed. “I know… it does suck, no one’s denying that. And I guess I did feel sorry for him right after he… lost his leg – cause that’s what this is all going back to. But I don’t anymore… and he doesn’t want me to pity him! He only wants it when he wants something else from me – like making me feel sorry for him so I’d say I would move in with him. But most of the time, he doesn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him – he just wants to be treated like a normal guy. He is a normal guy. And see, this is where we’re going to have a different take on things, Dianna… because – and I’m not trying to be a bitch here – I understand him, and he understands me, in a way that most people – including you – couldn’t. It’s because we’ve been through kind of the same thing… we have a perspective that no one else has. When I was sick, I didn’t want pity… you remember me telling you that. All I wanted was to be treated the same, and you were one of the only ones that could do that. And Nick is the same way. I think that’s a big reason why we got so close – we went through hell together, and we both just understood each other. You know what I mean?”

Dianna nodded slowly. “I get you,” she said. “Well, I think you just need to give him a chance to cool down, and then go talk to him. If you understand each other so well, he’ll come around and see where you’re coming from.”

“I hope so,” said Claire. “That’s the thing, though… we do understand each other so well, on one level… but then there are areas where we just don’t get each other. Like you said, we’re just different.”

“That’s okay though… opposites attract, right?” Dianna smiled.

Claire laughed, returning the smile. “Right…”

“Don’t worry about this, girl, I’m sure it’ll all work out. Nick’s crazy about you, and I know you love him. You’ll talk it out and be just fine.”

“Thanks, Di,” said Claire, and let Dianna pull her into a hug across the armrest between their seats.

“You’re welcome. Now, can we dig into this pizza? Because you interrupted my lunch, and I’m starving, not to mention it’s gonna get cold if we keep talking.”

Claire laughed again and pulled open the greasy pizza box. “Of course,” she said, passing a slice to Dianna. “After all that drama, I need some pizza.”

***

I am a little bit of loneliness
A little bit of disregard
A handful of complaints
But I can’t help the fact
That everyone can see these scars

I am what I want you to want
What I want you to feel
But it’s like no matter what I do
I can’t convince you
To just believe this is real

So I let go, watching you
Turn your back like you always do
Face away and pretend that I’m not
But I’ll be here cause you’re all that I got


Sitting alone in his car, the windows rolled down, the engine turned off, Nick felt miserable. Sweat ran slowly down his back, just between his shoulder blades, and the growling of his stomach seemed almost louder than the birds that chirped outside. “Way to go, Carter, running out before you get your pizza,” he muttered to himself, slamming his hands down on the steering wheel in frustration. He must have accidentally bumped the horn, for it honked loudly, startling him. He slumped lower in his seat, hoping he hadn’t attracted too much attention to himself. He didn’t want anyone to know he was there… especially not her.

How pathetically weak was he? He had stormed out of the restaurant in a huff, too angry and hurt to think clearly. All he wanted was to get away. He had climbed into the Jag, slammed the door as hard as he could, gunned the engine, and sped off. But he had barely gotten out of the parking lot before the guilt set in. What kind of boyfriend was he, just ditching his girlfriend and leaving her there, without a care?

Well, the truth was, angry or not, he did care. He was too stubborn to turn back, knowing he’d only look like a fool, so instead he had pulled into the parking lot of the Dairy Queen on the other side of the street, two blocks down from Leonardi’s. He decided he’d wait there for awhile, and see what happened. He assumed she’d call someone to come get her, but if no one came, he knew he would go back for her, whether he really wanted to or not.

There had been no sign of Claire the whole time he’d been sitting there, but all at once he noticed a bright red Cavalier drive past. His eyes narrowed; he recognized that car. Sure enough, it slowed and turned into the Leonardi’s lot, and when it had parked, the driver’s side door opened, and a dark-haired woman emerged. He let out a sigh. Just as he’d thought, it was Claire’s best friend, Dianna.

His mind at ease that she would at least have a ride back to work, he jammed his key back into the ignition of his car and turned on the engine. Putting up the windows and cranking the air conditioning, he tuned the radio to a rock station, turned up the volume, and blasted out of his parking space, wanting to be far away from that area by the time Dianna and Claire left.

His mind was blank the whole way home, but once he’d pulled the Jaguar into his long, circling driveway, and shut off the engine, all of his thoughts and feelings began to surface. He climbed slowly out of the car and staggered wearily up to the house. Once inside, he went straight to the living room and collapsed onto the couch. He picked up the remote, then dropped it again without bothering to turn on the TV. Who needed the noise? He just had to think.

He felt like such an asshole… and he knew he had been, for walking out on her like that. But besides that, he couldn’t figure out why he felt bad. He hadn’t done anything wrong. She was the one who had started the argument. She gave him such a hard time about everything. It would have been so much simpler if she’d just said yes to moving in with him. What was wrong with that idea? They’d practically been dating half a year already… and they loved each other. Moving in together just seemed like the next step. So why was she so unsure about it?

His worst fear was that maybe she didn’t really love him, at least not as much as he loved her. All her talk about breaking up scared him. It scared him because he loved her… and also because she, in turn, made him feel loved. She was the only woman he’d gotten close to since cancer had taken his leg and come close to taking his life, and he felt complete when he was with her. If she left him, who would be with him? If she stopped loving him, who would?

Tormented by the idea of losing her, he decided he needed to talk to her, as soon as possible. Needed to find out what was going through her head, what she was feeling. Needed to make up with her, before it was too late.

He looked up at the clock on the wall. It was going on 1:30. She’d be back at work by now, and she didn’t get off till three. An hour and a half to go…

***

An hour and a half to go, thought Claire, as she stuck her timecard into the clock at work, punching back in for the afternoon. She couldn’t wait for the day to be over. It had started out a nice one, but quickly dissolved into the day from hell. All she wanted to do now was go home, crank up her loudest, angriest music, and let out her pent-up frustration with Nick. She had done some of that already, ranting to Dianna in the car, enough to where she could return to work, dry-eyed and composed enough to finish out the day.

When she got back to her exam room, she found Laureen already sitting there, waiting for her.

“Hey!” Laureen greeted her brightly. “How was lunch with Nick?”

Wincing inwardly at the sound of his name, Claire pasted what she hoped looked like a pleasant smile onto her face and replied, “Oh, it was fine…” She hated to lie, but there was no way she was going to let slip what had happened, not to someone she barely knew, who also happened to be one of his fans.

She had two patients left to see for the day, with a break for clean-up and set-up in between. When she had turned over the last of them to Tim to examine, she told Laureen goodbye, grabbed her purse, and clocked out for the day, eager to go home and be by herself. But as soon as she had stepped out, blinking, into the bright sunlight and scanned the small parking lot, she saw it was not going to be that easy. For right across the lot, there sat a shiny silver Jaguar, sparkling in the afternoon sun.

She stopped in her tracks, putting her hands on her hips. Damn him, she thought, groaning when she realized he was parked right next to her old Toyota. Not even that, but he had backed into his space, and was so close to her car that there was no way she could squeeze into the driver’s seat without brushing her ass up against driver’s side door of the Jag. Ass.

Knowing he was sitting there right now, watching her every move, she was half-tempted to just turn around and go back inside. Would he follow her?

No… he would probably just sit there and wait. Wait until she had no choice but to come out and go to her car. It would be a battle of wills then – who could hold out the longest, her holed up in the office and him sitting in his car? It was not a battle she wanted to fight – she was stubborn, sure, but so was he. They’d both be there all night.

Screw him, she thought, making up her mind and stalking across the lot towards her car. I’m getting in my car and going home, and he can’t stop me. And if she happened to put a nice big dent in the side of his car in the process, it would serve him right.

As soon as she neared the back of her car, he stuck his head out of his window. She stopped, glaring at him for a moment before expelling an annoyed sigh. Putting her hands back on her hips, she demanded, “What are you doing here?”

***


I can’t feel
The way I did before
Don’t turn your back on me
I won’t be ignored
Time won’t heal
This damage anymore
Don’t turn your back on me
I won’t be ignored


What am I doing here? Nick thought with a sigh as he sat waiting, his eyes trained on the door of the dentist’s office, out of which Claire was due to come any minute. It had probably been a mistake to come here and wait for her like this, but he was desperate to talk to her, to apologize for ditching her earlier if nothing else. But what he was really hoping for was something from her in return – an apology of her own, for the things she had said before he walked out, or at least some small sign that she still loved him. That was all he really wanted; that was what he needed to know.

His heart skipped a beat as the front door of the office swung open, and Claire emerged. He sat still, holding his breath, waiting for her to look up and notice his car. He knew she would – he had purposely parked right next to her, and had backed his car in so that he was on the same side as where she would get into her car. Whether she spoke to him or not, she’d at least have to walk past him, unless she was going to be difficult and crawl across the passenger seat instead… which, now that he thought about it, would be a very Claire thing to do. He hoped she’d just be mature and talk to him instead.

She sees me, he thought, watching as she stopped and put her hands on her hips. She stood there for a moment and then started walking toward him, every stride bursting with defiance. When she got close, he stuck his head out the window, determined to get a word in before she blew him off, if that’s what she was going to do.

She stopped again and sighed loudly, her hands returning to her hips. “What are you doing here?” she asked, none-too-kindly.

Inwardly, he winced, but he kept his expression neutral, refusing to let it show. “I want to talk to you,” he said evenly.

“Oh, now you want to talk?” she spouted, her eyebrows raised, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Funny, when I was trying to talk to you in Leonardi’s, you walked off and left me.”

Okay, so he deserved that one. Bowing his head guiltily, he acknowledged this. “I know. I’m sorry… that was a shitty thing to do.”

“Damn right it was. Really shitty.”

“Really shitty,” he echoed glumly. “I wasn’t thinking… I was just mad. You know how it is. But I’ve had a chance to think now, and I… uh… can we talk?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “I don’t think so, Nick. Not right now.”

“Claire-“

“Not. Now,” she repeated firmly, narrowing her eyes at him. “I haven’t had a chance to think about it yet. Unlike you, I’ve been working.”

Was that meant to be a slam? He chose to brush it aside and instead looked up at her pleadingly. “Claire, please,” he begged.

But she blew him off. “Leave me alone," she said, squeezing between the two cars, her upper body coming temptingly within his reach as she sidled past his open window. But he kept his hands to himself and looked down at the steering wheel, not wanting to piss her off again. Let her go, he counseled himself. Give her some time.

“Might want to work on your parking skills,” she said loudly, as she unlocked the door of her car. “You’re almost on the white line. Better watch out, or you just may get your precious car dinged, parking so close like this.”

He craned his neck to look back at her. “You wouldn’t,” he said in a low voice, his palms sweating as she held her door open, just inches away from the side of his Jag.

She arched an eyebrow. “Me? Well, not on purpose… just like I know you didn’t park this close on purpose. But gee, you didn’t give me much room to get in…”

He looked away. “God damnit, Claire,” he muttered under his breath and glanced back to see her sliding into the driver’s seat of her car, her door open just enough for her to squeeze in. He breathed a sigh of relief and waited until he heard her door slam, then turned the key in his ignition, rousing the Jaguar. No sooner had he put the car into gear than her Toyota revved to life beside him and shot out of its space before he had even taken his foot off the brake. He watched, smirking, as she lurched to a stop in the aisle, threw the car into drive, and sped off, leaving him in her dust, so to speak. So like her, trying to show him up and beat him out of the parking lot.

And god, did he love it.


I am a little bit insecure
A little unconfident
Cause you don’t understand
I do what I can
But sometimes I don’t make sense

I am what you never want to say
But I’ve never had a doubt
It’s like no matter what I do
I can’t convince you
For once just to hear me out

So I let go, watching you
Turn your back like you always do
Face away and pretend that I’m not
But I’ll be here cause you’re all that I got

- “Faint” by Linkin Park


***

***


Chapter 16

Days passed, and Claire saw and heard nothing more of Nick. By the middle of the week, her annoyance with him had faded, and she found herself wondering when he was going to call her… if he was going to call her, that was. She had certainly fought the urge to pick up the phone and call him first, but her stubborn streak never failed at keeping her from dialing all seven digits of his number – she usually got four or five of them in and then hung up. After refusing to talk to him after work on Monday, she didn’t want to come crawling back to him; she wanted him to call first. And she was sure he felt the same way about her. Again, it was a battle of wills – who was going to break down and make the first move?

She thought it should be him – even though he had technically already apologized for leaving her at Leonardi’s, it was still he who had started the whole thing, as far as she was concerned. But by the time Thursday rolled around, she decided that if she had heard nothing from him by the time she got off work that afternoon, she would call. If nothing else, she had to find out whether or not he was still coming to Gainesville with her that weekend to visit her parents. The way things seemed to be going, it didn’t look promising.

This whole week has sucked, Claire thought, as she hit yet another red light on the way home from work. She slammed on her brakes and laid on her horn at the truck in the lane next to her, who sailed through the red without a care in the world. She heard other horns echoing hers from the intersecting street and smiled to herself in satisfaction. Now if only there was a cop around to see that… But, of course, cops only seemed to be around at the most inopportune times, like when she was late to work and speeding to get there before she went from late to really late.

That hadn’t happened to her that morning, luckily, but it was just about the only thing that hadn’t. Over the course of the day, she figured she had to have set some kind of new record for highest number of nightmare patients in a matter of hours – a little boy who tried to bite her fingers whenever she had them in his mouth; a little girl who screamed bloody murder every time her fingers even neared her mouth; a chubby kid who managed to swallow his fluoride treatment and then proceeded to vomit it right back up, all over himself, the dental chair, and her; and an old man with rotting teeth and rancid breath who tried to pinch her ass every time she turned around. By the time she’d finished with the smelly old pervert, she was too fed up to even joke about it, although she sure it would make for a good story to tell around lunch the next day.

For now though, she was still too grossed out to even think about food, and all she wanted to do was get home, take a long shower, and try to forget this whole day – no, make that week – had ever happened.

When she reached her apartment building, she parked in her usual spot in the small lot and got out of her car. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she shuffled tiredly up the walkway, which was in need of a good weeding, to the front door. She pushed it open and walked inside, heading straight for the narrow staircase that would take her up to her second story apartment. Stopping at the foot of the stairs, she looked down and frowned. There, lying at her feet, was a single, long-stemmed yellow rose. And on the stair above that was another, and above that, yet another. Her eyes followed the banister all the way up the staircase and widened as she saw yellow blossoms peeking down at her from every step.

Instinctively, she knew exactly what this was, and who had done it. But she had to see for herself. She knelt down and gingerly picked up the flower at her feet. There was a note tied to its stem with a red satin ribbon, written on a small scrap of plain white paper, folded over once. She unfolded it and recognized Nick’s boyish scrawl. Feeling herself smile, she read the words.

Living without you…

Her smile faded to a frown – what was that supposed to mean? Perplexed, she plucked the rose from the first step and brought it up to her nose, inhaling its scent briefly before curiously unfolding the attached note and reading it.

Living alone…

Now her smile returned, as recognition hit her with those two words. She reached for the rose on the next stair and eagerly read its message.

This empty house seems so cold…

Giggling, she climbed up a step and picked up the next rose. This time, she whispered the words even before her eyes recognized them on the scrap of paper.

Wanting to hold you…

“Wanting you near,” she added, leaning down to get the next one. She smiled as she read the note: Wanting you near…

The next rose’s note said just what she expected.

How much I wanted you home…

“I know you do, Nick,” she sighed softly, with a wistful smile. “I know.”

The notes continued on, right in order, each saying just what she thought they would. Yet she enjoyed reading each and every word, penned so endearingly in his own hand.

But now that you’ve come back…

Turned night into day…

I need you to stay…

She reached the ninth step, and, tightening her hold on her ever-growing bouquet of yellow roses, she stooped to pick up the tenth rose, her heart fluttering when she read the familiar words on its note.

So now I come to you, with open arms…

And still they continued, as she kept on ascending, a rose for each stair, a note for each rose, a lyric for each note:

Nothing to hide…

Believe what I say…

So here I am, with open arms…

Hoping you’ll see…

What your love means to me…

She stopped, holding the last rose, with the last note, in her hand. She had reached the top of the staircase, the second story. But where-?

And then she heard footsteps coming up the hall. She smiled, overcome with emotion. She recognized those footsteps… faintly different from most others, just the tiniest bit off, uneven… the footfalls of someone with a slight, almost unnoticeable limp. They became louder and louder, closer and closer. They rounded the corner…

And then he was there.

He stood there before her for a minute, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes traveling the length of her. He licked his lips, and she watched them curve into a smile as he saw the bouquet in her arms.

She shook her head in amazement. And all she could find to say was, “Where’s the end? Hoping you’ll see… what your love means to me…” She trailed off; it had to be continued! Leaving it like that was like playing seven notes of a scale and never resolving it with the that all-important eighth note.

Nick grinned. And he finished the scale. He held out his arms, as if to embrace her, and then she saw the white scrap of paper taped to t-shirt with masking tape, right in the middle of his chest, where his arms had been hiding it. She leaned forward to read what it said, as if she didn’t already know.

It read, very simply:

ß (Open Arms) à

With an arrow on each side, pointing to his outstretched arms.

A giggle escaped her, and she clapped her hand over her mouth, looking up at him in absolute adoration. She didn’t even know what to say. Then she realized it didn’t matter, not quite yet. All she had to do was fall into his “open arms” and lose herself in his warm embrace. And so she did. And feeling his arms close around her, holding her tight against his broad chest, she knew that no words were needed. Apologies… forgiveness… in that instant, she felt they’d covered all bases without saying a thing.

Still clutching her flowers in one fist, she awkwardly wrapped her arms around him. He squirmed. “Ow… thorns… digging into back…” He pulled away, wincing, and she giggled, letting go of him and pulling the flowers back.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, carefully setting the bouquet on the floor next to her. “Let’s try that again.” Reaching for him, she pulled him back into a hug and felt his arms return around her. She sighed happily against his chest and ran one hand up and down his back. She could feel his spine and his muscles through the thin material of his t-shirt. And then- “Uh, Nick?” Her fingers had brushed something foreign. They curled around it, gave it a pull… She laughed. “What’s this?” She was holding yet another rose, which had apparently been sticking out of the back pocket of his jeans, hidden behind his back. This one was different from the others though – it was red, not yellow. But there was still a note.

“Oh,” he laughed, as her fingers fumbled with the note, unfolding it slowly. “I knew I’d mess something up - I was supposed to give you that.”

Smiling, she read the piece of paper. All it said was: P.S. I’m sorry

“I don’t think that’s in the song,” she joked, grinning up at him.

He grinned back. “I know. But I am.”

“I am too,” she said. “If I hurt your feelings, that day in Leonardi’s… I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s all right. I was just mad. And I know you were just frustrated.”

She nodded. “So we’re good now?”

“We’re good,” he grinned. “I love you, Claire.”

“And I love you too, Nick. You know that, right?”

He nodded. “I know.”

“Good,” she said with a smile. “See that you don’t forget.”

He chuckled. “Aw, I dunno… you might have to remind me from time to time.”

“Oh yeah? And how do you suppose I should do that? Like… this?” Rising onto her toes, she pulled him close and kissed his lips with all the passion that had been building up inside her with every stair she’d climbed, every rose she’d smelled, and every note she’d read.

“Whew,” he gasped breathlessly when the kiss was broken. “Yeah, I’d say that’s a great reminder.”

“I’ll have to remember that then,” she said, coyly twisting a lock of hair around her finger. “But if I forget…”

He grinned roguishly and pulled her back to him. “Then I’ll just have to remind you.” And he caught her mouth in another fiery kiss.

As she kissed back, she decided it would not be a good time to tell him she’d been puked on by an overweight eight-year-old two hours earlier.

***

Lyrics: “Open Arms” by Journey

Chapter 17


AN: Thanks to Mary for her suggestions for this chapter! I totally got out of having to do much Nick “channeling,” cause she rocks at it!


If you’re not the one
Then why does my soul feel glad today?
If you’re not the one
Then why does my hand fit yours this way?
If you are not mine
Then why does your heart return my call?
If you are not mine
Would I have the strength to stand at all?

I never know what the future brings
But I know you’re here with me now
We’ll make it through, and I hope you are
The one I share my life with

- “If You’re Not the One” by Daniel Bedingfield


“So… we do need to talk, you know.”

Snuggled up with Claire on her sagging old couch, Nick smiled knowingly. He had expected that. “Yeah,” he replied. “I guess we do.”

Claire pulled herself out of his arms and straightened up, twisting her body around so that she was sitting sideways on the couch, facing Nick, one leg tucked under her. He turned so that he was facing her as well, and she reached out and took both of his hands. Playing with them absently in her lap, she said, “I think we need to continue the conversation we were trying to have on Monday… just get everything out, but calmly, no fighting. Okay?”

He nodded. “No fighting,” he promised. Smiling crookedly, he added, “I don’t wanna fight with you anymore.”

She smiled back, in a way that made his heart flutter with happiness. In the days since their argument, he had missed seeing that smile. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore either,” she said.

“Good. So…” He shrugged his shoulders. “Where do we start?” He was almost afraid to bring up the issue of her moving in with him again, but he knew it was going to have to be discussed at some point. They couldn’t fight about it and then never talk about it again. It had to be resolved, one way or the other.

“Well…” As if she’d been reading his mind, Claire replied, “We need to talk about what you asked me on Monday.”

He nodded solemnly, not saying anything. He’d let her talk first, see what she had to say. Maybe she’d agree to move in with him right then and there? Doubtful, but a guy could hope. Certainly what he’d done for her on the stairs had to carry some weight. He had put a lot of work into thinking up that scheme and then actually carrying it out, mustering up every ounce of romance he could. He’d spent all day cutting pieces of paper and lengths of ribbon, writing out the song lyrics, tying the notes to the long-stemmed roses he’d ordered from the florist. The actual set-up had been the worst – he didn’t know how many times he’d climbed up and down those stupid stairs, carefully placing the roses on each step, double-checking to make sure they were all perfectly lined up and in the right order. It was probably a miracle he hadn’t tripped or missed a step along the way and ended up in a heap at the bottom of the staircase with a broken neck or something. That could have worked to get her attention too, but it would have been a little extreme.

“Look, Nick, before I say anything else, I just want you to know this – I love you… and it’s not that I don’t want to move in with you. It’s just a big decision – at least to me it is – maybe bigger than you realize. And the way you asked me on Monday, it seemed like you were expecting an answer from me right then and there. And I couldn’t give you an answer then, not without thinking about it first. Do you understand that?”

Nick nodded again. He did understand that, now. He hadn’t as much on Monday, but he’d done some thinking of his own since then. He’d also talked to AJ on the phone, the day after the big fall-out.

“Did you have an easy time getting Mary to move in with you?” he’d asked, wondering what he was doing wrong.

“Yeah… I just kinda brought it up one night, and we both thought it would be fun to move in together,” replied AJ. “Why, are you thinking about finally asking Claire to move in?”

“Yeah… I already did, actually… only it didn’t go well at all. We kinda had a fight about it… a big fight.”

“Aw, sorry, Kaos. Well, give her some time; maybe she’s just not ready for that yet.”

“But we’ve been together five months, and you and Mary had only been together, what, like two weeks?”

AJ chuckled. “Well, you’re talking about two different people here, Nick. Claire’s not Mary. She’s just gonna need some more time, it sounds like. Claire’s a practical girl; she’s got a good head on her shoulders. Maybe she just needs to think on it for awhile. I say just give her some time, don’t push the issue, and wait for her to come around. And in the meantime, do something romantic for her. Chicks love that stuff.”

Looking back, AJ was so right. Bone had always been such a ladies man, and now Nick knew why. He wasn’t just some dog who used his charms and his wits to get chicks in his bed. He was a lot more sensitive and intuitive than most people gave him credit for. AJ seemed to actually understand women, more than Nick felt he ever would. Maybe that’s why AJ had always been better at finding the good ones. Not that he hadn’t ever been used in the past, but none of the women he’d ever dated were as bad as some of the girls Nick had been with.

I’m getting better though, Nick thought, a faint smile coming to his lips as he looked at Claire.

“What are you smiling at?” she asked, instead of what she had been planning to say next.

“Just thinking about how much I love you,” he replied. He was being sincere, but she rolled her eyes.

“You’re sweet, Nick, but before you go buttering me up to get me to move in with you, hear me out. There are several reasons why I’m not sure about moving in with you yet, and the possibility of us breaking up someday is just one of them.”

“What are the other ones?” Nick asked quickly, wanting to avoid the topic of them breaking up. He didn’t want to think about that.

“Well… one of them is just the idea of moving out of my home and into yours. I know that this apartment…” She looked around the small, cluttered room, “…. probably doesn’t even qualify as a ‘home’ to you, but I’ve lived here for three years, I pay my own rent… it’s mine.”

He nodded. “So… this is an independence thing? You like living on your own, taking care of yourself?” He already knew this about her. She was the exact opposite of Leah when it came to money, never wanting him to spend too much on her, always insisting on paying for things herself. He found it hard to get used to, but at the same time, admirable.

“Yeah…” Claire said slowly, “I guess so. But there’s other things to think about too. My parents…”

He groaned inwardly, but tried not to let it show on the outside. “What about your parents?”

“Well…” She made a face, shifting awkwardly. “I don’t know how well they’d like the idea of me moving in with you.”

“Why??” he asked immediately, feeling slightly hurt. She’d told him her parents liked him.

“It’s not you,” Claire replied quickly. “It’s just the whole idea of me living with a man I’m not married to. My parents are pretty traditional when it comes to stuff like that, and I’m not sure they – my dad especially – would be too happy about it. My brother and his wife didn’t live together until they got married.”

Nick frowned. “Well, listen, Claire, I’m not telling you to go against your dad, but… well, you’re an adult. At this point, you can do what you want – you shouldn’t have to look for your parents’ approval on everything.”

“I don’t!” she insisted. “But I also don’t want to piss them off by doing something I know they’re not going to approve of.”

Nick sighed. “So that’s a no then.”

She shook her head slowly. “No… not necessarily. I just need to think about it… and maybe talk to my mom this weekend. You know, bring it up, see what she thinks. When it all comes down to it, if I really want to move in with you, Nick, I will.”

Well, what was that supposed to mean? Hadn’t she thought about it already? How long was it going to take for her to make up her mind? Confused as he was, he decided to just let these questions go unanswered for the time being, not wanting to start another argument by asking.

“So,” said Claire, “I guess that’s what I would have told you Monday, if you’d stuck around long enough.” She winked, and he blushed, hanging his head guiltily.

“I’m sor-“ he started to say, but she put her finger to his lips, shushing him.

“We already did the apology thing, remember? And I already said what was on my mind – now it’s your turn.”

My turn? Nick thought. Hm, well, now was his time to try to persuade her to go against everything she’d just said and move in with him anyway. How exactly he was going to do that, he didn’t know, but he figured he’d just start talking, tell her how he felt, and hope something convincing came out.

“Okay… well…” he began awkwardly, fumbling for words. Finally, he just went for it. “Listen, Claire, I love you… and you love me… and I know neither of us know what’s going to happen in the future, whether we’re always going to be together or not, but we are now, and I think now is the time to focus on us… not on what other people will think, or what’s happened in the past, or what’s going to happen in the future. We just need to concentrate on the here and now, and us.”

He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts and then continued, “Moving in together could be a risk, yeah, because we don’t know how it will be, or what’s going to happen. But so what? Life’s all about taking risks – you and I both know that. Look at your bone marrow transplant... that was a risk – 50/50, right? But you took it, and you’re alive and healthy now because of it. And my lung surgery… the odds were even less in my favor there, but I went for it, and if I hadn’t, who knows if I’d be sitting here with you right now. After all of the crap we’ve been through, living together should be a piece of cake!”

He let out a breath, searching her face for some kind of response, his eyes locked on the blue of hers. She gazed back at him for a moment, and he watched her slowly bite down on her bottom lip. Finally, she said, “You have a good point, Nick. You really do.”

“Yeah?” he asked faintly, pleased with himself.

Smiling, she nodded. “Maybe you’re right. We don’t know how this is all going to turn out… but since when have we ever? I mean, think back two years ago, before we really knew each other. Did you ever think-“

“No,” he answered, before she had finished. He wasn’t even sure exactly what she was going to say, but it probably would have been a “no” no matter what. Two years ago, he’d been living in his own private hell, enduring his very first round of chemotherapy in secret. Back then, he could only see as far ahead as the immediate future. He didn’t even know if he’d be alive in two years. And he certainly never thought he would be alive, but missing his leg, and head over heels (okay, heel) in love with a girl he’d never given a second thought back then, a girl he’d only seen as someone who was sick and happened to be going through almost the same thing as he was.

She snickered. “Me neither.”

“But everything turned out for the bes-“ He stopped, his eyes instinctively lowering to his left leg, and corrected himself, “… well, maybe not for the best, but… good, at any rate. Not everything in my life has gone exactly the way I wanted it to, but… I’m happy. You make me happy, Claire.”

She squeezed his hands within hers, smiling up at him. “You make me happy too.”

“So… let’s move in together. Then we can make each other happy all the time.” He grinned cheekily. She was never going to buy this… but he had to try, right?

She giggled. “Uh-huh…”

Okay, not sold yet. One last try: “I have a jacuzzi, you know. Upstairs, in the master bath.”

“Ahh, that’s right…” she said slowly. “We haven’t been in it together yet.”

“We could go in it together every night if you wanted to,” he haggled, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “After we play on the beach out back…”

She giggled. "You’re really reaching now, you know.”

“I know,” he admitted sheepishly. “But-“

“But it’s working.”

Nick stopped, astonished. “It is?”

“It is,” she smiled. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t care so much about what other people think, or about what’s going to happen to us later on. Maybe I’ve been thinking too much. Maybe I should just be spontaneous and say ‘screw it all - let’s move in together.’”

He cocked his head at her in surprise. “Yeah…” he said, a slow smile stretching across his face. “That would work for me…”

She grinned. “Fine. Screw it all - let’s move in together.”


How can I begin to
Tell you what you do to
Me every time I hear you
More willing to wanna see you
I know that there’s no use in
Trying to explain my confusion
But still I’m not complaining
‘Bout my situation…

Let’s not talk about a possible ending
Let’s not think about it every day
And I know I’m so in love with you
I’m finding it harder and harder to breathe
Every time with you
My beautiful woman

- “My Beautiful Woman” by the Backstreet Boys


***

Chapter 18

Two days later, Nick was still reveling over the fact that he’d actually convinced Claire to move in with him, that after all the grief she’d given him over the issue, she had finally just up and said she would. But that was Claire. Like AJ had said, she was practical… but at the same time, she was also spontaneous. Nick swore she just liked to give him a hard time, mess with his mind a little, and then eventually give him what he wanted. It wasn’t the first time she had done so.

He’d been slightly afraid she was going to change her mind, but she hadn’t seemed to yet. The real test would be getting through the weekend though. They were driving to Gainesville that day to visit Claire’s parents, and Claire had promised to tell them Nick’s and her intentions to move in together. Afraid as he was that her parents were going to change her mind about the whole deal, Nick understood. Unlike him, she was close with her family, and he knew she wanted her parents’ blessings before she made this move. It was the same thing he’d been denied of when he’d moved out of his own family’s home at the age of eighteen. That was what had first alienated him from his mother, and even though these circumstances were different, he didn’t want to see something like that happen to Claire.

The drive to Gainesville was about two and a half hours, but as they entered the city limits, Nick found himself wishing it could have been longer. He had to admit, he was slightly nervous about staying with Claire’s parents for the weekend. At least it wouldn’t be his first time meeting them, but still, it had been over a year and a half since he’d seen them, when Claire was in the hospital following her transplant. A lot had changed since then, with him, with her, with their relationship. He hoped her family would still be as nice as he remembered them.

“This their neighborhood?” Nick asked, as Claire turned into a nice subdivision made up of large and moderate-sized homes that all appeared fairly new.

“Yep, this is it,” answered Claire, as Nick looked out the passenger side window, watching all of the spacious green lawns melt into each other as the houses passed by. “It’s mostly retired people… I keep telling them they’re turning into old farts.”

Nick snickered. “I’m sure they appreciate that.”

Claire hung a right, and then a left, following the curving road a ways until she came to a white house sprawled across a well-kept, nicely landscaped lawn. “This is the place,” she said, pulling into the poured concrete driveway. She parked behind a red jeep that was already in the drive and turned off her engine. She and Nick both climbed out of the car, and he fell back, letting her lead the way up a curving footpath to the front door.

The door swung open before Claire had even reached out to press the doorbell, and there stood her older brother, Kyle. He was in his early thirties and had the build of a football lineman – broad-shouldered, bulky, and slightly taller than Nick. He could have appeared intimidating, but his family resemblance to Claire made him less so – same red hair, just a shade darker; same blue eyes; and same fair skin, although his was more freckled from being out in the sun.

“Heya, Claire-Bear,” he greeted his sister, pulling her in for a big bear hug. Nick hung back, smirking at the nickname, until Kyle let go of Claire and reached out to him. “Good to see you again, Nick,” he said.

“You too, man,” replied Nick, and they casually shook hands.

“Well, come on through the house – Mom, Dad, and Amber are out back,” Kyle said, ushering Nick and Claire inside. “Do you guys have bags you want me to bring in?”

Claire waved him off. “Eh, we’ll get them later. Come on back with us.” She led the way through the interior of the house. It was very tidy and nicely-decorated, done mostly in neutral shades and soft pastels. The living room led into the kitchen, which led to a small, screened-in sun porch that extended off the back of the house. Claire’s parents and Kyle’s wife, whom Nick had met only once before, were sitting on the porch.

Claire’s parents, Kris and Carrie, rose immediately to meet them, alternating between hugging Claire and saying hello to Nick.

“Have a seat,” said her father Kris, clapping Nick on the back as he motioned to a pair of empty wicker chairs, padded with flowered cushions. Claire took Nick’s hand, and they sat down, while Kyle joined his wife Amber on the matching wicker loveseat. Carrie poured them tall glasses of iced tea from a pitcher, and the six of them made small talk. Listening to Claire and her father swap dentist stories, Nick could see that the two of them were close. He knew she had gone into the dental field mostly because her dad was a dentist. Meanwhile, he learned that Kyle and Amber were both teachers – he taught high school history (and coached the football team), and she taught first grade. Nick mostly listened rather than talked, as Kyle talked about football camp that summer, and Amber shared cute stories about her first graders, who were growing antsy with spring fever and the anticipation of summer break. He found he didn’t have a lot to say – after all, he didn’t know what it was like to hold a regular, 9-5 kind of job, and there wasn’t much he could say about his own career, which had been at a standstill for the last six months.

After awhile, Claire got up. “Let’s go bring our stuff in,” she said to Nick as she stretched, “and I can show you our room for the night.”

Nick perked up at the words “our room,” having envisioned himself stuck on a sofa bed or something for the night. “Okay,” he said, following Claire back through the house and outside to her car. She opened up her trunk and hauled out their two bags, handing him his to carry inside.

“Right this way,” she said, as if she were a tour guide, leading him through the living room and turning into a hallway that led to what Nick assumed were the bedrooms. One wall in the hall was filled with family pictures, and he stopped momentarily to look at them.

“This you?” he asked, smiling at a picture of what had to be her as a little girl… red hair in a ponytail on the side of her head, freckles dotting her nose and cheeks, her two front teeth missing as she grinned at the camera.

Claire stopped to look at the picture he was pointing out and snorted. “Yep, that’s me… my first grade school picture.”

He chuckled and continued slowly down the hall, gazing over all the pictures. He stopped at another one near the end of the line, a professional portrait of a much-older Claire. He could tell it was a few years old, but she looked beautiful in it, dressed sophisticatedly and posed perfectly, with just a hint of a smile on her lips and long hair falling over her shoulder.

“That’s one of my senior pictures, from high school,” she said, glancing back at it.

“Your hair was long then,” he commented.

“Yeah, it was, wasn’t it? Wow, I haven’t had hair that long in awhile. That was before it all fell out,” she said with a little laugh. “Come on.” She led him through an open doorway and into a small bedroom with a double bed in the center. “This is ours for the night,” she told him, dropping her bag on the floor in the center of the room.

“Cool,” he said, dropping his as well.

They hung around the house until dinner was ready and then joined the rest of Claire’s family around a crowded dining room table. As dishes were passed, and plates were filled, Nick found himself wondering when the last time he’d sat down to a nice “family” dinner like this. He had joined Howie’s family for dinner the previous Christmas Eve, but it had been years since his own family had been all together for dinner. In a way, he envied Claire for having a family nearby that she was close to, just as a part of him had always envied Brian, Kevin, Howie, and AJ for the same reason.

Before anyone started eating, Kyle cleared his throat and said, “Um, not to keep us from our meal, but Amber and I have an announcement to make.”

Nick caught the exchange of smiles between Kyle and his wife and smiled himself, waiting for their “announcement.”

Taking Kyle’s hand on top of the table, Amber said, “We just found out a few weeks ago… we’re having a baby!”

Carrie let out a little gasp of excitement, and Kris sort of chuckled, grinning broadly at his son.

“Ahh, so that means I’m going to be an aunt!” Claire exclaimed, and Nick smiled over at her. He noticed everyone else’s eyes shift to her as well, only without the smiles. He could have sworn he saw some of the sparkle of excitement leave Carrie’s eyes as she studied her daughter, and Amber suddenly looked nervous, twisting her hands around on the table top and just barely biting her bottom lip.

Nick looked around in confusion, but he didn’t have a chance to ask what had just happened, for Kyle chose that moment to say abruptly, “Well, we just wanted to tell you while everyone’s here together. But don’t let the food get cold on account of us – let’s eat.” He plunged his spoon into the heap of mashed potatoes on his plate and took a bite. The others followed suit, starting on their dinner. Reluctantly, Nick joined in, still perplexed by the sudden mood change around the table.

He didn’t get a chance to question Claire about it until after dinner, when she slipped off to use the bathroom. He hung back in the hallway, waiting for her. As soon as she emerged from the bathroom, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the guest bedroom, flipping on the light and closing the door behind them.

“What are you doing?” she asked, looking perplexed, as he led her over to the bed to sit down.

“What was going on at dinner?” he answered her question with a question of his own, sure that he appeared just as confused as she did.

“What do you mean?”

“Right after Kyle and Amber’s announcement, when you said you were gonna be an aunt. What the heck happened right after that? Was it just me, or was that really awkward?”

Claire rolled her eyes. “So you noticed it too. Gotta love their subtlety,” she remarked sarcastically.

“What do you mean – what were they trying to be subtle about?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

Claire sighed. “I probably should have told you this straight out, before we got serious, but… I dunno, I guess the right time never really came up, and when it did, it was still the wrong time…”

Huh? “What are you talking about?” he demanded, still totally confused and quite concerned. What had she been hiding from him?

She looked him in the eye and said quietly, “I’m sterile, Nick.”

It took a moment for him to register what this meant, and when it did hit him, all he could find to say was, “O-oh.” Good going, Carter, he thought. That was lame. Desperate for something else to say, he added, “Is it… from the chemo?”

She nodded solemnly. “Yeah, they told me before I went back on chemo after I relapsed a couple years ago that it would probably make me lose my fertility. And if that didn’t do it for sure, the transplant definitely did.”

He pursed his lips, studying her for a moment. “I’m sorry, Claire,” he said. “I didn’t know…”

“I didn’t expect you to. I didn’t tell you,” she replied, looking down at her hands, which sat limply in her lap. “I should have though, before now. It’s something you should have known before we got serious enough to move in together.” Looking back up at him, she added, “If it changes things for you, Nick, I understand.”

He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘things’? You mean like my feelings for you? Why would it?”

She shrugged. “It could, for some people… I know it would make a big difference in some relationships, knowing that one of the people couldn’t have children.”

“It doesn’t for me,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I love you, Claire. That’s not gonna change, no matter what.”

She broke into a smile. “Thanks, Nick… I was hoping that’s what you would say, once you knew, but… you never know… I was kinda worried about it.”

He shook his head again and reached out for her, pulling her in for a warm hug. “You shouldn’t have worried about it at all,” he murmured into her ear, running his hand up and down her back. “You of all people should have known it wouldn’t make a difference in how I felt about you. I mean, you fell for me when I was bald and gross-looking, and you stayed by my side even after I lost my leg… I know a lot of women would have freaked out and ran at that point. But you didn’t. You stayed…”

She pulled back from his embrace and looked into his eyes, reaching up to take his face in her hands. “Of course I did,” she said, smiling tenderly. “Like you said… I love you. And that’s not gonna change, no matter what.” Leaning forward, she kissed him softly on the lips. “Thanks for understanding,” she whispered as she pulled back.

“Thanks for telling me,” he replied, squeezing her upper arm affectionately. “You ready to go back out and join the family?”

“Yeah, we better,” she said. “I hope they don’t think I’m back here pouting or something… I swear, my mom and Amber were both looking at me like they thought I was about to leap up from the table and run off in tears, out of jealousy or something.” She laughed. “Definitely not the case. I’m really happy for them… Amber’s gonna make a great mom.”

Nick nodded. “And you’d make a great mom someday too, Claire… you could always adopt a kid, you know.”

She smiled. “Oh, I know. That’s why I don’t look at it like it’s the end of the world. I still have plenty of options…”

He nodded again. “That’s a good way to look at it.”

“Yeah. It was kind of a blow at first, but I’ve accepted it. Small price to pay for your life, you know?”

“Very true,” he agreed.

She nodded. “So… that’s that. Now let’s go back out there. Maybe they’ll just think we came in here for a quickie after dinner.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and he laughed.

“A quickie after dinner?” he repeated, smirking. “I think I’d call that dessert.”

***

Their real dessert that night was a raspberry pie that Claire’s mother had baked herself. Nick couldn’t help but wonder if she always baked like that, or if she was just trying to make a good impression because he was visiting. Either way, it was very good, better than anything he’d ever remembered his mom cooking when he was young, and he thought it was too bad that Claire hadn’t seemed to inherit Carrie’s talent in the kitchen.

“Oh – Claire,” Kyle said between bites, “I forgot to tell you earlier, but I ran into Brad Turner the other day and talked to him for a few minutes. Did you know Jamie’s coming down for a few days to visit?”

Jamie. He was one of Claire’s old friends – old boyfriends, to be more specific. He lived in Iowa, and Nick had never met him, but he’d certainly heard enough about him. He knew that Claire and Jamie had been friends for many years and dated for two years in high school, only to break up later. He also knew that Jamie had hurt her at one point, but that they were back to being friends again now. And finally, he knew that he was not at all pleased to hear that the guy was coming to town.

Claire, on the other hand, looked very pleased. “He is?” she asked in surprise. “When? He didn’t tell me he was coming!”

“Next weekend, I think,” said Kyle. “Maybe he was going to surprise you?”

“Well, if he was, you just ruined it,” Claire said with a grin. “I’ll have to call him… that’s exciting!”

Nick tried to not feel left out. She hadn’t seen Jamie since the previous December; of course she was excited. They were still friends, after all. Just friends, Nick reminded himself. They’re just friends.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel slightly put out the rest of the night, knowing he would probably have to meet this Jamie when he came.

“Are you okay?” Claire asked later, as they were getting ready for bed. “You’re quiet tonight.”

“I’m fine,” Nick shrugged. “Just tired, I guess.”

She nodded. “Me too. Hey, are you still planning on coming to Mass with us tomorrow?”

Nick stifled a groan. He’d almost forgotten he’d promised Claire he would go to church with her family on Sunday morning. She had brought it up the day before when he was packing.

“Just so you know, my parents will probably expect me to come to Mass with them on Sunday. You don’t have to come, of course, but you can if you want to.”

“I will,” Nick said agreeably, wanting to make a good impression on her family.

“Okay,” she had smiled. “Pack something semi-dressy then.”

He almost wished now that he hadn’t agreed to go. He had nothing against church, but he always felt like such a heathen when he sat through a service, for his family had rarely attended church when he was growing up.

Still, it was too late to back out now, so he forced a smile and replied, “Sure I’m coming.” He might have felt like a heathen, but he didn’t want Claire’s parents to think he was one. Dutifully, he pulled out the black slacks and dress shirt he’d brought for the occasion, laying them carefully across a chair so that they would not wrinkle in his suitcase overnight.

“Cool. The service starts at ten, and we’ll probably leave here around twenty till. I’m gonna get up at 8:30,” she said, setting the alarm clock on her side of the bed.

“Sounds good,” he mumbled, sitting down on the edge of the bed to take off his clothes, while Claire disappeared to the bathroom. He stripped down to his boxers and traded his shirt for a thin, loose-fitting wifebeater. Last of all, he removed his prosthetic leg and plugged it in to charge for the night. Hopping back over to the bed, he sank down on it and slid beneath the covers.

Claire joined him a few minutes later, wearing nothing but an old t-shirt that was several sizes too big for her. The minute she climbed into bed and snuggled up against him, his mood improved. The double bed was a little smaller than they were used to, but he didn’t care. He liked being this close to her. Smiling, he rolled onto his side to face her and draped an arm around her, lightly rubbing her shoulder. He could not wait for the point when he could lie in bed with her like this every night, falling asleep and awakening by her side.

“Are you going to talk to your parents tomorrow about us moving in together?” he asked her in hushed tones.

“Yeah, definitely,” she replied.

He nodded, not saying anything else. He was a little nervous about that promised conversation, wondering what her parents’ reaction would be and how she would take it. Would she change her mind if they were totally against the idea?

He decided now was not the time to worry about it. He really was tired, and he had to be up fairly early the next day for church. Leaning forward, he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. She had just washed her face, and her smooth skin smelled of sweet, fragrant soap. He inhaled deeply and then relaxed back against his pillow. “’Night, Claire,” he whispered and listened for her soft reply.

“Goodnight, Nick.”

***

Chapter 19


AN: MAJOR props go out to Carrie for writing this next segment! I wanted to write a part with them actually in church, but I’m not Catholic and wouldn’t have known what to write and probably would have messed it up if I had tried, so I just decided not to, but then I mentioned that to Carrie in an email, and she was like, “Oh, you could have asked me for ideas, I’m Catholic,” and I was like, “Hm…” and that led to her actually writing a part for me! Thank you so much, Carrie, you rock!!

Also, big thanks to Mary for her ideas for later in this chapter!


Nick shifted his weight uncomfortably in the wooden pew. He had followed Claire and her family into the church like a lost puppy and awkwardly attempted to follow Claire’s actions when she genuflected on one knee before entering the seats. It was one of the nearly impossible things for Nick to try and balance his weight on his artificial limb while kneeling down on his good one.

They stood for the entrance hymn and then sat down when a woman approached the altar and read two different passages from the Bible. Once she finished, a small song was sung, and they stood up again as the priest took his place behind the lectern.

Nick leaned over to Claire. “How many more times do we go from sitting to standing?”

Claire shot Nick a stern look as she placed a finger over her lips. Then she grinned and whispered, “Just wait until we kneel.”

***

“Okay, so how bad was it?”

Claire asked the question as soon as Nick had shut the door on the passenger side of her car, which was parked in lot of the church. They had just gotten out of Sunday Mass and said goodbye to her parents, who had driven in a separate car.

Nick shrugged. “It was fine…”

“Be honest,” Claire said, smirking over at him.

He sighed and gave her a look. “Well, it wasn’t bad. I just felt, I dunno, kinda out of place. And all that sitting and standing and kneeling… man...”

She stifled a giggle and nodded, understanding completely. She’d been able to tell. It was pretty obvious he was not someone who set foot inside a church often, especially a Catholic one, and she almost wished they hadn’t gone. But her parents went every week, and during her youth, she’d gone every week too, so she knew her parents had wanted her to come with them this Sunday.

“Well, thanks for coming with me,” she told Nick sincerely. “You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.”

“Hey, no problem,” he smiled over at her and added with a shrug, “I feel like a better person for going at least.”

She laughed. “Me too. It’s been awhile since I’ve been to church. I should probably go more often, but…” She trailed off, mimicking his shrug. She did sometimes feel guilty for not attending Mass more often than she did, for she certainly had a lot to thank God for. But as Sunday was one of her only days to sleep in, church just didn’t happen for her most weeks.

Realizing that they’d just been sitting there for a couple of minutes, and that the car was quite stuffy inside, she quickly stuck her key into the ignition and turned on the engine, blasting the air conditioner. She put the car into reverse and backed out of her space, joining the line of cars trying to get out of the lot.

“I think I’m going to talk to my parents as soon as we get back,” Claire said, as they sped down the highway. “I’ll do that while you’re changing clothes… hopefully it won’t take long. I mean, my decision’s pretty much made… I’m just gonna tell them and hope they can accept that.” She bit her lip, hoping with all her might that they would.

After talking with Nick the other day, she was ready to let go of her own doubts and move in with him, taking their relationship to a new level. And now that the decision was made, she was set on it. It wasn’t like anyone could forbid her from doing it; it had been years since she’d had to follow her parents’ rules. But at the same time, she hated to disappoint them. She owed them more than that.

All her life, she’d been “the difficult child” of the family. Kyle, the oldest, had always been mellow, good-natured, responsible, and for the most part, agreeable. As a child, her mother had described him as “well-behaved,” and his teenage years had been pretty smooth-sailing, compared to some. She, on the other hand, had been quite the opposite. She knew she had not been a “bad” kid, but she’d always been stubborn and strong-willed, the kind of person who liked to test other people’s limits. She’d been the child who threw horrible temper tantrums and refused to stay in time-out and, years later, the teenager who rebelled, getting into screaming fights with her mother, breaking the curfew her father had set for her, doing seemingly outrageous things just to get a reaction.

Looking back, she chalked it all up to birth order. Kyle was the firstborn, and she was the baby, and they both had filled the stereotypical roles quite well.

College had helped a little, for even though she hadn’t gone far from home, she had insisted upon living in the dorms on campus, hoping to get some freedom from her parents. That had helped to make her more independent and mature, and once she was out from under her parents’ roof, she’d actually gotten closer to both of them. She’d always been more of a “Daddy’s Girl,” but after her first year of college, she found herself bonding with her mother, whom she’d constantly battled with throughout most of her high school years, as well.

But the thing that had really transformed her from difficult teenager to sensible adult was, of course, the diagnosis of her leukemia. It was a horrible disease, but she had to admit, some good things had come from it. She had grown up, calmed down, and learned what was really important in life. She’d found out who her true friends were and discovered that no one was more important than her family, who had been with her through it all.

It was all past her now (she hoped), but those effects lingered, and after everything she’d both intentionally and unintentionally put her parents through, she now found herself just wanting to make them happy, to make up for all the grief she’d caused them in years past. But at the same time, she wanted to make Nick happy too… and herself; she couldn’t forget her own happiness.

What had seemed so simple in Nick’s eyes was turning into a confusing mess for her. At this point, all she wanted to do was get home, get the conversation with her parents over with, and hope for the best.

***

As soon as they got back to her parents’ house, Claire slipped out of her black skirt and stretchy top, trading the dress clothes for a comfy pair of shorts and a tank top. Leaving Nick to change in the bedroom, she walked down the hall to her parents’ room and knocked lightly on the door. After a moment, she heard her father call, “Come on in!”

She opened the door and poked her head in. Her dad was sitting on the bed, having already changed out of his church clothes as well, switching his black dress socks with the plain old white socks he usually wore. Her mother came out of the bathroom right as Claire came in and smiled when she saw Claire. “Hey, honey, what’s up?” she asked her daughter.

“I just wanted to talk to you guys about something,” said Claire, coming into the bedroom and closing the door behind her. She was about to flop down onto the bed, just as she had when she was a little girl, to watch in wide-eyed wonderment as her mother breezed around the room, getting ready for a night out on the town with her father, or maybe just to talk. But, now an adult, she thought better of it and sank down into an armchair across from the bed instead, facing her father. It just seemed more grown up that way; she couldn’t quite imagine them taking her seriously when she announced her plans to move in with Nick while sprawled out on her stomach on top of their bed, her legs in the air behind her, ankles criss-crossed.

So she crossed her legs like a lady and waited while her mother perched on the edge of the bed, beside her father. “What do you want to talk about?” she asked, folding her hands.

“Well…” Claire hesitated, wondering if there was any certain way she should begin this. Finally, she decided to just get to the point. “Nick and I want to move in together.”

She watched her parents’ faces closely. Her father frowned slightly, but her mother was slowly nodding. “You mean you want to move into his place?”

Claire nodded. “Yeah. Into his place.”

“So this means you two are pretty serious then? This is more than just a fling?”

Claire smiled. “Yes, Mom… I think it’s always been more than just a ‘fling’.” The word ‘fling’ somehow just didn’t fit with her and Nick… not when they’d met during a chemotherapy treatment, exchanged their first “I love you’s” in a hospital room, and officially “hooked up” when Nick was still recovering from life-threatening lung surgery. And after nearly five months together, there was no doubting it – they were serious.

“Well, are ya gonna marry him?” Her father spoke for the first time, simply raising his eyebrows in her direction.

She smiled again, though awkwardly this time, and shrugged. “Maybe. Who knows? Personally, I think it’s a little soon for that, but-“

Her father nodded vigorously, his head bobbing up and down almost like one of those stupid drinking birds. “I agree – too soon.”

She put her hand over her mouth to hide a smirk. Her dad was a very kind man, but when it came to his kids, her especially, he could be so overprotective, to the point of driving her nuts. Jamie was the only boyfriend of hers he had ever gotten used to, even grown to like after awhile. She had a sneaking suspicion that the fact that Jamie had been a soccer star in high school, leading the school team to second place in their division for the state senior year, didn’t hurt – like her brother, her father was a sports fanatic. She’d always tended to avoid jocks though, except for Jamie, who, despite his soccer talent, hardly qualified as a “jock” in her eyes. She preferred… mascots? Uh, no. Then again, she’d never thought much of pop stars either, and look who she was with now.

“Well, we’re definitely not getting married now,” Claire reassured her father, “but we would like to live together.” She paused, then went on quickly, “If you think about it, it makes so much more sense to do it that way. I mean, if we were to discuss marriage in the future – and we’re not… I mean, that hasn’t come up at all… just being hypothetical here – we’d already know exactly what we were getting into, if we’d already lived together.”

“Your brother and Amber didn’t live together before they were married, and they have a wonderful marriage,” her father pointed out.

Claire gave him a look. “I’m not Kyle,” she said firmly.

“Kris,” her mother stepped in, touching her dad’s arm. “She has a point, you know. And I really don’t think this is something we have a say in… Claire’s an adult now, and this is her decision to make.” Looking back at Claire, she added, “But thank you for coming to us before you made it.”

Claire nodded, smiling faintly. She could feel happiness bubbling up inside her – her parents hadn’t freaked out; she was going to be moving in with Nick.

She looked at her father, hoping for an encouraging sign from him. Her mother seemed to be fine with the decision, but she knew he was less than enthusiastic about it.

“Dad?” she asked gently.

He gave her a little smile. “I guess your mom’s right,” he said. “If you want to move in with him, it’s your decision. And if you think it’s the right step to take, then I trust your judgment.”

That was all she wanted to hear. Smiling, she slid off the chair and went over to hug him. “Thanks, Daddy,” she said, patting his back.

“I suppose you’ll need help moving all of your stuff out of your apartment and into his house?” he asked, when she pulled back.

“Um, yeah... probably.”

He nodded. “Well, if you do it over a weekend, I can come down and help. Your brother could help too.”

“Thanks, that would be great. I’ll have to talk to Nick and figure out when a good time would be to do all this. I’ll definitely wait till at least the end of the month, so I can pay my last month’s rent, but maybe we could do it like the first weekend in June or something?”

He nodded. “Well, you talk to Nick and let me know, and I’ll plan to drive down when you need me.”

“I will,” she said. “Thanks again, Dad.” Another rush of excitement soaring through her at the realization that this was really happening, she gushed, “I’m gonna go find Nick,” and scurried out of the room to tell him the good news.

***

Nick was overjoyed. After all the drama and worry of the past week, the decision had finally been made, and there was no changing her mind now – Claire was moving in. He was anxious to get home and start getting his house ready for her… even though she wouldn’t actually be making the move for another two weeks at least. Still, he wanted to be prepared. He had decided that he was ready to move back into the master bedroom upstairs, rather than stay in the guest bedroom downstairs he’d been using for the past year, so that he wouldn’t have to go upstairs. But he could navigate stairs well enough by now that it wouldn’t be much of a hassle. It would be worth it to have the larger, nicer bedroom upstairs to share with Claire, and he had promised her the use of the jacuzzi in the master bath.

While he stood behind Claire’s car, waiting for her to bring out her suitcase for him to load into the open trunk and thinking about what all he could do to the house before she moved in, the front door opened, and Claire’s father appeared on the front stoop. “Nick!” he called, beckoning to Nick. “Come over here; I want to have a word with you.”

Nick walked over, feeling slightly intimidated as he stepped up to the older man.

“I just wanted to tell you… I know Claire likes you a lot, and you seem like a real nice kid. But… you make sure you treat her right, you understand? If you step out of line with my little girl…”

Nick shook his head quickly, wide-eyed. “Oh, no, sir,” he interrupted, “I would never do anything to hurt Claire!” He paused for a minute and then added, “I love her.” This could have been either the right or the very wrong thing to say, but luckily, Kris Ryan’s face relaxed, and he smiled.

“Good.” Stepping forward, he clamped his hand down on Nick’s shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze. “I figured I wouldn’t need to say that to you, but it’s a ‘dad’ thing, you know. If you ever have a daughter someday, you’ll understand.”

Nick nodded vaguely, and all of a sudden, he couldn’t help but think of Elaina. Leah’s daughter, the baby he’d thought was his up until just over two months before she was born. He’d seen her just once, at a chance meeting with Leah and her fiancée (probably husband by now) at a grocery store last year, but he still remembered her face, so sweet and angelic, and her features, blonde hair and blue eyes, just like her mother. She’d be over a year old by now…

His thoughts were interrupted when the front door swung open and out came Claire, walking lopsidedly with her heavy overnight bag slung over one shoulder.

“You want me to get that?” he offered, holding out his hand, but she shook her head.

“Nah, I got it, thanks,” she replied, carrying it out to her trunk. When she had dumped it in alongside his bag, she came back up to the front stoop to join Nick and Kris, and now the rest of the family, who had come out to say goodbye to her and Nick. He said goodbye to Kyle and Amber, who would be leaving shortly after they did, while Claire hugged her parents, and then stepped back so she could tell her brother goodbye as well.

“Thanks for having us for the weekend,” he said politely to her parents, shaking Kris’s hand and returning the kind smile Carrie gave him.

“Oh, we were glad to have you. Thanks for coming up with Claire, Nick. It was so good to see you again,” replied Carrie, making him feel both welcomed and accepted. It was a nice feeling.

“I guess I’ll see you again in a couple of weeks, when we get Claire moved in,” Kris added, and Nick couldn’t help but notice that although the older man smiled, the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was not hard to figure out that he was not exactly thrilled about Claire’s decision to move into Nick’s home. But Nick tried not to dwell on that too much, hoping it was only his paternal overprotective nature and not a personal thing.

Nick nodded. “Yep, I’ll see you then,” he replied.

He couldn’t help but feel slightly relieved when he heard Claire say, “Well, we better head off now. I wanna get on the road and get home before too long.” They walked to the car and got in, waving to the family as Claire backed out of the driveway. Only when she had turned off of their street did Claire turn to Nick and ask, “So what was my dad talking to you about when I came outside just a few minutes ago?”

Nick smirked. “Eh, nothing much.”

“Was he giving you crap about me moving in with you?”

Nick chuckled, wondering what he was supposed to say to that. In defense of her father, he simply replied, “No… he was just being a dad.”

They left it at that.

***

Chapter 20

Before she went to bed that night, Claire decided to make a phone call. Sitting cross-legged in the center of her bed, she scrolled through the list of contacts on her cell phone, stopping near the center of the list when she came to his name. She punched the button to call him and put the phone to her ear, waiting while it rang. Just when she was afraid she was going to get his voicemail, he answered with a deep, “Hey… Claire?”

She smiled. It was good to hear his voice. “Hey, Jamie,” she said.

“What’s up?”

“Not much… getting ready to go to bed here. I spent the weekend in Gainesville visiting my parents. How about you?”

“Same. Just catching the sports highlights before I head to bed.”

“Cool.” She paused. “Cubs win today?”

He groaned. “No. They got their asses kicked.”

Shaking her head, she had to smile to herself. Having grown up in the Midwest, before moving to Tampa at the beginning of high school, Jamie had always been a die-hard fan of the Chicago Cubs. She remembered how frustrated he used to get by the lack of Cubs baseball games that were broadcast in Florida – the only games he got to see his team play in were the ones against the Florida Marlins or the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, which he and she would watch together, each rooting for the opposite team.

She missed those days, having him live close by. But his parents had moved back to Iowa five years after his father had been transferred to Tampa, and after college, he’d moved back too. She saw him maybe once or twice a year now, but tried to keep in touch. He was one of the only high school friends she did still keep in touch with – him and Dianna, of course. She didn’t want to lose that.

“Oh. Darn,” she said of the Cubs’ loss, attempting to make herself sound at least slightly sympathetic. Then, deciding she had better get to the point before she inadvertently spent all night on the phone with him, talking about nothing, she went on, “So, James, the reason I’m calling is to address a certain rumor I heard yesterday…”

“Which is…?”

“According to my brother, your brother said you’re coming down here next weekend. True story?”

He chuckled. “Possibly…. Damn him, it was supposed to be a secret! I was hoping I could surprise ya.”

She grinned. “That’s what Kyle said!” she exclaimed happily, then quickly added, “But I don’t think Brad told him that part. Just a guess to explain why you hadn’t mentioned it to me yet.”

“Aw, what, did you think I would fly down there and not meet up with you?”

“Well, I would certainly hope not!” she replied with exaggerated outrage at the mere idea of it. Her voice softening, she added, “So, when are you coming? I can still act surprised…”

He laughed. “My plane gets in Friday night. I’ve got a week of vacation from work, so I thought I’d head down and hang out for a few days. It’ll be nice to get away…”

She heard a trace of melancholy in his voice and frowned. “How are things up there?” she asked. “How’s your mom doing?” She knew he’d been having a tough time ever since the death of his father the previous December. His mother, who had been uptight and slightly neurotic to begin with, was apparently not handling her husband’s death well. From what Jamie told Claire, his mom was falling apart, and as he was the only of her two sons who lived close by, it was up to him to hold her together. Claire felt bad for him and figured he was right – hopefully a few days hanging out with old friends in Florida would do him some good.

He sighed on the other end of the line. “She’s… you know… struggling. But she’s hangin’ in there.” That was all he said, and it was clear he didn’t really want to talk about it. She didn’t blame him, although she wished he’d open up to her more. Jamie was a lot like Nick in that respect… he was the type to hold everything in, bottle up his emotions until they burst, and that was never a pleasant scene to witness.

“Aw…” Claire sighed softly, wishing she had something better to say. “Tell her… tell her I said hi.”

“I will,” Jamie promised, though he would probably forget to. She supposed it didn’t really matter.

She could tell the conversation was close to dying, so she said, “Well, I better let you go so you can finish watching your sports. I’m gonna go to bed… gotta get up for work tomorrow.”

“Yep,” he said. “Me too.”

“How’s the job these days?”

“Fine. Little boring. I’m thinking about maybe looking for a job somewhere else.”

“You mean doing the same thing somewhere else, or are you talking career change?” she asked. Jamie was an actuary… which, basically, was a “risk management” person, someone who evaluated the likelihood of future events, everything from natural disasters to financial ones. She didn’t know much more than that, just that it required a lot of math, which he’d always been good at (she’d appreciated having him as a boyfriend when she’d struggled her way through a calculus class her senior year of high school). He’d gotten a job right out of college at a corporation based in Des Moines, and he’d been there for a few years, but from what she gathered, he was getting sick of it. He spent his days sitting in a cubicle, doing office work, and she knew he wanted a little more excitement than that, a job that wasn’t the same from day to day.

“No, same career, just different job,” he replied. “There’s lots of other options...”

“You should look into them,” she said encouragingly. “Find a job you love.”

“I think I’m going to,” he agreed. “But listen, I don’t want to keep you up. I’ll talk to you later in the week, and we can plan a time to get together on Saturday or something, okay?”

“Sounds good,” she replied. “Goodnight, Jamie.”

“’Night, Clairie.”

Smiling at the name he used to call her (who else would think ‘Clairie’ sounded good?), she ended the call and set her phone down on the nightstand beside her bed, plugging it in to charge for the night. Then she pulled back the bedcovers and slid into bed, reaching out to turn off the lamp beside her before she lay down and closed her eyes.

***

Nick adjusted the collar on his Armani shirt and smoothed the thighs of his designer jeans before stepping back to scrutinize himself in the full-length mirror. He scowled at his reflection for a few seconds before reaching up to half-heartedly twist a spiky piece of his gelled blonde hair back into place. Then he reached into the front pocket of his shirt and pulled out a pair of amber-tinted sunglasses. He slipped them on and looked back at his reflection. Sunglasses on or off? He certainly didn’t need them; the sun had already gone down. Off. He let them slide down the bridge of his nose and peered at himself over the tops of the rims. Then again, they did make him look cool. On. He pushed them back into place, nodded once at his mirror image, and then removed the glasses again with one quick swipe, tucking them securely back into his front pocket.

He heard his cell phone ringing in the bedroom and quickly ducked out of the bathroom, flipping off the light on the way out. He grabbed his phone off his bed and glanced at the caller ID before answering. It was Claire.

He quickly tapped the button to answer the call and put the phone to his ear. “Hey, baby,” he said in his sexiest voice.

“Hey baby yourself,” she replied. He smiled, knowing she was doing the same on the other line. He could tell by her voice. “Are you on your way over?” she asked. “I don’t want to make Jamie wait.”

Nick rolled his eyes, but answered, “Yeah, I’ll be at your place in a few.” Only if I drive like a bat out of hell, he added inwardly, glancing at the clock. So much for one last check in the mirror; this was going to have to do. Shoving his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans and grabbing his keys, he walked out into his sprawling garage, still talking to Claire.

“Well, I’ll let you drive,” she was saying. “See you in a few.”

“Alright,” he said, as he looked over his selection of cars, wondering which one to take that night. “Bye, baby.” Ending the call and sliding his miniature silver phone into another jeans pocket, he settled on his black BMW, one of his most expensive vehicles. Claire preferred the silver Jag, but he didn’t care – tonight, he felt like showing off.

Tonight, he’d be meeting the infamous Jamie.

Jamie had apparently flown in that evening, and Claire had wasted no time in making plans to meet up with him and Dianna for drinks later that night. Nick supposed he should be glad Claire had invited him along too, but he was not looking forward to it at all. He knew Claire and Jamie were just old friends now, but he couldn’t quite let go of the fact that they’d also dated. He was not just meeting another one of her old high school friends; he was meeting her ex. He wasn’t sure why that bothered him so much, but it did, and he couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about the whole thing.

Still, he knew he couldn’t refuse to go, so he’d grudgingly agreed, and now here he was, dressed to impress and sliding into the driver’s seat of his best ride to go pick up Claire.

He tried to drive fast, but “a few” still ended up taking longer than… well, a few. When Claire hopped into the passenger’s seat, though, she was all smiles. She planted a kiss on his cheek and then directed him to the bar she’d told Jamie to meet them at, leaning slightly forward in anticipation the entire way there.

“Have you been here before?” Nick asked, parking the car in the lot of Invidia, a new bar that had opened recently.

“Just once. Di and I came here on a Friday night, like the week after it opened,” said Claire. “Probably kind of a mistake, cause the place was packed, but hopefully it’s calmed down a little since then.”

When they got into the building, Nick was relieved to see that it had apparently ‘calmed down.’ It was busy, but not too crowded.

“Are they here yet?” Nick asked, raising his voice above the loud music and the clinking of glasses. Claire craned her neck, looking around for Dianna or Jamie. Nick took a half-assed glance around the room as well, but didn’t see anyone that resembled Dianna. He realized he’d never seen a picture of Jamie, so he didn’t even know who he was looking for there.

“Oh!” said Claire suddenly. “Over there! C’mon.” She grabbed his hand and led the way over to a booth along one wall, where a dark-haired guy was sitting by himself. He looked up when they got within a few feet of him and smiled slightly, holding up his hand in a short little wave.

“Hey!” Claire said brightly, stopping at the table. “You beat us here.”

He nodded. “I did.” Breaking into a grin, he slid out of the booth and stood up to hug her, inadvertently (or maybe on purpose?) breaking her handhold with Nick in the process. Nick hung back, watching as the two of them hugged each other tightly. He was relieved to see that they hugged about the same as he did with the other guys – just as friends, buddies, nothing more.

When Claire pulled back from the hug, she reached for Nick’s hand again and said, “Nick, meet Jamie Turner. Jamie – Nick.”

With his free right hand, Nick reached out and shook the other man’s hand, sizing him up the entire time. He was pleased to see that he had a few inches and a good thirty pounds or so on Jamie, but he had to admit, by a woman’s standards, Jamie would probably be considered ‘attractive.’ His dark brown hair was thick and wavy, grown just long enough to form loose curls, and his chin was lined in a layer of dark stubble. His eyes were large and very blue. Nick wondered if they were really that blue, or if he was wearing contacts.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Jamie said with a polite nod.

“You too, man,” echoed Nick automatically.

They sat down, Jamie returning to his side of the booth, and Nick immediately sitting down on the other side. Claire slid in next to him and propped her elbows up on the table. “So how was your flight down here?” she asked Jamie, leaning across the tabletop to talk to him.

“It was fine,” replied Jamie and then smirked, one side of his mouth turning up as he added, “No snow delays this time.” He glanced briefly at Nick before turning his eyes back to Claire.

She laughed. “Well, it wouldn’t surprise me if there had been – you and your crazy weather up North!”

He snickered. “Right. Snow in May. Even for Iowa, that’s a stretch.”

“You would love it though,” Claire teased. Looking over at Nick, she tipped her head in Jamie’s direction and said, “He loves cold weather. He’s insane.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you guys don’t miss seeing snow, living in Florida,” said Jamie. “I know I missed it, when I was living down here.”

“Can’t miss it if you’ve always been without it,” Claire countered with a shrug and a smile. “Nick and I… we’re both Florida kids, born and bred. We love the heat.”

“Technically I was born in New York,” offered Nick, “but yeah, we love the heat.”

Claire looked over at him. “I didn’t know you were born in New York,” she said. “I though you’d lived around this area your whole life.”

“Most of it,” smiled Nick. “But no, I was born in Jamestown, New York.”

“Ya learn something new every day, huh Claire?” spoke up Jamie, his eyes twinkling with amusement as they shifted from Nick to her.

“Guess so,” shrugged Claire and looked down at the small silver watch on her wrist. “Looks like Dianna’s ‘fashionably late,’ as usual.”

Jamie chuckled. “Some things never change, huh?”

Claire smiled and rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “That’s for sure.”

***

It was very late by the time Nick and Claire returned to the black BMW, which Nick had parked in the very back of the lot. He was regretting that now, after stumbling across what had seemed like a mile of blacktop just to get to it.

“I’ll park closer next time,” he laughed, the black sports car swimming before his eyes as he pointed his key ring at it with an unsteady hand, his thumb missing the button to unlock the car doors.

“Give me that,” Claire said in exasperation when he missed the button a second time, instead pushing one that made the horn honk and the lights start flashing. She took the keys from him and pushed the correct button, unlocking the doors with an audible click. “You take shotgun; I’m driving,” she said firmly.

Nick did not argue. He knew he was in no condition to drive. Even though they had gone out for drinks, he had planned to go light on the alcohol, knowing he’d be responsible for driving Claire (and himself) home later. Instead, it was Claire, Jamie, and Dianna (who had finally arrived – ‘fashionably late,’ as Claire put it) who had gone light on the drinks, while Nick had ended up more than a little tipsy. It was hard not to keep ordering drinks when that was really all he had to do – he certainly hadn’t contributed much to the other three’s conversations, for even Claire’s attempts at including him hadn’t changed the fact that he felt totally out of place with her and her old high school friends. The three of them had been friends since long before Claire had met Nick, and he simply was not a part of the history they shared and never would be. So he had listened rather than talked, and drank while the others swapped stories and old memories that were meaningless to him.

He climbed awkwardly into the front passenger’s seat while Claire got behind the wheel, leaning over to find the ignition. She stuck his key in and turned on the engine, letting out a little giggle of glee when the car sprang to life. “I should take you out and get you drunk more often; this is fun!” she joked, happily shifting the BMW into drive.

Nick laughed. “Glad you’re having fun, baby.”

“How about you?” Claire asked, pulling forward out of the parking space. “Did you have an okay time? I hope you didn’t feel left out…”

“Nah, ‘s cool,” said Nick, his feelings of not belonging long gone by now. “I had a good time.”

“Good,” she said, glancing over at him just long enough to give him a quick smile before she pulled out onto the highway. He fiddled with the radio while she drove, singing along to any song he knew. Every now and then, she would join in, and he would laugh – even drunk, his voice was a thousand times more in tune than hers would ever be.

“She packed my bags last night, pre-flight… zero hour, nine a.m.… and I’m gonna be hiiiiigh as a kite by then,” he warbled at the top of his lungs.

“Since when are you into Lite Rock?” Claire asked, laughing at the station he’d stopped on.

“Elton John’s not lite rock; he’s legend,” Nick stopped singing long enough to say. “And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time till touch down brings me round again to find, I’m not the man they think I am at home, oh no no no… I’m a rocket man… rocket man, burning out his fuse up here alone…”

Impulsively, he reached out and swatted the tuner again, landing on a station that played 80’s pop songs. A Michael Jackson song that he remembered from his childhood was playing, and he tentatively joined in, singing forgotten lyrics about a beat behind Michael. “I like the feelin’ you’re givin’ me… just hold me baby and I’m in ecstasy… oh I’ll be workin’ from nine to five… to buy you things to keep you by my side…”

Claire giggled. “You do Jacko very well,” she put in.

He grinned and did a quick high-pitched “Aaow!”, grabbing his crotch with one hand while he thrust the other straight up, accidentally smacking it against the roof of the car. “Ow,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his hand before shrugging and jumping back in for the chorus of the song. “Cause you’re the one for me, the way you make me feel (the way you make me feel), you really turn me on (you really turn me on), you knock me off of my feet now baby – hee! My lonely days are gone (my lonely days are gone)…

“Go on girl!” he echoed as Michael did it in the song. “Hee-hee!”

Claire burst out laughing. “Oh man, this is classic…. I stand by what I said before – you’re fun when you’re drunk!”

“Aaow!”

When they made it back to Claire’s apartment, Claire swung Nick’s car into the empty spot next to hers and put it in park. Turning down the radio, she looked over at him and said, “I don’t want you to drive home. You wanna just crash here?”

He shrugged and then nodded agreeably. “Okay.” Sleep alone at home or with Claire here? It wasn’t a hard choice to make, especially in the state he was in.

“Great,” Claire said, looking relieved as she unbuckled her seatbelt. She shut off the engine and took his keys out of the ignition, keeping them in her hand as she got out of the car and came around to his side, just in time to see him tripping out of his seat. Whoops. Holding onto the car, Nick got his balance on the ground and then shut his door. “Ready?” Claire asked, a hint of a smirk tugging on her lips in amusement at his lack of coordination.

“Ready,” he said, weaving behind her as she walked up to the front door of her apartment building. He groaned at the sight of the stairs that greeted him forebodingly inside.

Apparently hearing his groan, Claire let out a little chuckle. “Well now, this could be tricky, huh?” she commented, looking up the staircase and then over at him. “Come on, we’ll go slow.” Slinging an arm around him, she walked him up the stairs, steadying him as he swayed drunkenly.

“What would I do without ya, Ren?” he muttered in sing-song fashion as they reached the top and started down the hall to her apartment.

“Probably break your good leg falling down my stairs, Stumpy,” she replied with an impish grin.

He laughed. “That would suck!”

“For sure,” she agreed, unlocking the door to her apartment and swinging it open. She let him in first and followed after, turning on lights behind him as he made his way into her living room and plopped himself down on her couch, the worn springs groaning under him. She sat down and scooted close to him, making herself comfortable in the slight dip in the center of the sunken couch. “So, Rocket Man, what shall we do now?” she asked, looking over at him. She had this sexy little smile on her face, and right then he knew exactly what he wanted to do. She was irresistible.

“Rocket Man thinks we should do a little ‘moonwalkin’,” he replied, waggling his eyebrows.

She looked at him for a moment and shook her head, snickering. “I think that line would have sounded a lot better to me if I was plastered too. But hey, it was a nice tie-in with the songs on the radio, so I’ll give it to ya.”

“Hey, whatever works,” he said with a grin, eagerly pulling her in for a kiss. She kissed back with a hunger that surprised him and left him craving more. “Aaow!” he exclaimed in his high-pitched Michael impression when they broke the kiss, expecting to get a laugh.

She did laugh… and then she said, “Okay seriously... no more of that. I do not want to imagine I’m making out with Michael Jackson here.”

He shuddered. “Ew…”

“Exactly. No more Jacko noises.”

He nodded solemnly. “No more.”

“Good boy.” She patted him on the head and then slid her arms around his neck, bringing her lips back to his.

***


Lyrics: “Rocket Man” by Elton John, “The Way You Make Me Feel” by Michael Jackson

[AN: totally random song choices – “Rocket Man” was what was in my head at the time, and any MJ song with a lot of “hee-hee”s in it amuses me… so don’t look for any hidden meanings in that part (except I did use the line that included the words “by my side,” just for the heck of it) ;-D ]

Chapter 21

Nick awoke with a start the next morning, realizing he was not in his room. A quick look around told him he was not even in his house. But as he pulled back the cloud-patterned comforter and sat up, the memory of the previous night came back, right along with a splitting headache Groaning, he lay back down in what he had realized was Claire’s bed. He was in Claire’s room, in Claire’s apartment, and now he remembered why. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to fight away the effects of a hangover from last night’s drinking, and then opened them again, turning his head on the pillows to look over to the other side of the bed, which Claire had occupied the night before. But it was clearly morning now, and she was not there anymore.

With a moan, he raised his head, willing his body to sit up again. He could not lie around in her bed all day – she was probably already out in the other room, waiting for him to get up. As he moved, he was distracted by a crinkling sound. Looking down, he was surprised to find a small piece of paper lying on his chest. On closer inspection, it was a note, penned in Claire’s small, round handwriting, and it was actually stuck to his chest with a smiley face sticker. The sticker – and the note – were upside down, he noticed. Reaching down to pick it up, he realized why – she’d put it that way so that he could tip the note up and read it without even pulling it off of him. He had to smile at that. Clever, Claire… real clever. So he did just that, tipping the piece of paper up from its bottom and reading the short note she’d left for him.

Nick~

Jamie came by this morning and we walked to the park down the street. He brought donuts over for breakfast too – there’s still a couple left, on the counter in the kitchen. Help yourself. I’ll see ya later!

XOXOXO
Claire

The smile left Nick’s face as he let the small piece of paper drop. So she was already out with Jamie? Great. Just wonderful. He supposed he should be angry with himself for sleeping late and completely missing her, but he found himself annoyed with Jamie instead, for coming over to get her while he slept, oblivious to it all.

With a heavy sigh, he sat up, deciding he might as well just go. He wanted to get home, take some aspirin for his headache, and crash in his own bed. Climbing out of Claire’s, he hurriedly put on his artificial leg and then pulled on his rumpled jeans, which he’d found laying in a heap with the rest of his clothes on the floor. Before putting his shirt back on, he ripped Claire’s note off his bare chest, wincing as a few hairs came off with the sticker, and started to crumple it up, then stopped. He folded it instead and jammed it into his pocket.

When he had finished getting dressed, he left the bedroom and walked out into the main room of the apartment. In the kitchen, he found his car keys, sitting next to the small notepad she’d used to write his note. Picking up the teal ink pen lying beside the notepad, he scrawled a quick message to her.

Claire,

Sorry I missed ya this morning… heading home to sleep now… catch you later I hope.

Love ya,
Nick

Setting the pen back down, he noticed a white bakery bag lying on the other side of the counter and went over to peek. There were two donuts inside, and he remembered Claire’s note. Help yourself. Shrugging, he reached in and pulled out a jelly-filled one covered in powdered sugar. He bit into it, stopping to savor its sweetness, and then tucked it into a napkin. Grabbing his keys, he walked out of the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

Taking another bite of his donut, he slowly descended down the stairs and went outside, holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the bright morning sunlight. He found his car right where she’d left it the night before, parked next to her Toyota. He pressed a button on his keychain to unlock the doors and then climbed in, tucking his half-eaten donut into one of the cup-holders. He started the car and immediately put down his windows to cool the stuffy interior until the air conditioning kicked in. Then he backed slowly out of the parking space, watching over his shoulder to be sure that he did not bump one of the other cars in the small, cramped lot.

When he finally pulled away from the apartment complex, he drove down the street slowly, eyes trained on the park that was coming up on his right. He’d hardly noticed it before, but now his eyes poured over the green oasis, tucked so neatly in the midst of rows of old houses and small apartment buildings like Claire’s. Located at the intersection of Claire’s street and another, the park stretched across two large lots. It was dotted with tall, leafy trees – good for climbing, Nick thought – and on one end, there was a small playground, at which a few children played while watchful mothers sat supervising on wooden benches. On the other side, there was a large grassy field, perfect for playing baseball in the spring, football in the fall. Several clusters of people played separately on it now - a trio of children stood in a wide circle, whipping a Frisbee between them; a man stooped low, carefully pitching a plastic Whiffle ball to his young daughter, who hovered over a tee-ball tee, clutching a big red bat in concentration. And off in one corner, he finally spotted Claire and Jamie, standing a few feet apart and facing each other.

Lurching to a stop at the intersection, Nick sat and watched as Jamie dribbled a soccer ball between his feet, kicking it expertly from one foot to the other. Then he slid the toe of his shoe carefully under the ball and lifted it up, balancing it on the end of his foot until he brought it high enough to reach down and pick up. From there, he let it fall and caught it on one knee, bouncing it back up again. Over and over again he bounced it off his knee, never missing, never letting it fall.

“Fucking show off,” Nick muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing darkly as he saw Jamie give the ball a high bounce and then duck under it, bouncing it off his head when it came back down. He frowned when Claire clapped and trotted over to Jamie. Nick was too far away to hear what they were saying, but the exchange was brief; then Jamie repeated the trick and motioned for Claire to go back to her spot. She jogged a few feet away from him and turned to face him again. He caught the ball in his hands and drop-kicked it, sending it in a high arc to her. Nick watched as she got under it, just as Jamie had done, and tried to butt it up again with her head. Just as the ball went ricocheting crazily off the side of her head, he heard a honk behind him and glanced up into his rearview mirror to see that a car had come up behind him. The driver was probably wondering why he’d been stopped at the stop sign for at least a full minute.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” said Nick in irritation, releasing his foot from the brake and moving it over to the gas. The car took off slowly, and he focused on the road in front of him, refusing to let himself look back at Claire and Jamie, playing in the field like a couple of carefree kids. But he could not miss the unmistakable sound of her laugh in the distance, ringing through his open windows as he sulkily drove away.

***

When Nick got home, he downed a couple of pills for his headache and then headed straight to his bedroom. He stripped back out of his clothes, plugged in his prosthetic leg to re-charge for a few hours, and hopped into bed. He lay awake for nearly an hour, trying to chase away the images of Jamie and Claire in the park, before he finally fell asleep.

Even in sleep, he was haunted by Jamie and his stupid soccer ball… he dreamed he was standing alone in a soccer field, facing one of the goals, before which Jamie stood, guarding. There was a soccer ball lying at Nick’s feet, and he knew he had to kick it, past Jamie and into the goal. Claire was watching… he could see her sitting on a short set of metal bleachers, her hands clasped together in anticipation. He couldn’t let her down. Moving all of his weight to his artificial leg, he pulled his right leg back to kick the ball. He swung his foot forward, kicking hard, but before he even made contact with the ball, his prosthesis fell off, as if it had been effortlessly knocked out from under him, and he flew to he ground, landing hard on his ass with a dull thud. Yards away, in the goal box, Jamie laughed hysterically, while in the stands, Claire looked crestfallen.

Nick awoke feeling ashamed and embarrassed, and it took him a moment to get his bearings. He let out a breath as he pushed back the bedcovers, his body hot and damp with perspiration beneath them. Now he felt stupid. The dream seemed so silly and insignificant, like one a child would have, but Nick could not forget it. It was not the literal dream itself – his leg could not really fall off like that, and when would he ever be facing Jamie in a soccer match? – but the feelings that accommodated it… feelings of shame and unworthiness.

His logical side told him that it didn’t matter… Claire had already proven that she loved him, exactly the way he was, and she and Jamie had broken up years ago. She was with Nick now, not Jamie. So why did he doubt both himself and her feelings for him so much? Why, sitting there watching her and Jamie at the park, had he felt such a gnawing, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach?

There was another side of him that knew the answer to that question. Because, it told him, Jamie is physically perfect. He’s attractive, athletic… he’s got two legs… why would a woman want you when she could have him?

He knew these thoughts were probably ridiculous, but he couldn’t stop them from coming. Seeing Jamie show off for Claire like that had given him a strong desire to prove himself. How, he did not know. Learn to bounce a soccer ball off the knee of his C-Leg? Right. He’d once been fairly athletic, but it was hard to play most sports with only one real leg. He could shoot baskets, or throw a football, but he could not pivot with the agility he’d once had, or run to catch a pass or dribble down the court.

As that thought passed through his mind, he suddenly froze, focusing on one word. Run. That was something he could not yet do – he hadn’t run in over a year – but, according to his physical therapist Susan, it could be done. Up until now, he hadn’t tried, and even this very moment, he had his doubts. He could walk on the artificial limb almost without thinking by now, but running on it? That was an entirely different story. Still, filled with sudden motivation, he wanted to try. Would it be enough to contend with Jamie’s soccer talents? No, but at the very least, it would be a cool trick to show Claire and the guys, next time he saw them.

Physically, he was feeling better – sleep, coupled with the two aspirin he’d taken earlier, had cured his hangover – so he moved to the edge of the bed and reached for his prosthesis. He slid it on with practiced ease and gave it an extra pat. “Let’s see what you can do, huh?” he said, rising readily from the bed. He left his room and went out through the garage, stopping to grab his basketball off a dusty shelf before continuing out into the backyard. He let the basketball fall onto the grass and gave it a kick with the side of his good foot, just to prove that he could. It was not nearly as light as a soccer ball and not meant for kicking, but nevertheless, it rolled across the yard, and Nick remained upright, balancing solely on a foot that was not his own.

Smiling, he strode off through the grass, selecting a wide expanse where there was lots of room to run. Then he stopped and stood there for a moment, hands traveling to his hips as he deliberated on what to do next. It was weird, the realization that he actually had to think about how to run. Once it had seemed so effortless. You want to run? Then run. It was just something he did. But that was before he’d lost his leg, before he’d had to relearn to walk on nothing but a metal pylon where his left leg should have been. Now every move he made that was more complicated than taking a basic step required thought and special consideration, and even simply walking had been that way at first.

Running, though… it was basically just like fast walking, with an added bounce, right? He reasoned that he should be able to do it about like he had in the “before” days – just start walking, increase speed, and take off running. It sounded too easy, and he knew it would probably be harder than that, but he had to try, and that was the only way he knew how to get started.

Sucking in a determined breath, he set off at a fast walk. Taking a few swift steps, he did a little double bounce on his right foot to get him going and swung forward with his artificial leg, kicking his right foot back up as he landed. It felt awkward – more like skipping than running – and he stopped after just a few strides. Still, what he had been doing was more than walking, and he was sure he was on the right track – no pun intended. He took a few steps back to his original spot, ready to try again. He repeated the movements – a few steps, a little hop to get him off the ground, a swing forward, and he was going. Again, it felt awkward, and he was sure he looked foolish doing it, but he did not stop. As he gained speed, the movements began to feel more natural, and suddenly, he realized it – he was running. He was actually running.

Really it was more like jogging… or half-jogging, half-skipping, if you want to be technical about it. But to him, it was running, and he couldn’t have been more thrilled. He slowed down, taking a few steps before he stopped. He was surprised to find himself already winded by the short jog, but he figured that was to be expected – although he kept himself in decent shape, swimming and lifting weights, he hadn’t run in a long time. And he knew that it took a lot more energy to move on an artificial leg than it took to move on two real ones. Add that to the fact that half of his left lung had been taken out in December, and it was no wonder he was out of breath.

He was not going to let that stop him though. He paused to take a few breaths, then set off again in the opposite direction, jogging back to his starting point. The motions were easier that time, and he was sure that, like walking, he would get better at this with practice.

So practice he did.

For nearly an hour, he was out in the backyard, running in short spurts, stopping in between to catch his breath. He tried circling around the yard and found he could not keep running for more than a few minutes at a time before he was completely winded. But that, too, would improve with practice. For it being his first try, he was more than satisfied. He limped back into the air-conditioned house with a flushed face, sweat practically pouring off his skin, and an aching stump within the socket of his prosthesis. But his heart swelled with a sense of pride and accomplishment that made him overlook all of that. To anyone else, it might have seemed a small feat. But to him, it was huge.

Craving a shower to rinse his hot, sweat-streaked body, he headed straight for the bathroom. He shed his sticky clothes and pulled off his artificial leg, setting it aside so that he could wash out the inside of the socket later. He turned on the water in the shower, and within minutes, he was standing under a lukewarm spray, lightly grasping one of the grab bars that had been installed in the shower for support as he threw his head back and let the water wash over him in cooling cascades.

After his shower, he hopped back to his bedroom for clean clothes and, after changing into a t-shirt and shorts, went back into the bathroom, where he rubbed down the inside of his prosthesis with warm water and then dried it carefully. As he put the leg back on, the end of his stump throbbed a little, but he ignored it, figuring that was to be expected after running on it for the first time. But when he stepped forward on the prosthesis, sharp pains shot through the limb, causing him to wince. He immediately took his weight off of the artificial foot and waited a moment, frowning, before trying again. This time, he was expecting the pain, so it wasn’t quite as sharp or as shocking, but it did still hurt.

“Fuck,” he muttered through clenched teeth, wondering what he’d done to himself now. How could a little bit of running have caused all this pain? He considered taking the leg off, but although it would be more comfortable that way, he didn’t want to. He felt helpless without it, restricted to either using crutches – which he hated – or hopping on one foot – which he could only do for so long – to get around.

So he decided to grin and bear it, the way he had in Hawaii, and figured it would feel better after awhile.

It didn’t bother him much for the rest of the afternoon, but then again, he didn’t do a lot of walking around on it either. Instead, he sat around, watching a little TV, playing a little Nintendo, just relaxing. After exerting himself so much in the backyard earlier, he was worn out. But when his phone rang that evening, and he jumped up to get it, the sudden pain was so severe that he knew he couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed the phone and immediately sank down into a chair. He checked the caller ID and smiled through his discomfort when he saw that it was Claire. He punched the Talk button to take the call before his answering machine picked up and took a shaky breath before putting the phone to his ear and saying, “Hey, Claire.”

“Hey, Nick! What’s going on?”

“Not much,” he said dully. “What are you up to?”

“Just wanting to see if you wanna do something tonight.”

“You mean with Jamie? Or just you?”

“Just me,” she answered quickly. “Jamie went to hang out with his older brother who lives down here.”

“Oh, okay,” Nick said in relief, hoping he didn’t sound too happy that Jamie wasn’t going to be around. She always got along well with AJ, Howie, Brian, and Kevin, and he didn’t want her to think he didn’t like her friends. It wasn’t that at all… though he to admit, Jamie did make him uncomfortable. But he figured it was probably more his own mind than it was Jamie himself.

“So what do you feel like doing?” Claire’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Uh…” His eyes traveled down to his artificial leg, which he planned on removing as soon as he got off the phone with her. Yet there was no way in hell he was going to leave the house without it on, so he went on hesitantly, “Do you wanna just come over here and hang out? We could order in dinner, watch a movie…” He waited for her response, hoping she’d agree to a night in.

“Oh sure, that sounds good,” she replied, and he smiled with relief.

“Okay, cool. Just come over whenever you want to, and we’ll order food when you get here.”

“Okay. I’ll be over in a little bit then. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

They both hung up, and Nick stood up, wincing again as weight was put on the troublesome leg. He limped straight to his bedroom, where he did not hesitate in taking the leg off and trading it for his pair of rarely-used crutches, which stood propped up in a corner. He used the crutches to haul himself over to his bed, where he sat down and took his stump in his hands. Lifting it up a little, he leaned forward to look at the end of it. The skin there was quite red, and he was startled to see what looked like an open blister there. He grimaced and sighed aloud. “Great,” he muttered, “that’s all I need.”

Knowing he would not be able to put his leg back on that night, he covered the blister with a band-aid and then pulled a fresh prosthetic sock over the tender stump. Thoroughly discouraged, he hobbled back out to the living room on crutches to wait for Claire. He wondered what to tell her when she got there – he didn’t want to tell her what he’d been doing outside; he wanted to show her. But that obviously wouldn’t be happening now.

He let out another sigh. Nothing ever seemed to go the way he wanted it to.

The doorbell rang. He managed a smile. It was true – in the past two years, almost nothing had gone the way he wanted it to… except for Claire. She was the one thing that made it all seem worth it. Sometimes he wondered what his life would be like if she were not in it. Would he be happy? Or would he be miserable?

Or would he be alive at all?

He tried not to think about it as he rose from the couch and went to the door as quickly as he could on crutches. At the moment, all he wanted was to see her face, take her in his arms, and tell her how much he loved her.

Just that would be enough to make him forget about the stupid blister and the backfiring of his plan and the image of Jamie, bouncing that damn ball off his knee.

For the time being anyway.

***

Chapter 22

When Nick’s front door swung open, the first thing Claire noticed was that he was not wearing his prosthesis. Instead, he was leaning on a pair of crutches. It surprised her; she knew he didn’t often go without the artificial leg, usually only when he was sleeping, showering, or swimming.

“Hey,” she greeted him with a smile and then started to ask him about it, but before she could get another word out, he came out onto the front porch and surprised her again by pulling her into a hug. It was awkward, with the crutches tucked under his arms, but nevertheless, she returned the embrace, slipping her arms around him and holding him as he held her. She was slightly concerned about him – something didn’t seem quite right. Not that he didn’t hug her like this often, but usually there would be a hello before the hug.

Instead, all he said, his head bent so that his lips brushed the side of her neck before coming up to her ear, was “I love you.”

She pulled away just enough to see his face, her hands never leaving his back, and offered him a little smile that she was sure did not mask her apprehension. “I love you too,” she said, her voice higher than normal. “Are you okay?? Did something happen?” Reflexively, her eyes shot back down to his stump, which was covered by one of the sock things he usually wore over it when he was not wearing the prosthesis.

“Nah,” he said casually. “I just wanted you to know.”

Her smile felt more real this time, and she relaxed a little. “Aww… I do know, Nick. You know that.”

He nodded, smiling back. “I know. I just felt like telling you again.”

“Well, you know I love to hear it,” she teased him, as they headed into the house. “So,” she asked once inside, “why the crutches? Just felt like it, or…” She trailed off, shrugging, and watched him, waiting for his response.

He let out a little snort and gave her a sheepish look. She swore she could see a bit of a blush creeping up his cheeks, and she tipped her head at him questioningly, wondering what he’d done. Had he somehow broken the artificial leg? Could that happen? “Nick?” she asked, smiling a little despite her best efforts to hold it back. “What did you do?”

“Eh, it’s nothing,” he muttered, waving his hand as if to blow her off. “I think I just overdid it earlier… got a blister right here,” he said, gingerly touching the spot where his left leg ended.

“Oh,” she said, frowning. “That can’t feel too good. How did you get it? I mean, what were you doing?”

That same sheepish expression returned on his face, and after a pause, he answered her almost reluctantly. “I was… trying to run.”

Her eyes widened at him. “Really?” she asked, and again, she couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t seem to want to talk about it, but she was impressed, proud of him for even trying. She had no idea what it would be like to even walk, let alone run, with some computerized artificial leg in place of one of her own, but she knew it had to be hard. She couldn’t even imagine...

“Yeah,” he mumbled, looking down, and she watched as his lips curled up in the corners. He was trying to hide it, but he was obviously pleased with himself too.

“So,” she prodded, “how did it go?”

He looked back up, his eyes meeting hers as his smile took full form. “Well… I might of messed myself up a little,” he said, motioning to the stump, “but… I did it.”

She broke into a wide smile. “You did it??” she repeated excitedly. “You were running?!”

He nodded, and she let out a little squeal, impulsively throwing her arms back around him and almost knocking him over in the process. As he clung to her, regaining his balance, she cried, “Oh my God, that’s awesome, Nick! Totally awesome! I’m proud of you!”

“Thanks,” he said, looking slightly embarrassed. “I can’t show you though… not yet. It hurts to even walk on the old peg leg now, so I don’t think I’ll be trying to run on it again anytime soon.”

Her smile never faded. “That’s okay,” she said encouragingly, her hand on his shoulder. “You can show me when it gets better.”

He nodded again, as if promising he would, and then said, “C’mon, let’s go sit down. Are you hungry yet? We could order food…”

Laughing at his quick subject change, she nodded and followed him into the living room.

***

After dinner, a DVD, and some late night TV, it was after midnight, and Nick was getting tired. Beside him, Claire looked about ready to fall asleep, so they said goodnight, and she left. As he watched her taillights fade into the night, Nick smiled to himself. In a week, there would be no more saying goodbye and sending her home. In a week, this would be her home.

It was the last week of May, and she would be moving in with him on the fourth of June, which was the coming Saturday. She’d already let her landlord know she’d be moving out and paid her last month’s rent, and her father, who would be coming to help, along with Kyle, had rented a small U-Haul to bring over her belongings. Her smaller things would be moved into Nick’s house, but they had decided that the furniture would go back to Gainesville with her father to be stored.

As he hobbled back to his bedroom, ready to turn in for the night, Nick hoped his leg would be all healed by then. He didn’t expect it to be a problem though. It was just a blister, right? In a few days, it would be nothing but a memory.

***

When Nick awoke the next morning, he saw the crutches propped up beside his bed and remembered the blister instantly. Sitting up and throwing the covers back, he carefully peeled the sock off of his stump, eager to see if the blister had healed any overnight. When he wincingly pulled off the band-aid that had covered it, he was dismayed to find that the sore looked no better than it had the day before. Maybe even a little worse. The blister looked sort of like a small crater, round and open, bright red on the inside. The skin around it was red as well, and he hoped it wasn’t getting infected. He wondered if he had any cream to put on it; if not, he’d have to have Claire get some and bring it over, because there was no way he was leaving the house if he still could not put his leg on.

Hobbling into his bathroom, he rummaged through the cabinets until he came up with half-empty tube of Neosporin. He wasn’t sure how old it was, but it would do. Sinking down onto the closed toilet seat, he squirted a liberal amount of the antibiotic ointment onto his finger and smeared it over the blister, flinching as his fingertip made contact with the wound. Deciding he would need something bigger than a band-aid to put over the blister, now gooey with Neosporin, he got back up and did another search until he found what he was looking for – gauze bandages. He took one out of its package and taped it awkwardly over the end of his stump. Then, sighing, he rose again, hauling himself back to his bedroom to get dressed.

The rest of the day was spent much like the previous one – sitting around, lying around, bored out of his mind, with nothing to do and nowhere to go… nowhere that he felt comfortable going anyway. He didn’t hear from Claire until that evening and wondered what she’d been doing all day. Hanging out with Jamie again, perhaps? When he called her that night, she just said she had been running some errands and cleaning her apartment. “Gotta get things organized so I can start packing,” she’d told him cheerfully.

He wished she would come over and hang out with him again that night, but she said she was tired from running around all day and just wanted to stay home for the night. Besides, she’d reminded him, she had work in the morning.

So he called Howie instead, just to talk. Howie had offered earlier to come down to help Claire get moved in on Saturday, and when he confirmed that he was still planning to drive to Tampa that weekend, Nick was glad. They could use the extra help, especially if he was going to still be laid up like this on Saturday. Not that he was going to be. He was sure it would only take another day or two for this blister thing to clear up, and then he’d be back on his feet.

***

By the time work was over Monday afternoon, Claire was ready to get off her feet. The day had been a busy one, with back-to-back appointments all morning and most of the afternoon. She was more than ready to head home and kick back, hopefully get in a couple hours of relaxation before she had to think about more organizing and packing. It was amazing the amount of junk she could cram into such a small apartment, she had realized the day before, as she’d given the place a thorough cleaning and started going through her stuff. She wanted to get a start on packing early in the week, doing a little every day after work until Thursday and Friday, which she had taken off. Then she would have a chance to swing by Goodwill and drop off whatever she had decided to get rid of – which, based on the looks of things so far, would be a lot – and finish boxing things up in preparation for the big move on Saturday.

As she slid her timecard into the slot on the clock, punching herself out for the day, Laureen came up behind her, timecard in hand. “Have a good night, Claire,” she said, smiling, as Claire slung her purse over her shoulder and stepped aside to let Laureen clock out as well.

Claire returned the smile. “Thanks, you too,” she replied. Laureen had been working there for exactly one week now, and Claire was glad to have her. The younger hygienist made for a pleasant co-worker, always cheerful and smiling. Perky people like her sometimes got on Claire’s nerves, but so far that had not been the case with Laureen; instead, she found her quite likeable. Her first day or two working at the office, Laureen had come to Claire whenever she had a question or needed something, since Claire was the one she had observed the week before, and also because their cubicles were right across the hall from each other. They’d been friendly ever since, and it seemed Laureen was on her way to becoming one of Claire’s closer friends from work. They didn’t have much in common, as far Claire could tell, but they were two of the youngest in a staff mostly made up of married women in their thirties and forties, and that was a good enough basis for professional friendship at least.

Just as Claire was getting ready to leave, car keys in hand, Tim strode in. “Hey, C,” he greeted her briefly, and she returned the acknowledgment, wishing he wouldn’t call her ‘C.’ It was a nickname he’d used for her when they were together, and, friend or not, it somehow didn’t seem appropriate anymore, especially not at work. But she said nothing and headed for the door. Just as she was walking out, she overheard him saying in a low, suave sort of voice, “So, Laureen… did you have a nice weekend?”

Slipping out the front door of the office, Claire groaned to herself. The question had sounded innocent enough, but she was wise enough to know otherwise. Poor Laureen had only been there a week, and already Tim was swooping down on her. She supposed it shouldn’t surprise her (and it really didn’t); it had been the same way when Tim had first started working there almost a year ago. One week, and he was already flirting with her. Another week, and they’d gone out together. A couple more weeks, and they were in a relationship. To her, it had always been casual, and though it made her feel guilty to admit it, more of a distraction than anything else. Tim had asked her out at a perfect time – for him, anyway – right after Nick had pushed her away, making her think she didn’t mean as much to him as she thought she had. She’d later found out it wasn’t true, but at the time, it had hurt, and she saw a fling with Tim as a great way to take her mind off of Nick. And even though their relationship had lasted several months, that’s really all it ever was, to her. A fling. Tim was a nice guy, good-looking and smart too, but he was not for her. She’d known their relationship was going nowhere long before she had broken it off, but even when she did finally break up with him, she couldn’t help but feel bad, feeling that he’d always been a lot more committed to it than she.

She didn’t feel bad anymore. Tim had been fine on his own, and it had not been long before a new woman started coming to the office to meet him for lunch every day. That had lasted a few weeks, and then there was another, and then another. Tim was no more ready to get serious and settle down than she was when she had dated him, and she figured that if most of the other hygienists weren’t already taken, he’d have dated at least half the staff by now.

As she climbed into the car, Claire wondered if she should give Laureen a warning the next day over lunch. Glancing back at the office as she pulled out of the parking lot and drove away, Claire decided against it. Hopeless flirt or not, Tim was harmless, and who knew, maybe he and Laureen would be the perfect match. Either way, it wasn’t really her place to ruin Tim’s chances with the new hygienist.

As she headed for home, her mind still on Tim and Laureen, Claire suddenly remembered she had promised Nick she would come over to his place after work. It was a routine she followed often, but with Jamie in town and an entire apartment filled with things to pack, her brain had been elsewhere. Glad she hadn’t forgotten, she turned in the direction she needed to go to get to Nick’s. She knew he’d be glad to see her; she hadn’t seen him at all the day before, but he had sounded bored and lonely on the phone, and if his leg was still giving him trouble, he’d probably be the same way today.

She sailed through a yellow light and turned at the next intersection, deciding she would just have to relax at Nick’s house instead. She didn’t mind – cuddling on the couch or lounging by the pool with him would beat going home to face the arduous task of packing any day.

***

“Hey, hon,” Claire said when Nick swung open his front door.

“Hey you,” he replied, smiling at the sight of her, and stepped back to let her into the house.

As she walked in, she noticed he was still on crutches and asked, “How’s the blister?”

He didn’t really answer, just sort of grunted, but she got the point. “How was work today?” he questioned her automatically, laying his crutches down on the floor as they both took a seat on his couch.

“It was busy, but okay,” she replied. “I’m tired though… and my back’s kind of sore…” Arching her back, she stuck a hand behind her and ran it up and down her spine, looking at him meaningfully the whole time.

He smirked. “You hinting at something, babe?” he teased her. She gave him another look; he knew exactly what she wanted from him. And he gave it to her, gently turning her so that her back was to him and resting his large hands on her shoulders. He started there, deeply massaging her shoulders, rubbing her neck, working the tense muscles in her upper back. He descended downward to reach her lower back, staying on top of her scrub top at first, and then sliding his hands underneath the crisp, patterned material. She let out a soft moan of pleasure as his fingertips came in contact with her flesh, and when she felt his stubby fingernails lightly scratching up and down her spine, her skin broke out in goosebumps.

“Mmm, that feels so good,” she sighed, once again glad she hadn’t forgotten to stop by his place on the way home.

“Do me next?” he asked, a note of pleading in his voice. “It’s hard working hauling this body around on crutches all day.”

“Aww, poor baby,” she said, but she really did feel his pain – crutches were no picnic. “Sure I’ll do you next. Not yet though – keep going.”

“Sure thing, princess,” he teased, and she felt his lips on the back of her neck. She smiled as he kissed her tenderly and then nuzzled around in that area for awhile before getting back to the actual massage.

She let him go on for another five minutes and then said, “Okay, ready to switch?” She turned just in time to see his eager nod, and then he turned around too, so that his back was to her. Before she had even laid a hand on him, he pulled his t-shirt up and over his head, balling it up in his hands and tossing it to the floor. Smiling, she placed her hands on his broad shoulders and couldn’t help but notice the contrast between her fair, white skin and his deep tan. Damn him for being able to tan. No, not damn him... it made him look even better without a shirt on.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder to see why her hands hadn’t started moving yet.

“Hold your horses, boy, I’m going,” she replied, digging into his bronzed flesh with the palms of her hands, working his neck and shoulders and then his upper arms. She could feel the muscle there and knew it was built up from more than just supporting himself on crutches. He liked to work out, especially lifting weights and doing exercises to tone his upper body. She figured his thinking was that if his lower body couldn’t be perfect, at least he could make himself look good from the waist up. As if that had ever been a problem in the first place. Still, he was looking better than she’d ever seen him, the weight he’d lost during his last hospital stay back in the form of muscle.

She massaged these muscles now; they were tight, probably from all the crutch-walking over the last few days. As she worked her way down his back a little, she noticed streaks of red disappearing under his arms. Touching one of the red patches gently, she asked, “Does this hurt? It’s kinda red right here.”

“Oh… yeah, from these stupid crutches,” he muttered. “I hate those things.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to have them all the way up your armpits like that, are you?”

“Nah, I don’t think so either… you’re supposed to use your arms to carry most of the weight, but I get lazy.”

“Aw…” She leaned forward to plant a kiss right on his shoulder blade and then asked, “How much longer are gonna be stuck on the crutches, you think? The blister’s gotta be getting better by now, right?”

“Eh…” He trailed off, not really answering her again, and she frowned.

“Can I see it?” she asked. “How bad is it? I mean, if it’s not starting to feel any better by now, maybe you should call your doctor and get some advice on what to do for it.”

He shifted his weight, and she could tell he was uncomfortable. “Nah…” he said hesitantly, “it’s fine.”

“Lemme see it,” she persisted. He had a bad habit of pretending things were ‘fine’ when they weren’t.

“Claire,” he groaned in annoyance. “Back off, okay? It’s fine.”

She took her hands off him. “Lemme see, or no more backrub,” she negotiated, hoping that would get him.

It did.

“Fine,” he grumbled, heaving an exaggerated sigh. Turning so that he was facing forward on the couch again, he pulled off the sock that covered his stump. His motions were jerky and rough, and she did not miss the grimace of pain that crossed his face. She bit her lip, hating to see him hurting. When he had gotten the sock off, she looked down to find a large gauze pad covering the rounded end of the limb. He reached down and gingerly peeled off the tape that held the bandage in place. Then, slowly, he pulled back the gauze, exposing the skin underneath a little at a time.

When the bandage was all the way off, and she got a good look at the wound it had been concealing, Claire gasped. That was not just a blister; if it was, it was definitely the worst blister she’d ever seen. It was large in diameter and looked deeper than she had expected. It was as if something vaguely circular had tried to gouge into his skin. Pains shot through her at the very thought. The inside of it was dark red, and the skin around it was puffy and almost the same shade of scarlet.

“Holy shit, Nick,” she inhaled, tearing widened eyes away from the unsightly sore to look up at his face. “I think you should see someone about that – like, right away. It looks infected…”

“I know,” he muttered, making a face as he glanced down at it. “I’ve been putting Neosporin on it…”

She shook her head. “Somehow I don’t think Neosporin’s gonna be enough. Has it been this bad the whole time?” He just shrugged, looking uneasy, and she could tell he wasn’t going to give up anymore information. “Well, I seriously think you should at least call someone about that,” she went on firmly, not caring if she sounded bossy or not. This was serious. “Don’t you have another doctor that takes care of the stuff that has to do with your leg?”

“Yeah, my prosthetist,” he said. “I guess maybe I should call him.”

She nodded. “I think you should. It looks infected, and that’s not something you wanna take your chances with.”

He made another face, but she could tell he already knew that. With a sigh, he looked at the clock. “It’s already five… think anyone will still be there?”

“Hopefully. Try and see. Do you have the number somewhere? Want me to get it?”

“I’ve got it somewhere in my desk… I’ll find it.” He stood up slowly and picked up his crutches, using them to haul himself off towards his office at a snail’s pace. Claire shook her head behind him before following after him; you’d have thought he was walking the green mile to his execution or something. After everything he had been through, it was no wonder he wasn’t a big fan of doctors – neither was she – but, come on, this was nothing compared to what he’d already suffered through. An annoyance, for sure, but nothing unbearable. A few doses of antibiotics, and the infection should clear right up.

Claire stood in the doorway of Nick’s small, hardly-used office for a moment, watching as he stood in front of his desk, his back to her, and opened a drawer. As he rifled through the contents, she came up behind him and placed a hand on his back.

“I know it’s here somewhere,” he mumbled, probably more to himself than to her, as he started pulling handfuls of papers and leaflets out of the drawer and piling them haphazardly on the desktop. She couldn’t help but peek over his shoulder at the papers he had taken out of the drawer. Curiously pouring over the titles, she found them all to contain medical information. A pamphlet on Ewing’s Sarcoma… drug fact sheets for various medications he’d taken… a guide to coping with the side effects of chemotherapy… even an diagram illustrating the proper way to bandage. He covered this with an instruction manual for his C-Leg and then expelled a sigh. “Finally!” he exclaimed, and she saw that he was holding up a business card. She took it from him and read the name on the card.

Ryan Emthrey, Certified Prosthetist (C.P.)

There was also a phone number and office hours – Monday through Friday, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. Of course. It was after five o’clock by now, but she said, “You should call now; someone might still be there.”

He nodded wordlessly and slumped into the desk chair. Picking up the phone that sat on the desk, he dialed the number on the card. She stood beside him, her hand on his shoulder, and they both waited. Finally, he groaned and hung up the phone. “I just got a machine,” he said. “I’ll call again tomorrow morning.”

She pursed her lips. “What do you think he’s going to do for you tomorrow? He can’t write you a scrip for antibiotics, right? Cause he’s not a doctor?”

Nick considered this a moment, absently twisting the card in his hands. “No, I guess not. So what, you think he’d just tell me to go see my doctor for antibiotics?”

“I guess so. I dunno what else he could do for it; if it’s infected, and it’s bacterial, antibiotics are usually how you’d treat it.”

“So… should I call Dr. Kingsbury? I don’t really have a family doctor or anything.”

“Your oncologist? I dunno… I guess she could write you a scrip, but that’s not really her specialty. What if we just went to the ER?”

“The Emergency Room?” he repeated, eyes bugging. “Are you serious? It’s not an emergency; it’s just a stupid blister! It’ll probably go away on its own anyway…”

“I know it’s not an emergency, but they’ll take a look at it and give you antibiotics in the ER. That’s what they’re there for.” He didn’t look convinced, so she continued patiently, “Come on, I can drive you in right now. You can get a doctor to look at it, he’ll tell you it’s infected and write a prescription for antibiotics and tell you how to take care of it, and we’ll be on our way.”

“Right now?!” he cried. “Tonight??”

“Hey, the sooner the better. Why not tonight? It’ll give me a good excuse not to go home and pack,” she said with a snort, as if going to the Emergency Room with him would be better than packing. It really wouldn’t be, but as long as she wasn’t the patient, and it wasn’t an emergency, she supposed it wouldn’t be so bad. At least it would put her mind to rest, knowing he was being taken care of. An infection, even a seemingly minor one, was nothing to mess around with, as she’d learned following her bone marrow transplant, when her immune system had been too weak to fight off even the common cold.

Nick sighed, looking at her with puppy dog eyes. She stared right back, her gaze firm. Finally, he relented. “Okay,” he said grudgingly, “let’s go. You’re gonna have to rub my back for like an hour when we get back though, woman.”

“Only if you’re a good little patient,” she cooed, pinching his cheek.

He made a face, shying away from her. “Quit it.”

“Fine. Come on.” Grabbing his hands, she pulled him up from the chair and handed him his crutches.

“Ugh,” he grumbled, gripping the crutch handles tightly. “I hate going out without my leg on…”

Looking over at him sympathetically, she tried to be positive. “I know, but you’ll be at the hospital – no one will think anything of it there. You’ll fit in perfectly.”

He rolled his eyes and did not reply, but when she started to walk out of the room, he followed her. They stopped long enough to put on shoes and then went out to her car, which was parked in his long circular driveway. He slid his crutches across the backseat and climbed into the front, buckling himself into the passenger seat. She got behind the wheel, started the engine, and put the old Toyota into drive. She paused to tune the radio to a rock station they both listened to. An old Hoobastank song she liked was playing, but neither of them sang along. In fact, the entire drive to the hospital was silent. Nick stared broodingly out the window the whole time, and she stared at the road, tearing her eyes away just long enough to sneak a glance at him every few seconds. Whether he noticed or not, she was not sure. He never returned the glance.

***

Chapter 23

AN: Carrie, you ROCK! Huge thanks for the ideas and info! Also thanks to Bianca for helping me decide which lyrics to use at the end.

Nick hated hospitals. He always had, but now more than ever, and Tampa General was no exception. Other than meeting Claire, nothing good had ever happened to him there, and as he hobbled slowly into the Emergency Room, the all-too familiar sights and sounds and the smell of antiseptic brought back a whirlwind of bad memories. He thought about how he had been wheeled into this very ER not even seven months ago, unable to breathe and coughing up blood from a rapidly growing tumor in his lung. He’d never been more terrified in his life, and even now, he involuntarily shuddered at the mere memory of it.

Claire looked over at him. “Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I just hate this place, is all.”

“Heh… you’re not alone there,” she said dryly, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. He gave her a tight-lipped smile and made his way past a packed waiting room to the admit desk, where two desk clerks sat half-hidden behind computer screens, one typing a mile a minute on his keyboard while the other reached for a ringing phone, answering with a curt “ER.”

Dodging the harassed-looking nurses that bustled back and forth from the desk area, Nick stepped up to the clerk that was typing and cleared his throat loudly. When the man did not even look up, he tried again, this time adding an “Um, excuse me? Sir?”

The clerk looked up briefly, then back down, and with his eyes fixed on the monitor in front of him, said robotically, “Take a seat in the waiting room, and the triage nurse will get to you as soon as possible, sir.”

Picturing the crowded waiting room he had just walked by, Nick sighed and threw Claire a look of annoyance. “Sir,” he tried again, “I’m sorry to bother you, but is there anywhere more private we could wait? See, I’m-“

The young female clerk on the other side of the man Nick was speaking to suddenly slammed down the phone and leapt to her feet, looking at Nick with wide eyes. “You’re Nick Carter!” she hissed in a whisper, her hand flying to her mouth. “Hold on just a minute, Mr. Carter, I’m sure we can find a room for you. Hey, Jen? Jen!” Nick glanced behind him to see that she was addressing a short, brown-haired nurse, who came over quickly. “Are there any exam rooms open? Or curtain areas, at the very least?”

“I think the patient in Exam 4 was just discharged,” replied the nurse, Jen. “Want me to check?”

“Yes, would you? Mr. Carter here needs a room as soon as possible,” the clerk said, motioning to Nick.

Nick saw recognition flicker in the eyes of the petite nurse as she looked Nick up and down, but she stayed professional, simply nodding and hurrying off to see about the room. She was back in less than two minutes. “Okay, we have a room ready for you, Mr. Carter,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Come with me.”

“Wow,” commented Claire to Nick, as they followed Jen down the hall, “talk about service. I’m impressed.”

He flashed her a momentary grin. “Oh you know it, baby – it’s all VIP treatment here. Cause I’m special.”

“You’re somethin’ all right…” Claire scoffed, as Jen stopped in the doorway of a small examining room and held the door, ushering them in.

“Go ahead and have a seat on the table there, Ni- Mr. Carter,” said the nurse, pointing to the padded exam table in the center of the room, which Nick obediently boosted himself onto, handing the crutches off to Claire. “Now, what seems to be the problem?”

***

After Jen had asked Nick a few questions and looked at the blister, she brought in a doctor, another young woman, who, looking slightly tense, introduced herself as Dr. Yoder. “I’m, uh… just going to take a look at your leg here,” she said, pulling up a stool and taking a seat. “Jen? Could you get his vitals while I’m doing this?”

Butterflies fluttered nervously in Nick’s stomach as the doctor began to poke and prod at his blister, while the nurse took his temperature, pulse, and blood pressure – all unnecessary, in his opinion. It was just a stupid blister. Still, sitting there in the Emergency department of the hospital, he couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Too many times, he had been behind these walls, thinking there was nothing seriously wrong with him, only to find out there was.

And this young doctor was doing nothing to alleviate his fears. He noticed that her eyes kept wandering from his stump to his face, when she thought he was not looking. Every time their eyes happened to meet, they would both quickly look away – her back down, and him over to Claire. By the second or third time it happened, Claire was looking down at the doctor with one eyebrow raised, a look of skepticism pressed into her features. Nick was just wondering if there was any way he could request a different doctor without insulting the one he had, who had just snuck another glance at him. Was she always like this with patients, he wondered, or was she just starstruck, nervous because of who she was treating?

He wished she could be like Dr. Kingsbury, the only doctor he really liked (as much as you can like a cancer doctor anyway), who was too old to have any interest in him that way.

“His temp’s a little high, Dr. Yoder, 99.5 degrees.”

Shaken out of his thoughts, Nick started a bit; he hadn’t even realized he was running a fever, if even a slight one. Dr. Yoder paused her examination to look up at him. “How long have you been running a fever, Mr. Carter?”

“I… I, uh, didn’t even know I had one,” Nick fumbled. “I feel fine, honestly.”

“And you told Jen you’ve had this since Saturday, is that right?”

“Yes,” answered Nick. “Um… is there something wrong?” Now his palms were beginning to sweat. He wanted to reach for Claire’s hand, but he kept his hands folded tightly in his lap, not wanting her to know that he was nervous. She’d made this all sound so simple, nothing to worry about.

“Well… what you have here is not a blister; it’s an ulcer, or a pressure sore. It was probably caused by overusing your prosthetic leg when you were running on it the other day.”

“Okay…” Nick said slowly, digesting this information, which was hardly anything he didn’t already know. He didn’t care what the stupid sore was called, and he already knew full well what had caused it – now all he wanted to know was how to get rid of it!

Going on, the doctor added, “On top of that… it looks like you have an infection. It could be cellulitis, which is a deep infection of the skin. You have the classic signs – pain, redness, warmth, and swelling.”

“What do you do for that?” Nick asked, a little uneasy. He glanced quickly at Claire and then followed her gaze back to the doctor. “Antibiotics?” he proposed hopefully, remembering what Claire had told him earlier.

“Well… antibiotics are the standard course of treatment for a bacterial infection, but I don’t know for sure that the cellulitis – if that’s what it is – was caused by bacteria. Because your temperature is a little above normal and because of your, uh… medical history… I’d like to run some tests before I prescribe anything.”

Nick’s shoulders slumped at the mention of running ‘tests.’ ‘Tests,’ he had learned, were never pleasant and almost always uncomfortable, whether he was being poked with a needle or rolled into a loud machine that made him claustrophobic. “What kind of tests?” he asked weakly. If she said she would need to do a bone marrow to figure out what kind of infection he had, he was out of there.

“I’ll just need to get a blood sample, and then I’ll have the lab run a few different kinds of tests on it,” replied Dr. Yoder. To the nurse, she added, “Jen, order a CBC and blood culture… and… oh, might as well add a BUN and creatinine too.”

Nick did not miss the way the nurse’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly. But Jen nodded and replied, “Sure, Doctor,” writing down the orders on the chart she’d started for Nick.

“I’ll let Jen here draw your blood, and I’ll go put a rush on those tests so you won’t have to wait long. I’ll be back to see you later,” promised Dr. Yoder and left quickly.

Nick shook his head after her, and when Jen started to follow her out the door, mumbling something about coming back in a few minutes with supplies, he reached out and caught her arm. “Excuse me, miss, I don’t mean to be rude, but…” He paused and checked to make sure the doctor was gone and the door was closed, then went on, motioning to the door, “Does she know what she’s doing?”

Jen flashed him a quick smile. “Dr. Yoder is one of our best residents,” she nodded. “She’s just being thorough.”

“Yeah, but… I dunno, she seemed kind of unsure of herself.” Realizing he’d probably said too much, he shrugged and added quickly, “It was probably just me. I’m sorry.”

Jen smiled again, awkwardly this time. “Oh, don’t worry about it. And don’t worry about her competency either – she’s normally a lot more composed around patients, but what can I say…” She rested her hand lightly on his shoulder. “It’s not everyday we get a Backstreet Boy in here.” She winked, and Nick had to try hard to keep from rolling his eyes. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to do the blood draw, okay?”

“Okay,” Nick echoed flatly, watching as she, too, left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. As soon as she was gone, he looked over at Claire. He didn’t even have to say anything; she just knew what he was thinking and immediately started snickering. As she put a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter, he rolled his eyes the way he’d been wanting to a minute earlier. “Okay, don’t get me wrong here,” he said, “I love my fans. But somehow I don’t really like the idea of my doctor being one.”

“I know,” Claire said, still giggling. “But hey, I guess it could have been worse.”

“How?”

“Well…” Claire smirked. “She could have been an ‘N Sync fan.”

***

Jen returned with a bin of supplies, which she assembled on a small, stainless steel tray. “I’m just going to do a simple blood draw from your arm,” she said to Nick.

He held out his left arm obediently. “There’s a good vein here,” he said dully, pointing out a visible bit of blue on the inside of his elbow. That was usually the one they drew blood from when they could.

“Oh, okay… great,” said Jen, looking momentarily surprised.

“He’s used to this,” Claire explained, reaching for Nick’s right hand and giving it a squeeze. He smiled a little and squeezed her hand back.

The nurse nodded knowingly. “Well, that’s always a plus for us nurses, not having to hunt for a vein.” She gave Nick a quick smile, although he couldn’t help but notice the sympathy in her eyes as she did so. He returned the smile, tight-lipped, not wanting her pity. It only made him more uncomfortable than he already was.

Jen swapped the crook of his arm with a cotton ball doused in antiseptic, and the strong, unmistakable smell of it filled his nostrils once again, making him feel momentarily queasy. Then she strapped a thick, elastic band around his upper arm, and he looked away, waiting while she prepared the syringe she was going to slide into his vein. Even after two years of being stuck with needles in a routine basis, he refused to watch. He looked at Claire instead, and their eyes met. She gripped his hand, and he held her gaze, as he felt the sharp prick of the needle as it poked through the sensitive skin on the inside of his elbow. He winced, but held his arm still until Jen carefully retracted the needle. Then he let out his breath with a soft whoosh, while Jen took the elastic tourniquet off of his arm and covered the pinprick site with a cotton ball. Only then did he look, letting go of Claire’s hand so that he could press down on the cotton ball until his blood clotted beneath it.

Jen hung around for a few minutes, cleaning up, and secured a band-aid over the cotton ball before she left to take his blood sample to the lab, promising she’d be back to check on him soon. As soon as she was gone, Nick leaned back and rubbed his throbbing arm briefly before reaching for Claire’s hand again. Intertwining his fingers with hers, he muttered, “Well, that’s always a pain in the ass. It better not take too long to get the results, or I’m outta here.”

“Sorry,” Claire said. “I didn’t know they were gonna have to draw blood for this.”

“It’s not your fault,” he mumbled. “Probably a good thing you made me come. I guess it was worse than I thought.” He gave her a wry smile. “Looks like I fucked myself up pretty good, huh?”

She looked back at him with compassion and said, “Aw, baby… it’s gonna be okay. I know this sucks, but once they give you some antibiotics or whatever, it’ll heal, and you’ll be back on your feet. Maybe even back to running, as long as you promise not to go try any marathons like you were apparently doing it your backyard the other day.” She flashed him a smile that was full of mischief, and he chuckled, half-regretting that day, because of what he’d done to himself, but still proud of himself despite that.

“Sure,” he agreed. “Give me a few days to train, and we can race.” He winked, and she let out a snort of laughter.

“Ha, fat chance. You can race all you want, buddy, but there’s no way you’re gonna get me out running around in ninety-degree heat. I’ll stick to a treadmill inside, where it’s air-conditioned.”

“You’re a pansy,” he kidded her, and she retorted by sticking her tongue out at him. Ah, how mature they were. He grinned, but quickly sobered when another thought came to him. “Hey, Claire?”

“What?”

“What if it’s not healed by Saturday, and I can’t wear my leg? I’m not gonna be much help moving you in…”

“Don’t worry about that,” she said quickly. “My dad and Kyle are coming to help, and Howie is too, right?” Nick nodded. “Then we should be fine. The four of us can handle it if you’re still stuck on crutches. You can just help me figure out where to put stuff, okay?”

“’Kay,” he said, nodding again, but inside, he couldn’t help but feel bad. She was the one giving up her apartment to move into his place, and now he might not even be able to help her with the move. It was hard not to feel worthless sometimes, especially in times like these. Being laid up like this, unable to use the prosthetic leg that had become the next best thing to his real one, reminded him that he was “disabled.” He never used that word to describe himself, because he hated thinking of himself that way, but… well, technically, it was true, wasn’t it?

At that thought, he sighed to himself. Claire immediately looked over. “Whatcha thinking about?” she asked, squeezing his hand.

“Nothing… just about how much my life sucks sometimes,” he muttered.

Claire’s eyebrows furrowed, creases appearing in her smooth forehead as she frowned slightly. “Don’t say that, Nick,” she chided him softly. “I know it’s hard sometimes, but be grateful that you’re here to enjoy all the good things in life.”

He knew she was right. He should be lucky to be alive. And he was, most of the time. But it was hard not to get depressed every now and then, when he thought about all the horrible things that had happened to him, and all the things that still could. Yet, when he looked back at her, his eyes absorbing her appearance, seeing her as he had the night he’d found out about the lung tumor, when he’d never been so glad to see her face - pinched, drawn, and beautiful – he knew that the good eclipsed the bad. For she was the good; she was the reason for living.

He let himself smile a little. “I know,” he replied, his voice slightly hoarse, and squeezed her hand back before bringing it up to his mouth. He kissed the back of it lightly, savoring the softness of her skin on his dry lips. “I am grateful.”


For once in my life
I have someone who needs me
Someone I’ve needed for so long
For once unafraid
I can go where life leads me
Somehow I know I’ll be strong

For once I can touch
What my heart used to dream of
Long before I knew
Someone warm like you
Would make my dream come true

For once in my life
I won’t let sorrow hurt me
Not like it’s hurt me before
For once I have something
I know won’t desert me
I’m not alone anymore

For once I can say
This is mine, you can’t take it
As long as I know
I have love I can make it

For once in my life
I have someone who needs me

- “For Once In My Life” by The Temptations


***

“You can get a doctor to look at it, he’ll tell you it’s infected and write a prescription for antibiotics and tell you how to take care of it, and we’ll be on our way.”

It had been just after five in the evening when Claire had said those words. Now it was going on nine, according to the clock on the wall of the exam room in which she and Nick had been sitting all night.

He was annoyed. She was annoyed.

Not with each other, just with the whole situation. The nurse, Jen, had been back a few times to check on him, promising that the results for at least some of the blood tests that had been ordered would be back soon, and then the doctor would stop by to talk to him.

Soon.

‘Soon’ didn’t necessarily mean the same thing in the medical world as it did in the real world; this Claire had learned after being thrust unwillingly into the former five years ago. Still, she hadn’t expected that she and Nick would be spending their entire evening in the ER. She hoped he didn’t resent her for convincing him to go. He really shouldn’t; after all, she’d been right about one thing – that his “blister” was a little more serious than he had made it out to be. Like it or not, she felt they’d both made a good decision by coming.

“I can’t believe how long this is taking,” Nick grumbled for at least the third time in the last ten minutes. Claire had given up responding; she simply patted his hand and glanced at the clock. 8:57.

So much for packing tonight, she thought. They wouldn’t get back to his house before 9:30, at the very earliest, and she knew she wasn’t just going to drop him off at the door and head home. After all this, he could use a little pampering. And by the time she did get back to her apartment, it would be time for bed; after all, she had to work in the morning. She could start on the packing tomorrow.

The door to the room opened with a soft click, and she and Nick both looked up expectantly. She smiled in relief when it was Nick’s doctor who walked into the room.

“Hi, Nick,” said Dr. Yoder, smiling briefly, an awkward smile. “Sorry for the wait, but I have some of your bloodwork back. Your white count is high, which indicates an infection. I won’t know exactly what the infection is until I get the rest of your results, which won’t be available for another few days, but assuming it’s bacterial in nature, I’m going to prescribe an antibiotic called Keflex.”

Claire looked over at Nick, thinking, Didn’t I tell you?

He immediately met her eyes, and she was pretty sure she knew what he was thinking too. Why couldn’t she just have prescribed an antibiotic called Keflex when I first got here? Claire was wondering the same thing, because it certainly didn’t seem as if they’d gained any new information from the blood draw, so far anyway. So his white count was high – duh. That’s what happened when a person had an infection, which Nick obviously did, judging from the swollen redness around the sore on his skin. Thank you, Doctor Obvious.

“You need to be closely monitored while on this antibiotic,” the resident was now saying, “so I’d like you to fill the prescription and take it for two days to begin with. Then you need to come back here, say… sometime Wednesday or Thursday… Thursday morning at the latest… so that I can examine you again and make sure the antibiotic is working. The rest of your bloodwork should be done by then too.”

Nick was not going to like that. One look in his direction confirmed Claire’s suspicions, when she saw his eyes narrow and his mouth open, as if he were about to protest. Jumping in quickly to head him off, Claire spoke up, “I’m off Thursday and Friday, Nick, remember? So I can bring you in Thursday morning if you want.”

Nick’s shoulders slumped in defeat, but he nodded. “Okay,” he agreed reluctantly. Looking at the doctor, he asked, “Thursday morning – that’ll work?”

“That’ll be fine,” replied Dr. Yoder. “I’ll let the admit desk know you’re coming in.”

Less than ten minutes later, they were on their way out the door, Nick hobbling along on his crutches, Claire holding onto a piece of paper containing the prescription the doctor had written for him. According to her notes, he was to take the antibiotic twice a day for ten days, unless she told him otherwise when he came back for a check on Thursday. Claire swung by a Walgreen’s to fill the prescription on the way home and was just pulling into Nick’s driveway when ten o’clock rolled around.

“That sucked,” Nick muttered, letting Claire hold the door for him as he hobbled into the house.

“I know,” she said – he’d already told her as much at least twice in the car. “But at least you got an antibiotic for it. That’ll clear it up, and you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

“It better,” he replied. “I didn’t sit in that place for four hours and let them stick me for nothing.” Setting his crutches aside, he sank wearily onto the couch and inspected the inside of his elbow. “Look,” he said, gingerly poking at the band-aid with his index finger, “it’s already bruising.”

Sure enough, when Claire sat down beside him, she could see the skin around the band-aid starting to change colors. “Aww,” she cooed, unable to keep from smiling at the sad puppy face he was making. “You poor baby. Shall I kiss it and make it better?”

“No… but you can kiss me here,” he said, pointing to his smirking lips.

She smiled; how could she resist? “Whatever works,” she replied with a shrug, sliding her arms around his neck and leaning forward to place a tender kiss on his pouty lips. “That better?” she smiled, as she slowly pulled back.

He returned the smile. “A little. Now, how about that backrub you promised me?”

***

It was late by the time Claire got home on Monday night, and Tuesday morning found her exhausted from lack of sleep. By the time work ended on Tuesday afternoon, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and take a nap, but she decided sleep would have to wait. She had to get a start on packing, or she would regret it by the end of the week. She worked steadily for a few hours, stopping only to heat up a TV dinner for herself. Just as she finishing the last of her bland dinner, Nick called.

“You wanna come over?” he asked on the phone, and she could hear the boredom in his hopeful tone. Poor thing, he’d been stuck at home all day again; no wonder he was bored. Unfortunately, she was going to have to turn him down. If she went over there now, she knew she’d end up staying for hours, and she had to get to bed early that night.

“I can’t, Nick,” she said reluctantly. “I need to do some more work around here, and then I’m going to bed. I’m really tired.”

“Aww... c’mon, baby,” he pleaded, the whine starting to come into his voice. “You can sleep over here if you want.”

“Nick… no,” she repeated. “You know I’d like to, but I can’t tonight. You enjoy having your bed all to yourself, because in a few days you’ll be stuck sharing it with me. And you know I’m a cover-hog.”

He chuckled. She smiled at the sound. “I know,” he said. “You’re also a roller. And a kicker.”

She giggled, knowing he was right. She would always find herself in the most interesting positions when she woke up in the morning. “Well, could be worse – at least I don’t snore.”

“Ha, right! You do that too!”

Gasping in indignation, she replied, “I do not snore!”

“You do too!” he insisted, laughing. “Lightly, thank God. But you do.”

She shook her head, but he was probably right there too. “Well, enjoy your last few nights without my snoring then,” she said. “Jeez, you’ll probably have kicked me out by this time next week… or banished me to one of the guest rooms.”

“Never,” he vowed. She smiled again.

They talked for a few minutes, and she asked if he’d been taking his prescription – he said he had – and then, after a glance at the clock, she told him she had to go. “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “We can do something tomorrow, once I’m caught up on sleep, okay?”

“Okay,” he replied grudgingly. “’Night.”

“’Night,” she echoed, then added, “Love you.”

She waited for his response, hoping she hadn’t let him down too much. After a pause, the welcomed words came. “I love you too.”

Smiling, she gently replaced the phone receiver and slid down onto one of her kitchen chairs, thinking about him. It took her a minute or two to snap out of her reverie and get back up. She threw away the sorry remainder of her dinner, did a quick load of dishes, and headed back into the living room to wrap a few more of her odds and ends in tissue paper and pack them neatly into a cardboard box. When she had filled the box up and taped it shut, she decided to call it a night. Turning out the lights in the front of the apartment, she headed back to her tiny bedroom, greatly looking forward to scrunching down beneath her covers and falling asleep.

***

Chapter 24

When Claire finished with work the following afternoon, Tim and Laureen were flirting by the clock yet again. Rolling her eyes behind their backs, Claire slipped her timecard back into its slot, said a quick goodbye in their general direction, and left quickly, wondering how long it would be before Laureen fell victim to his charms and went out with him. Of course, at that point, the next guess would be how long Laureen would keep going out with him until his repetitive calling and rambling stories about his mascot days in college got to be too much. Maybe she could start an office pool and take bets?

Giggling to herself, Claire slid behind the wheel of her car and quickly started the engine, blasting the air-conditioning. While she waited for the stifling interior of the car to cool down, she pulled her cell phone out of her purse and checked her voicemail. One new message. She expected it to be from Nick, but the phone number that was read off into her ear was not Nick’s. And when the message began to play, it was not Nick’s voice either, but a deeper, almost more-familiar one.

“Hey, it’s Jamie. I guess you’re working now, but hopefully you’ll get this when you get off. I’m meeting a couple of friends from college and hitting a few bars tonight… was wondering if you wanted to come. I know you’re off tomorrow, but you’ll probably be busy the next couple days getting ready to move, and I’m leaving Friday morning, so… yeah. Give me a call back. Later.”

When the message ended, Claire lowered the phone and just stared at the number on its screen, hesitating. Her first instinct was to turn Jamie down. After all, she had told Nick she would do something with him that night, and why would she want to go drinking with a couple of Jamie’s college buddies that she had never met?

But then she remembered the rest of the message. “You’ll probably be busy the next couple days… and I’m leaving Friday morning…”

She sighed. He was right. He only had two more nights in town, and Thursday was no good. She had to take Nick to the hospital for his check-up in the morning, and depending on how long that took, the rest of the day was devoted to running errands and working in her apartment. As for Thursday night? Who knew. But she figured after a long day of running around and cleaning and packing, she would much rather just watch a movie with Nick than go out with Jamie. But that would mean putting Jamie first for tonight. She owed him that much – actually, she owed him a lot more than that – so she reluctantly pressed the button to call his number back. She hadn’t seen him nearly enough this week, and she needed to hang out with him at least once more before he flew back up north. Who knew when he’d be down again?

Nick would probably be pissed, she thought as the phone rang, but he would just have to understand. She saw him all the time, and Jamie almost never. Besides, she could just hang out with Nick the following night instead.

“Hey.” Claire stifled a giggle as Jamie answered his cell; it never failed to amuse her how unenthusiastic he always sounded on the phone.

“Hey!” she said brightly, mocking him with her exaggerated perkiness. “Whatcha up to?”

“Hoping you would call. Did you get my message?”

She smiled. “Sure did. You still want me to come with you tonight? It’s not a ‘Guys Night Out’ or anything?”

“Nope, you’re more than welcome to come. Are you going to?”

“I think so,” she said. “I should probably call Nick first… I-“

“What, you need his permission?” Jamie interrupted her. His voice had a sardonic edge that she did not like, and she frowned.

“No…” she enunciated. “As I was trying to say before you interrupted, I just don’t think he’s gonna be too happy. I kinda promised him we’d do something tonight.”

“But you see him all the time.”

“I know. I’ll remind him of that. I just hate having to change my plans on him.”

She heard Jamie expel a short breath on the other end of the line. There was a pause, and then he said, “Well, if it’ll make you want to come with us, you can bring him along.”

She knew there was no way Nick would go for that – he would barely even leave his house when he couldn’t wear his leg, and hell would probably freeze over before he was caught bar-hopping with her ex-boyfriend and company on crutches, his stump bared for the world to see. But, coolly, she replied, “Okay, maybe I’ll ask him when I talk to him. Can I call you back in a bit?”

“Yeah, sure.” He didn’t sound too happy. Too bad for him. Nick would be even less happy when he heard her new plans for the night.

A little annoyed with the whole situation, Claire considered just blowing Jamie off right then and there, but she didn’t. Instead, she said, “Okay, talk to you in a little while” and hung up, speed-dialing Nick’s number instead as she decided she should probably get out of the parking lot. She was just pulling out onto the highway when Nick answered.

“Hey, hon,” she greeted him, accelerating down the road. “Um, listen… Jamie called, and he wants me to do something with him and a few friends tonight. I know I said we could hang out tonight,” she added before he could say anything, “but Jamie’s leaving Friday morning, and tomorrow’s gonna be busy, so I thought it might work out better if I did something with him tonight and then hung out with you tomorrow. What would you think about that?”

There was silence on the other line, and just when she was about to ask if he was still there, Nick said, “Sure, whatever. I guess you’d have more fun going out with him than just sitting around here.”

“Nick,” she sighed. “It’s probably going to be the exact opposite – the people that are going to be with us tonight are his friends from college, and I’ve never met any of them, so chances are I’m going to be bored out of my mind. But I haven’t done a lot with him since the weekend, and I can’t let him go home without hanging out with him one last time. You understand, right?”

“Yeah,” Nick said dully, “I understand.”

She sighed again. “Nick, please… I don’t want you to be upset with me. You’re more than welcome to come with me tonight if you want.”

“No,” was his flat response.

“I knew you’d say that. That’s why I didn’t ask earlier,” she said. “Listen, I know you’re probably bored out of your mind being alone at home all day, and I’m really sorry I’m doing this to you – you probably think it’s a crappy thing to do, but look at it from Jamie’s end – it would be crappy if I blew him off his last couple of days in town. So I’m going out with them tonight, and I promise I will make it up to you tomorrow night. Sound okay?”

“Yeah, that works. You’re gonna owe me tomorrow night though, you do know that?”

She smiled as his tone grew more playful. “Of course,” she agreed cheerfully. “I owe you, and thanks for understanding.”

“No prob. Have fun, okay? Will you call me later, when you get home?”

“Sure,” she said. “Love ya.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

“Bye, Nick.”

She hung up, feeling a little better, and decided she would call Jamie back when she got home. She set her phone down and turned on the radio, blasting it loud as she drove.

***

It didn’t take long for Claire to decide that Jamie’s two college buddies – Greg and Jerry, or simply “Jerr,” as he told her to call him – were a couple of drunken idiots. Jamie had never joined a fraternity in college, and from what she had heard, neither had these two, but that was not what she would have guessed. Slap a few Greek letters on them, and they were stereotypical frat boys to a T - cracking dirty jokes, trying to be smooth while flirting with the hot bartenders, guzzling beer three times as fast as she could. Oh, they were nice enough (Jerr had tried flirting with her at first, before Jamie gave him a warning look that made him back off), but it did not take long for her to get annoyed with both – no, make that all three – of them, just as it did not take long for the three of them to get totally wasted.

By ten o’clock, as she sat nursing a beer while the guys laughed raucously at some joke she’d not heard, nor cared to hear, she was ready to go home. Or back to Nick’s, to keep her buzz going while cuddling with him on the couch, watching some lame late-night movie on TV. She regretted her decision to go out with Jamie that night, because Jamie, as she had discovered, was not himself when he was plastered and in the presence of these two goofs. She had not seen much of Jamie during their college years, because he had dumped her the summer before freshman year and freaked out the spring of sophomore year, after her diagnosis of leukemia. Things had been tense at best between the two of them for the next two years, and she had missed seeing what “college Jamie” was like. But if this was a snapshot, she didn’t miss it at all.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like to go out and drink and have fun, and hang out with guys who liked to do the same. But Jamie had always been a horrible drunk, and his two friends were no better – they got stupider and ruder with every drink they downed. And even with a nice buzz going herself, she couldn’t seem to get in on their fun. She felt left out and wished Jamie had asked Dianna to come along that night too so that at least she’d have someone to talk to. Because Jamie certainly wasn’t doing any of that. He’d gone from trying to be all suave and charming with her at the beginning of the night (nothing more than showing off in front of his friends), to basically ignoring her. She wondered why he’d even asked her to come along.

She was just considering getting Jamie’s attention long enough to tell him she was leaving when he turned to her, surprising her. “Hey, Clairie,” he said loudly, his words slurring slightly, “you remember senior year of high school, when Randy Curtis snuck into the teacher’s lounge and pissed in the coffee pot? You remember that?”

She cracked a smile at the memory and nodded, remembering the lecture the entire senior class had gotten from the principal the following day, about how they were going to “crack down” on senior pranks. “Any student who is caught participating in foolhardy end-of-year practical jokes will not be allowed to attend the graduation ceremony!” she barked in an imitation of Principal Johnson’s gruff voice, bringing Jamie to laughter.

“Yeah!” he cried, slapping his knee. “Oh man that was funny!”

“I got an even better one! Yo, listen to this,” said Jerr, and launched into another senior prank story from his own high school. Despite having decided she was ready to leave, Claire found herself laughing until her eyes watered.

“Listen to this one,” she jumped in, after Greg had shared a story too. “One time, my boyfriend’s best friend convinced him to take a crap in a sock…” By the time she’d finished Nick’s “pooping in a sock and hiding it inside the band’s bass drum” story, the three guys were cracking up.

Jamie stopped laughing long enough to ask, “Nick did that?”

“He sure did,” she replied with a strange sort of pride, finding it funny that a woman could be so proud of her man for crapping into a sock – come on, how gross was that? “Nick’s a funny guy,” she went on, almost defensively. “I wish you two would get to know each other better; you’re more alike than you’d think.”

Jamie didn’t reply, but Greg cut in with, “Wait, Nick? Ohh-ho-ho, you’re the one who’s dating the Backstreet Gimp, aren’t you?”

At first Claire wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. He didn’t just say-? But he had, and she knew it. Her mouth fell open slowly, and she shook her head in disbelief. “What did you say?” she demanded.

“I said-“ He started to repeat himself, then stopped, realizing she had heard him fine the first time – gee, was it her expression that gave her away, or the fact that her cheeks were quickly turning red as her whole face grew hot with anger? “Damn, girl, you don’t gotta get touchy about it; I was just sayin’…”

“Yeah, I heard you, asshole, you don’t need to repeat yourself,” she spat venomously, sliding off her barstool. She started to stalk away, fully intent on leaving, but Jamie intercepted her.

“Claire, wait,” he said, grabbing her by the arms and practically tumbling off his own stool in his attempt to hold her back. “He didn’t mean anything bad by it; he was just kidding around.”

“Did you see me laughing?” she retorted, giving him a hardened glare.

“Hey, Clairie…” Jamie holding onto her had given Greg enough time to get up off his ass and sidle up alongside of her – not to mention use a nickname that only Jamie got away with calling her. “Look, sweetheart, I didn’t mean nothin’… you don’t gotta run off,” he said slimily, daring to put an arm around her.

As soon as his hand touched her back, she flipped. One twist, and she was out of Jamie’s grasp and facing Greg. And when she saw his face, complete with an arrogant smirk that repulsed her, she followed through with the urge to hit him, and wipe away that silly smirk. Before she knew what she was doing, she’d drawn her whole arm back, made a fist, and launched it forward, stopping only when it had made contact with his right cheek. Greg stumbled back, face in hands, and she stumbled back as well, knuckles throbbing, shocked at what she had just done. But not shocked enough to hiss, “Don’t fucking touch me, and don’t call me ‘sweetheart’ – or ‘Clairie,’ for that matter.” With that, she turned and bolted, pushing her way out of the bar before Jamie or anyone else could stop her.

Once outside, she ran a ways down the street and turned the corner before she finally stopped, sinking to the ground with her back pressed up against the wall, knees tucked to her chest. First she felt anger, at Greg; then pride, in herself. But it was not long before tears sprang to her eyes. She blinked rapidly, feeling suddenly humiliated. Why was she crying? Because of what that jackass had said about Nick? Or because her knuckles hurt like a mother. Or because she was out here all alone, slightly drunk and without a ride.

At least I didn’t forget my purse, she thought, picking up the small handbag she’d brought with her. She fished her cell phone out of it and wondered who to call. Nick, of course, was the first who came to mind, but there was no way in hell she was going to call him to come here and get her. Dianna was the obvious next choice, so Claire found her name in her list of contacts and dialed her cell. No answer. Deciding that leaving a tearful voicemail would only upset Dianna when she heard it, Claire hung up and tried her home number instead. Still no answer.

“Damnit, Di, where are you?” she murmured, her voice slightly shrill, and wondered who to try next. She realized with regret that she didn’t have too many other close friends in the area. She thought about her brother, but he lived in St. Petersburg; it would take him a good half hour to come and get her. She quickly nixed that idea and started flipping through the other contacts on her cell phone, hoping to see a name she hadn’t thought of yet.

Right below Kyle, there was one – Laureen.

Claire had just added her phone number the other day, and she didn’t really know Laureen that well yet… but Laureen was always so sweet to her, definitely the kind of person who would help out a friend in need. Deciding to give it a try, Claire pushed the button to dial her number. She sagged in relief when she heard Laureen chirp, “Hello? Claire?”

“Hey, Laureen!” she said breathlessly. “Listen, I’m so sorry to call you like this, but I need a huge favor.”

“Oh sure, what is it? Are you okay?” Laureen asked.

“Yes and no,” answered Claire truthfully. “I won’t go into all the gory details now, but I’m sitting out on a sidewalk downtown, and I really need a ride home, and I can’t call Nick, and my friend Di’s not answering her phone, and-“

“I can come pick you up,” Laureen said before Claire could ramble on any further. “Where are you?”

Claire told her the nearest intersection and the name of the bar they’d last been at and was relieved to hear Laureen say, “Oh, I know where that is! I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you so much, Laureen,” Claire stressed gratefully.

“No problem!”

As soon as their conversation ended, Claire shoved her cell phone back into her bag and stood up, brushing off the seat of her pants. From now on, she was going to have to start taking her own car everywhere, because this was the second time in the past month that she’d been stranded somewhere and had to bum a ride off one of her friends. Then again, even if this hadn’t happened, she figured she would have ridden home in a taxi, for she knew she shouldn’t be driving, and Jamie, who had brought her, definitely shouldn’t. Despite the fact that she was angry at him – and even more so at his friends – she hoped he would have enough sense to call a cab to take him back to his hotel. Lord knows his stupid cronies probably wouldn’t.

Her anger returning, she began to pace the sidewalk, up and down, up and down, never straying far from the spot where she’d sat down to call Laureen.

After a few minutes of pacing, she stopped suddenly. She heard footsteps, pounding against the cement, coming her way, ready to turn the corner. She wanted to turn and walk in the opposite direction, to run even, but her feet stayed rooted to the sidewalk. Arms crossed, she waited until he appeared.

A few short seconds later, there he was.

Jamie.

***

Chapter 25

Jamie’s body sagged when he saw her, and he immediately trotted over, stopping a few feet away from her. “Thank God you’re still here,” he said. “I thought you left.”

“Waiting on my ride right now,” Claire said coolly, looking off into the distance, wishing Laureen’s car would pull up right then.

“Claire… will you look at me?” Reluctantly, she turned her head and met his gaze. Illuminated by the street lamp overhead, his blue eyes shone with remorse. “I’m really sorry,” he told her. “That was an asshole thing of him to say about Nick, and he shouldn’t have touched you. But honestly, Greg’s not a bad guy. He just wasn’t thinking. He’s a little wasted… we’re all a little wasted.” He grinned crookedly.

“Yeah, no shit," Claire spat sharply, annoyed at the fact that he was still making excuses for his jerk of a friend. “Here’s a question, Jamie – how does he know about me and Nick in the first place? What have you been telling those guys about me?”

“Nothing!” Jamie said quickly. “All he knows is that you’re dating Nick. But come on, it’s not like it’s that big of a secret – it’s Nick fucking Carter, for God’s sake.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Go away, Jamie,” she muttered. “Go back to your buddies and leave me alone; I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“Claire, come on, don’t do that,” Jamie pleaded. “I don’t want to leave with you mad at me. I just wanted to say sorry and make sure you’re okay.”

“Well, you said it, and I’m fine, thanks.” Crossing her arms even tighter, she looked away again, wishing he’d take the hint and leave.

“How’s your hand?” he asked. “That was some punch you gave Greg.”

She felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. “Did I give him a black eye, you think?” she asked.

“Mm… maybe not that much… but probably a bruised cheek at least,” Jamie offered. “Either way, he’s pretty humiliated, getting hit by a chick and all. Where’d you learn to punch like that? Did I teach you that? Or did Nick?”

“Neither,” smiled Claire. “My big brother taught me.”

She had gotten her first boyfriend at the age of fifteen, not long after she’d finally developed noticeable breasts (yeah, she was a late bloomer), and when Kyle had found out, he’d taken her out to the garage, where he kept all his old weight-training equipment from his football days, and shown her the proper way to punch on his punching bag. This was the first time she’d actually put the lesson to good use. Kyle would be proud.

Jamie returned her smile. “So,” he said, “you have a ride coming?”

“Yeah,” she answered. “You can go back inside; she should be here soon.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Go on; I don’t want them to come looking for you.” She shooed him away with her hand.

He grinned. “Alright. Will I see you again before I leave?”

She shrugged. “I dunno… definitely not tomorrow.”

“Friday? Maybe you and Di and I can meet for breakfast?” he suggested. “Nick too, if he wants.”

“We’ll see,” she said. “Call me tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“And make sure you call a cab or something to take you back to your hotel tonight. You shouldn’t be driving.”

Smirking, he nodded and saluted her before spinning on his heel and walking back up the sidewalk, weaving ever so slightly. She was amazed he had sobered up just enough to have a logical conversation with her. She hoped he would stay that way long enough to remember her warning about the cab.

Her worries vanished when she saw a familiar car slow and pull up to the curb in front of her. Laureen rolled down the window and stuck her head out. “Hey!” she called. “Hop in!”

Relieved, Claire went around the front of the car and climbed in on the passenger’s side. Turning to Laureen, the first thing she said was, “Thank you so much!”

“Oh, anytime! That’s what friends are for, right?” replied Laureen, taking her foot off the brake. “So… if you don’t mind my asking, what happened??”

As they drove, Claire told Laureen the story, about canceling her plans with Nick to hang out with an old friend was in town and how Jamie’s friends were jackasses and how Greg had insulted Nick (that one elicited a gasp of horror from Laureen – “he didn’t!”) and how she had finally socked Greg and ran out.

“Good for you, girl,” Laureen said emphatically. “He deserved it!”

“Thanks,” smiled Claire. “Thanks for everything.”

“Quit thanking me, it’s fine!” Laureen insisted. “Now, where do you live?”

Claire opened her mouth to give Laureen directions to her apartment complex and then changed her mind. “Actually, could you take me to Nick’s?”

“Sure!” Laureen’s whole face lit up, and Claire chuckled.

“Thanks, Laureen.”

“I said, quit thanking me!” Now they both laughed.

***

It was not even eleven o’clock yet, but Nick was looking forward to going to bed. He’d had another long, boring day and even longer, more boring night, as he sat moping around, trying not to be angry at Claire for ditching him for Jamie. I’ll see her tomorrow, he’d told himself, but it hadn’t helped much. He had wanted to see her tonight.

Now he just wanted to go to bed. He had just gotten undressed when he heard the doorbell rang.

“What the-?” Who would be here this late? He stood in his bedroom for a few seconds, debating this, and finally decided to go to the door, figuring it might be important. When he peeked through the peephole in his front door, he was surprised to see Claire standing there. Quickly, he unlocked the door and yanked it open.

“Hey,” Claire said, smiling sheepishly at him. Before he could even ask what she was doing there, she turned and waved, and only then did he notice the car in the driveway, its bright headlights preventing him from seeing who was inside.

“Who was that?” he asked, as the car pulled away, the taillights fading in the distance.

“Laureen – you know, my friend from work. You met her once,” Claire said.

“Oh… right,” Nick said, remembering. “Why did she drive you? Where’s Jamie?”

“Looooong story,” answered Claire, stretching out her words. Narrowing his eyes to squint at her, standing there beneath the porch light, Nick realized two things – one, she was drunk; and two, she looked like hell. Still beautiful to him, but… hellishly so? Her eyes were bloodshot, which meant she had either been crying, or she was high. Neither sounded very Claire-like, but judging by her smeary mascara, he guessed she’d just been crying. But why?

“Claire, what happened?” he asked, concerned.

“Like I said, long story. Hey, can I come in? It’s really humid out here.”

Wordlessly inching back on his crutches, Nick opened the door wider to let her in. “Come sit down,” he said, leading her into the living room. They sat next to each other on the couch, and only when Claire dropped her hands into her lap did he notice that the back of her right hand was a mess. Her knuckles looked puffy, and worse, they were bleeding.

“Claire!” he cried, snatching her hand to inspect it closer. “What the hell happened?”

“Oh,” she said, gigging as her eyes fell upon her battered hand. “I got into my first bar fight!” she announced, her eyes shining with pride.

Nick blinked at her, then looked back down at the coagulating blood on her hand, which appeared to be coming from small cuts on her knuckles. Suddenly, the injury made sense. “Wait, you mean you punched someone?” he asked in disbelief.

She nodded, her head bobbing up and down exaggeratedly. “One of Jamie’s friends,” she said. “Greg. He was a dick.”

Nick couldn’t help but grin. His woman had punched a guy? Dayum. If only he could have been there to see it. “How was he being a dick?” he wanted to know. “He didn’t try to come onto you, did he?” Without even realizing it, he clenched his hands into fists.

“Something like that,” she said vaguely, and he got the impression she was not being totally honest with him. He was about to probe further, then decided against it. What did it matter what the guy had done? Claire had obviously taken care of it; the cuts across the back of her hand were evidence of that.

“Do you want some ice for that?” he asked, knowing it had to hurt, even if she was intoxicated enough not to realize it.

“Sure…”

Dutifully, he got up and hobbled to the kitchen, where he scooped some ice into a Ziploc baggie, wrapped a clean dishcloth around it, and carried it awkwardly back to her. “Here, this’ll help with the swelling,” he said, feeling almost like a nurse as he sat beside her and helped her hold the makeshift ice pack over her hand. After half an hour, the ice had melted, and Nick said, “Well, you ready to hit the sack? Don’t forget, we’re supposed to go back to the ER tomorrow morning.”

“Oh…” Claire nodded. “Right. But um… how’m I s’posed to get home? I don’t have my car…”

Nick snorted. “Like I’d let you drive even if you did. No, hon, you’re stayin’ here tonight.”

“Here?”

“Yeah, here. Now c’mon, let’s go to bed, shall we?”

“Okay,” she nodded amicably and let him pull her up off of the couch. He led the way back to his first floor bedroom, glad he hadn’t moved back upstairs to the master bedroom yet, for trying to haul himself up the stairs on crutches while keeping an eye on her would have been too much.

She went into the bathroom to wash her face, and when she came back, he was in bed, one of his t-shirts lain out on her side. “Put that on and get in, babe,” he instructed her, patting the empty space on the bed.

She smiled, picking up the t-shirt. “You’re good to me, Nick, you know that?” she murmured, as she slowly stripped off her clothes and pulled on his t-shirt, which hung loosely on her slender frame, the bottom hem brushing her knees.

“I have to be,” he replied as she climbed into bed beside him, leaning over to take her freshly-scrubbed face in his hands and place a soft kiss on her lips. “I love you.”

She giggled. “Aww… I love you too.”

He smiled. She was cute when she was drunk; in the past, he’d usually been too drunk himself to realize that. It crossed his mind to take advantage of the fact that he had her here in his bed, drunk, while he was perfectly sober. But he decided against it. Come Saturday, she’d be sleeping in his bed every night, and they could make love whenever they wanted to. Whenever they both wanted to.

With that thought, he turned off the lamp beside his bed and slid down beneath the covers, feeling her do the same next to him. Rolling over to face her, he reached out through the darkness and touched her shoulder, running his hand gently down her arm. “’Night, Claire,” he whispered.

“G’night, Nick.”

Smiling, he closed his eyes.

***

Chapter 26

AN: Thanks to my “medical consultant” Carrie for her advice. ;)

Claire awoke to the sound of someone saying her name. “Claire… Claire?” A masculine voice, soft and gentle… a finger on her cheek, equally soft and gentle… now a poke in the shoulder, not so soft and gentle. Then the voice again. “Claire?”

Her eyes flew open, and her head turned in the direction of the voice. There she found Nick, lying on his side, facing her, his mouthed curved into a sexy little smile as he watched her. She didn’t remember falling asleep in his bed, but she found that she enjoyed waking up there, even if she did have a slight headache. Seeing him first thing, bare-chested and tousle-headed, the sheet pulled up just to his waist, somehow made up for the hangover.

“Morning,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“Morning,” he said back, his voice a low rumble. “How ya feelin’?”

“Little hungover,” she smiled, “but otherwise okay. Was I pretty drunk last night?” She supposed the alcohol had eventually caught up to her; she remembered punching Jamie’s friend in the bar and riding in the car with Laureen… but beyond that… eh. It was sort of a blur.

“Just a little,” he replied with a wink. He must have just woken up too; there was still sleep in the corners of his blue eyes, and his cheeks looked flushed and rosy. “Do you still feel up to taking me back to the hospital today?”

Oh yeah, it was Thursday, wasn’t it? She had the day off – good thing, because she was pretty sure she would have been late to work otherwise – and she had promised to bring him back to the ER for his follow-up appointment that morning.

She nodded. “Mm, yeah… what time do you wanna go?”

“Whenever you’re ready. I’d rather get it over with early,” he replied.

“Understandable. Okay, that sounds good. Just gotta… get… up…” She struggled to a sitting position, her head pounding as soon as it left the pillow. Ugh. “You got any Advil or Aleve or something around here?”

He smirked. “Sure. You sit tight; I’ll bring you some.” Sitting up himself, he patted her bare leg and swung his own over the side of the bed, stretching his arms above his head before he stood up.

When she saw him reach for his crutches, she said quickly, “No, wait, Nick, I’ll get it” and forced herself out of his bed. She wasn’t going to make him hobble all over the house to do something she was fully capable of doing herself. “Bathroom?” she asked, pointing.

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Middle shelf of the cabinet. Would you mind getting one of my pills too while you’re in there? They’re in the bottle on the counter.”

“Sure thing.” She found a bottle of Aleve and swallowed two of the tablets dry. Then she picked up the orange prescription bottle sitting on his counter. It was for the antibiotic he had been prescribed by the resident in the ER, and she checked the label, then shook one pill out into her hand. She brought it back into the bedroom for him and watched as he washed it down with a sip of water from the glass on his bedside table. “Is that stuff helping?” she asked.

He shrugged. Leaning forward, he pulled off his prosthetic sock and then peeled back the gauze bandage that covered the ulcer. He frowned, and so did Claire, when she got a good look at it.

“It doesn’t look much better, does it?” she observed, noticing how red it still was.

“Not really,” he mumbled and sighed, raking a hand through his hair.

“Well, it’s only been two days… maybe it just takes longer to show any improvement,” Claire said hopefully, not wanting him to get discouraged. “I guess we’ll find out more at your appointment.” He nodded wordlessly. She studied him for a moment, then perched on the edge of the bed beside him. “I know this sucks, Nick,” she murmured, sliding her arm around his waist. “No use pretending it doesn’t. But it’ll go away eventually, and then everything will get back to normal.”

He snorted. “Depends on your definition of ‘normal’.”

She chose to say nothing back to that. Instead, she just ran her hand up and down his bare back, wishing she knew how to cheer him up. She hated to see him be so down on himself. It happened less and less now, but there were still days when he got depressed, and there was not much she could say or do to change that. She told herself that just being there for him was a start, but sometimes she worried it was not enough. He had been scarred by what had happened to him in the past year or so, and she knew the scars went much deeper than his skin.

But scars on the outside faded with time, she thought, as her fingers brushed over the end of the long scar that wrapped around his left side. The ones on the inside would fade too. They already had, to an extent.

“You’re warm,” Claire commented, breaking the silence. Her hand had reached the back of his neck, and she could feel heat radiating from his skin there.

“I think maybe I’m running a fever again,” he muttered, and her hand immediately went around to his face, lightly touching his cheek, then pressing against his forehead. Feeling the warmth against her palm, she nodded.

“I think so too,” she said, pursing her lips as she studied him. “Maybe we should get ready and head to the hospital, huh?”

He nodded reluctantly, but made no move to get up. “You wanna shower first?” he asked.

“Why, do I smell?” she teased, elbowing him lightly. Heck, she probably did, like beer and stale cigarette smoke from being in the bars. The clothes she’d had on last night had to smell just lovely as well.

“Nah, I was just thinking it would save time if we showered together,” he replied, turning to her and waggling his eyebrows a little.

She grinned. Now there was her Nick. “Hey, good point,” she said. “We wouldn’t want to waste time, now would we?”

“Course not. You know how eager I am to get back to the ER.”

She just laughed.

They showered together and got dressed, him in a t-shirt and shorts, her in the t-shirt of his she’d worn to bed and a baggy pair of his sweatpants. They ate a quick breakfast, then left. On the way to the hospital (he let her drive the Jag), they stopped by Claire’s apartment so that she could change clothes and brush her teeth.

By ten-thirty, Claire was sitting in an exam room at the hospital, nearly identical to the one they’d been in on Monday, watching as Dr. Yoder examined Nick.

“You’re right,” the young physician was saying, “the antibiotic isn’t working as well as it should. You should have noticed a decrease in the redness and swelling, and instead, the red area seems to be even higher on your leg. That’s a sign that the infection is starting to spread.”

Claire drew in a breath and looked at Nick, who appeared more annoyed than anything else. She felt bad for him. He seemed to have horrible luck when it came to stuff like this. He’d done everything the doctor had instructed, and still the infection hadn’t gone away. Now it was spreading. That didn’t sound good, and she wondered if there was worry beneath his mask of annoyance. She was concerned and wanted to know what this resident planned to do for him now.

“I’d like to put you on a more powerful antibiotic,” Dr. Yoder went on, without either of them having to ask, “but it can only be given intravenously – through an IV – which means you will have to be admitted to the hospital.”

“What?!” Nick cried, his expression contorting to one of pure outrage. “You want me to stay in the hospital? For how long??”

“Just a few days, and then you can switch back to an oral antibiotic and continue the treatment on an outpatient basis.”

Nick sighed and looked down, covering his hand with his face briefly before looking over at Claire. She bit her lip and looked into his eyes, not saying anything. He shifted his gaze back to the doctor. “Can this wait till after the weekend?” he asked.

Dr. Yoder shook her head. “No,” she said, “that’s not a good idea.”

“But…” Nick sighed again, his frustration evident. “I can’t be in the hospital for the next few days; I have plans on Saturday, and-“

“Nick,” Claire cut in, hoping to calm him down, “don’t worry about Saturday, okay? We can talk later; we’ll figure something out.” Moving was the least of her concerns right now; if his infection was serious enough to land him in the hospital, that was what they needed to worry about.

Nick only glanced at her briefly and didn’t reply, focusing back on the doctor instead. “What happens if I don’t do the hospital/IV crap?” he asked, an ounce of hostility in his voice.

“The infection will continue to spread,” Dr. Yoder answered him forwardly. “Cellulitis can spread very rapidly, and once it gets below all the layers of skin, it can get into your bloodstream or lymph nodes and spread throughout your body. If it isn’t treated, it could become life-threatening.”

Her heart skipping a beat, Claire’s eyes immediately flew back to Nick as she waited anxiously to hear his reply. If he was going to be a fool and refuse- No, take that back – she wouldn’t let him be a fool and refuse. She was fully prepared to use whatever tactics she could think of to make sure he did what the doctor said. This was nothing to mess around with.

Luckily, Nick knew that. Apparently the word “life-threatening” had done the trick because, subdued, he nodded. “Fine,” he mumbled, hardly audible. “When do I have to check in?”

Claire practically sighed in relief, and when he looked over at her, she gave him a tiny smile and touched his arm. Thank you.

“The sooner, the better,” Dr. Yoder answered Nick’s question. “I can call upstairs and find a room for you now, and we’ll get you admitted and upstairs in the next hour or so.” Nick nodded again, silently agreeing. “Okay,” said the doctor. “Stay here, and I’ll make the arrangements. Someone will be back to check on you soon.”

As soon as she was gone, Nick turned to Claire. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and the look in his eyes nearly broke her heart. He looked so sad, so guilty, as if he was purposely messing up their plans.

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she said soothingly, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. “You can’t help this. If you have to stay in the hospital for a few days, then you just do. It’s not something either of us can change.”

He sighed. “But what about Saturday?” he asked.

“Well…” She paused, thinking. “My dad and Kyle are already planning to drive down, and so is Howie… they’ve already rented the moving van for the weekend… and my landlord’s counting on my apartment being vacant after Saturday, so… unless you want to be there to supervise, I say we go ahead with the move. Howie’ll be there, and he knows your house even better than I do, so he can help me decide where to put stuff and everything. What do you think?”

Nick nodded. “Okay. That works. I just wish I could help…”

“Don’t worry about it. Like I said before, I’ll have plenty of men helping me; it’ll go fine.” She offered him a reassuring smile. He didn’t smile back. Oh well. Had she been in his position, she supposed she wouldn’t have felt like smiling either.

Nick closed his eyes momentarily, looking weary and feverish. When he opened them, he did not look at her, but instead bowed his head, casting his eyes down. He stayed like that for a few moments, appearing deep in thought. Finally, after a spell, he spoke, his voice so low she had to lean closer to make out his words.

“Why does shit like this constantly happen to me? It’s like no matter what I do, I can’t get away from it. Maybe I never will. Maybe it’ll be this way for the rest of my life, one shitty thing after another, until I finally just die.”

His last words hit her like blows to the chest. She’d asked herself the same kind of questions, thought the same thoughts… Why? Why is this happening? Why me? When will it end? Will it ever end? But hearing him say them out loud now frightened her, and she squeezed his hand tightly, her fingernails digging into his skin. “Nick, don’t talk like that,” she pleaded, the words coming out more shrilly than she’d expected.

“I’m sorry,” he said hollowly, without looking at her.

“This isn’t the end of the world, you know,” she added, almost angry with him now. How dare he complain about this, when he’d made it through things that were so much worse? He should be counting his blessings, not his curses. He was lucky to be alive.

And yet, she was sure he didn’t feel too lucky sometimes. Neither did she. They’d both beaten the odds… but how could they call themselves lucky, with all that they’d had to face?

Just as quickly as it had come, her anger faded. How could she be mad at him for feeling like that, when she herself had felt the same way from time to time? It was only natural.

She tried again to talk to him. “Nick, I’m sorry. I know how you feel. This sucks; it really does. It’s a setback for sure… and there might be more setbacks later down the road. But you can’t dwell on them. You gotta just keep going and concentrating on the good stuff. Like the fact that when you get out of here in a few days, I’ll be all moved in, and we’ll be together.” She paused, then added, “Of course, after about a week, you’ll probably be ready to kick me out, but…”

She looked over, happy to see a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Finally, he looked back at her. “I’d never kick you out. You’re like the one thing in my life that doesn’t suck.”

“I’m not the only thing in your life that doesn’t suck, Nick. But even so, I guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said with a wry smile. But beyond the smile, she was worried. He usually kept so much inside… she wondered if he felt this way more often than he let on.

Maybe the scars hadn’t faded so much after all.

***

Chapter 27

Déjà vu.

That’s exactly what Nick was experiencing, as he sat in a hospital bed, his back pressed against the raised head of the bed, a sheet and thin blanket pulled up over his lap. An IV bag hung on a pole beside the bed, dripping powerful antibiotics through a thin line that snaked into a vein in his left forearm, and the bedside tray held his abandoned dinner, which he’d pushed aside after only a few bland bites. An episode of “The Simpsons” played on the TV, the volume down low, but he was hardly watching.

Yep, he’d certainly been in this position before. Too many times, and too recently. It had only been six months since he’d spent over a week in the hospital, recuperating from his lung surgery. Of course, this was nothing compared to that, but it was still no picnic. He hadn’t even been admitted for six hours yet, and already, he was bored out of his mind and miserable.

Claire had hung around for awhile after he’d been moved to a private room shortly before lunch, but she’d gone home three hours ago to pack some more. She had promised she would be back later that evening, and he found himself wishing she’d get there soon so that he would at least have someone to talk to, someone to take his mind off of his discomfort.

In the meantime, he found himself thinking about the upcoming weekend. It was already Thursday, and the doctor in the ER had said he would probably be here for “a few days.” Which meant he probably wouldn’t be discharged by Saturday. He hated the idea that he wouldn’t even be around to help Claire get moved in, and even worse, that he might not even get to spend Saturday night at the house with her. He had been planning to do something nice for her – a romantic dinner, maybe a DVD (something she liked – a romantic comedy, perhaps?), a nice long soak in the Jacuzzi upstairs, scented candles burning all around, and finally, bed. Together. But the whole “together” part wouldn’t work if he was still stuck here, unable to do anything for or with her.

He was feeling sorry for himself, and for her too. The weekend would be ruined for both of them, and Claire deserved better than that. She deserved to be pampered and treated like a queen who had just taken the throne in her new palace, not left to fend for herself because her “king” was laid up in a hospital bed. It just wasn’t fair.

He couldn’t help but be angry. Angry at himself, for getting into such a predicament. Angry at Jamie, for showing off for Claire and giving Nick the push to learn to run again in the first place. Angry at his C-Leg, for giving him a blister when he’d run on it. Angry at the blister, for turning into an ulcer. Angry at the ulcer, for getting infected. Angry at the infection, for not going away. Angry at the antibiotics, for not working. Angry at Dr. Yoder, for making him stay in the hospital. And on and on it went. At that moment, he was basically pissed off at the world.

With a derisive snort, he thought about what Howie might say if he could hear Nick’s self-pitying thoughts. Surely he would give Nick a nice long pep talk – that was Howie’s way. He’d given Nick a lot of them over the years, especially recently, and as much as Nick hated them, he loved them. Despite the fact that Brian was his best friend and that Kevin was the one he usually came to first for advice, Nick had always been glad it was AJ and Howie who had volunteered to live him for those first few months after the amputation, when he was still learning how to get around on his own again. AJ, with his casual air and flair for joking his way out of uncomfortable situations, had managed to keep him laughing through a period of time when he’d thought he would never have anything to smile about again. And Howie, with his unyielding support and compassion, had simply been there with him through everything, from his health problems to problems with Claire, offering him a pick-me-up when he needed it, a listening ear when he wanted to talk, and a shoulder to cry on when he didn’t. Claire had always been the best person to talk to about anything concerning his illness, but Howie had definitely become a close second. Howie hadn’t been there firsthand, the way Claire had, but in a way, he still understood. That was the good thing about Howie – he always seemed to understand.

And that was why, at that moment, Nick decided to call Howie. Not only would Howie need to know what had happened, since he was driving to Tampa on Saturday to help with the move, but right then, Nick really just wanted to talk to him, to hear his warm, familiar voice offering words of hope and encouragement. He needed some of Howie’s optimism to counteract the pessimistic, angry thoughts that had been whirling through his head.

Howie answered his cell phone on the second ring, although his “Hello?” was not one of recognition.

Oh duh, thought Nick, realizing he was calling from his hospital room line and not his cell. Of course Howie wouldn’t know who was calling; his name wouldn’t show up on the caller ID. “Hey Howie, it’s Nick,” he said, trying to brighten his voice.

“Nicky, hey!” Howie’s tone had changed instantly to one of warmth and friendliness. “What’s up, man? Getting geared up for Saturday and stuff like that?”

As his stomach clenched, Nick smiled weakly. Howie knew just how excited he had been to have Claire move in with him. He still was… but the excitement of the actual move-in day was gone, replaced with the sick realization that all his plans were going to be ruined now. “Well, uh…” he struggled; what was he supposed to say to that? “Kinda… but not so much.”

There was a moment of silence on Howie’s end; then, “Oh no… she changed her mind?”

“No, she’s still moving in,” Nick replied quickly. “But I don’t think it’s gonna work out quite like how I’d planned. I, uh… I kinda did something dumb last Saturday…”

“What did you do?” Howie prompted after another pause.

“Well… I decided I was going to learn to run again,” started Nick. “So I went out in the backyard and… well, ran. Only apparently it wasn’t such a good idea to run around the yard for an hour, cause I got a blister on the end of my stump, and it got worse, and I found out it was really like a pressure ulcer thingie, and it got infected, and I went to the doctor and she gave me some antibiotics, but they didn’t really help, so… I’m kind of in the hospital right now.”

He said this all fairly fast, and it apparently took Howie a moment to absorb all the information, for it was after yet another pause when Howie asked, “Wait, you’re in the hospital?”

“Yeah… the doc made me check in this morning so I could get some more powerful IV antibiotics. It sucks.”

“Oh man… that sounds terrible. Are you okay?? How serious is it?” Howie asked, his voice brimming with sympathy and concern.

“Eh, I’m fine, dude,” Nick assured him casually. “It’s not that bad, more of a pain in the ass than anything else. The doc said I’d probably have to stay here for a few days though.”

“Oh no… so, Saturday…?”

“Yeah, it’s lookin’ like I might not even be around for the move,” Nick told him glumly.

“Aw… I’m sorry, Nicky. So she’s still planning to move in on Saturday then?”

“Yeah, we can’t really push it back cause her dad already rented a truck for this weekend, and her landlord wants her out of her apartment and stuff. So we gotta do it this Saturday still.”

“Well, I’m definitely still coming to help, so don’t worry about a thing, Nick. I’m sure it will go smoothly.”

“Yeah,” Nick replied hollowly, then continued, “I’m not really worried about that though. I was more thinking along the lines of Saturday night… I wanted to do something special for her, D… you know, her first night in the house and all? Now I won’t be able to. She’ll be there all alone.”

“Well, I could stay the night, if you don’t want her alone…”

Nick laughed. “Damn, Howie, like I want you shacking up with my woman while I’m not around?”

“Well I didn’t mean like that!” Howie exclaimed quickly, sounding flustered. “I just meant-“

“I know what you meant, D, I’m just playin’,” Nick replied, laughing some more as he imagined the embarrassed look on Howie’s face. Sobering, he added, “Nah, I’m not worried about her staying alone or anything… but I wanted to be with her. I wanted to make it special, and now it just won’t be.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, Nick. She’ll understand though.”

“I know she will,” Nick sighed, “but still.”

“I know what you mean,” said Howie. “Well, if there’s anything I can do…”

As Howie trailed off, Nick thought for a moment, ideas beginning to stream through his mind. “Actually,” he began slowly, “Maybe there is something…”

***

Nick hung up the phone feeling much better than he had when he had picked it up. His mood improved even more when he heard a rhythmic knock on his door and looked up to see Claire’s head poking into the room. He smiled. “Hey, get in here!” he called, beckoning to her.

A grin spread instantly over Claire’s face, and she inched in, using her butt to nudge the door shut. Her hands were behind her back, and he knew she had something in them, something she was trying to hide.

“Whatcha got?” he asked, beaming cheekily at her. “Somethin’ for me?”

“Psh, why would I get something for you?” she asked as she whipped her right hand out from behind her back, producing a bouquet of flowers. Half a dozen yellow roses amid delicate bunches of baby’s breath, and, blushing from the center of the sunny arrangement, a single red rose.

Smiling at the sentiment, Nick took the tissue-wrapped bouquet and cradled it in his arms, lightly running a finger over one of the velvety rose petals. “Thanks, baby,” he said, looking back up at her.

She shrugged. “I thought they might help brighten this place up a bit. And since I figured you might be lonely without me later tonight, I brought someone to keep you company too.” Moving her other hand out from behind her back, she handed him a small stuffed gorilla. He laughed when he saw it, and she grinned. “He reminded me of King Kong,” she explained with a wink.

“Ah… he kinda does look like ol’ Kong,” said Nick, stroking the stuffed animal’s soft black fur and poking at one of its dark glass eyes. “Little small though.”

“Yeah, but he’s the perfect size for hugging at night,” she replied with a sweet, girlish smile.

Nick stuck his tongue out. “I’d rather be hugging you.”

“That can be arranged.” Setting her purse down at the foot of his bed, she came up closer and leaned down for a hug, careful not to bump his IV line. As she pulled back, stopping to brush her mouth against his on the way, she asked, “You doin’ okay?” Her voice was casual, but he could see the concern in her eyes when they met his.

He nodded. “Doin’ okay,” he repeated assuredly. “I just got off the phone with Howie.”

“Oh, good,” she smiled, pulling a chair up to the side of his bed to sit down. “I thought one of us better call him and fill him in on what’s going on.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah. He decided he’s gonna come into town tomorrow afternoon and get a hotel room for the night.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” said Claire. “Then you guys will have some time to hang out too.”

“Psh yeah, just around this place,” Nick muttered disdainfully, his nose wrinkling as he looked around the insipid hospital room.

“Yeah, yeah… well, don’t knock this place too much. It’s not all bad. It is where we first met, you know.”

Nick couldn’t help but smile, thinking of the unconventional way in which they’d become acquainted. “True,” he said with a dry chuckle. “That’ll sure make for a romantic story to tell our kids someday.” He rolled his eyes before looking back at her. When he did, she smiled, but it was a weak smile, one that didn’t quite make it to her eyes. He frowned, momentarily perplexed; then it hit him.

Our kids.

“Hypothetically speaking, I mean,” he added quickly, hoping he hadn’t struck a nerve in her. The weekend he’d spent at her parents’ house, when she had told him she was infertile, he’d walked on eggshells around her, careful not to say anything that might hurt her. But she had told him then that she had come to accept it, and he had quickly seen that she had, or so it seemed. He could tell she was genuinely thrilled for her brother and sister-in-law, who were expecting their first child, and after that weekend, the issue had slipped his mind. Like he’d told her then, it didn’t make a difference to him, and so it was not something he had given much more thought. But he should have thought about it before he’d spoken just now; the last thing he wanted to do was upset her.

To his relief, she smiled again, and this time it looked genuine. “Of course,” she said lightly. “Then we can go on to tell them about our first few ‘dates’ in the cancer clinic and how the first time you told me you loved me was in the Emergency Room.” She slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze, along with a wry smile. “We’re something, aren’t we?”

“We sure are,” Nick agreed with a chuckle, touched that she remembered that terrible, yet wonderful moment in the ER last December as well as he did; that she, too, knew it as the first time they had spoken those three words to each other – I love you.

As the words formed in his mind, their eyes met, and for a few breaths, they simply gazed at one another in silence. It was Claire who broke the silence first, her eyes sliding over to his deserted dinner tray. “How was dinner?” she asked, and the topic of conversation was changed instantly as she lifted the cover off one of the dishes on the tray and wrinkled her nose at the uneaten contents beneath it. “Not so good, eh?”

Nick simply snorted. She knew just as well as he did that hospital food was not exactly fine dining. It ranked right up there with airplane food in Nick’s book.

“Well,” Claire went on, “if you’re hungry, I can at least go on a vending machine run, find you something edible to smuggle in.”

“Nah, don’t bother, I’m not really hungry anyway,” Nick declined, finding it amusing that Cheetos and Twinkies from a vending machine would be considered “edible” compared to the full meal provided by the hospital.

Claire nodded.

After a lull in the conversation, Nick asked, “So… how’s the packing going?”

“Eh, it’s coming along,” replied Claire. “I’ll do some more when I get home tonight, and then I’ll only have a little bit left to do tomorrow.”

“Good,” said Nick, feeling bad that she’d had to do it all by herself; if he’d been able, he would have spent that day and the next at her apartment, helping her. Once again, he cursed his leg and the ulcer and the infection and the entire situation. He supposed it could have been worse though – at least she hadn’t recruited Jamie to come help her instead, since he was in town. Speaking of which… “So, Jamie’s flying home tomorrow, right?”

“Oh yeah… he is,” Claire said, as if that fact had just dawned on her. “And crap, I think he’s expecting me and Di to go out for breakfast with him tomorrow.” Nick was pleased to see that she didn’t exactly looked thrilled about this. “I don’t know if I’m going to though,” Claire went on, looking torn. “I’ve still got a lot to do, and with you being stuck here…”

Nick tried hard not to smile. Okay, maybe being in the hospital wasn’t such a bad thing, if it meant scoring points with Claire. Wednesday night, she had ditched him for Jamie, with the excuse that Jamie only had a couple of days left in town. Now she seemed to be on the verge of ditching Jamie for him. He was about to play the sympathy card, telling her how much more appealing his breakfast the next morning would seem if she were there to critique it with him, but at the last minute, he changed his mind. “Aw, don’t worry about me,” he said. “Do the breakfast thing with Jamie while he’s still in town, and maybe you can smuggle some real food in here for me at lunch.” What the hell did he care if she ate breakfast with Jamie? Either way, the guy would be gone by tomorrow afternoon, and Nick would have her all to himself again.

Claire hesitated only a moment, then smiled and said, “Okay, that sounds like a plan.” She paused, then added, “Thanks for understanding, Nick,” and leaned over to kiss him softly.

Now Nick let himself smile – more points scored. “No problem, babe,” he replied, suddenly enjoying the role of the “understanding” boyfriend. “I know Jamie’s your bud.” Bud, he repeated to himself. That’s all they were these days. Buddies. Friends who lived over a thousand miles apart.

As far as he was concerned, there was really no reason to be jealous.

***

Jamie called as soon as Claire got out to her car later that evening. She’d had her cell phone turned off inside the hospital and had only turned it back on just now – she figured he’d been trying to call her for awhile. Part of her was still angry at him for what had happened in the bar the night before – her bruised knuckles had been a painful reminder of that all day – but she knew she couldn’t hold that against him for long. He was leaving the next day, and she would have felt bad if she didn’t see him again before he left.

They spoke only briefly on the phone, just long to decide on a place and time to meet for breakfast the next morning. Jamie offered to call Dianna and confirm their plans, and Claire used the fact that she was driving home in the dark as an excuse to get off the phone with him. As soon as she’d hung up, she set the phone aside and turned up the radio, but her mind immediately wandered, tuning out the song that was playing.

She could not get over what Nick had said earlier that night. That’ll sure make for a romantic story to tell our kids someday.

The words played over and over in her mind like a broken record that had begun to skip. Our kids someday… someday… someday…

The way he’d said it so casually, as if it seemed perfectly natural to him, she could only think one thing – Nick was planning a future with her.

Okay, maybe ‘planning’ wasn’t the right word. But, clearly, he had at least envisioned a future with her. Or so it seemed. And that had caught her by surprise.

It wasn’t like she herself hadn’t envisioned a future with him. She had… as she had with other guys before him. All her life, she’d dreamed of getting married and having a family someday. She supposed that at some point, she’d wondered of every man she’d dated, Could he be the one? Usually it did not take long for the answer to become glaringly obvious – No! Tim was one of those. But just once, she’d thought, Yes. That had been when she was with Jamie. Of course, she was only eighteen then, young and idealistic, planning a perfect future for herself. She and Jamie would date all through college, and once they had both graduated, they would get married. He would work, and she would go to dental school, and when the time was right, they would start a family together.

Of course, none of that had happened. They’d broken up before the summer before their first year of college (which had broken her heart in the process), and not even two years later, she’d gotten sick. College had been put on hold, dental school forgotten, and eventually, her natural ability to bear children taken away from her.

For awhile, it seemed like all her dreams had been shattered, her perfectly planned-out future reduced to nothing but a big question mark.

But now she was twenty-five, healthy once again, and back in a serious relationship, this time with Nick. And she had envisioned a future with him, asked herself the big question – Could he be the one?

It was certainly possible. She loved Nick like she had loved no once since Jamie. He was not just a boyfriend, but her best friend, and to her, “the one” had to be both. But at the same time, they hadn’t even been together six months yet. It seemed too soon to start thinking seriously about more than just a relationship – marriage, children, and the like. And in a way, she was almost afraid to start thinking about all of that. The future was uncertain, and theirs seemed even more uncertain than most – who knew where they would be in five years? Or in two years, or even one? Just two years ago, she didn’t even know if she would be alive now, and even though she’d been in remission for almost two years, there were still no guarantees. It was the same for him.

But maybe that’s all the more reason to start thinking about it, she thought. Life was precious; there was nothing better than a life-threatening illness to make a person realize that. All the days she’d spent getting sick from chemotherapy treatments had made her appreciate the days when she felt well even more, and the fear of death had given her the desire to live as much as she could. And that meant doing things she ordinarily wouldn’t have done, taking chances, refusing to be afraid.

Nick was right in what he’d said to her before she’d agreed to move in with him. “I know neither of us know what’s going to happen in the future, whether we’re always going to be together or not, but we are now, and I think now is the time to focus on us… Life’s all about taking risks – you and I both know that.”

If he practiced what he preached, it made sense that he would have thought about their future together. He’d said he was just speaking hypothetically, but that had come after a pause, during which she was sure she had reacted visibly to his words. “That’ll sure make for a romantic story to tell our kids someday.” She wasn’t sure it was so hypothetical.

And then another thought came to her. Maybe it was because he said ‘our kids’… maybe he thought I was upset because of that. It wouldn’t have been the first time it had happened – not with Nick, but with other people. Her family and friends – the female ones especially – were always very guarded around her when it came to the topic of having children, as if the very mention of being pregnant or having a baby would throw her into some emotional upheaval. This never failed to annoy her – didn’t they realize she was stronger than that? The loss of her fertility had been devastating at first, but it was not the end of the world. She looked at it as a sacrifice, one she’d had to make in order to go on living her life. Nick had made a very different sacrifice for the same reason. Neither were easy, but both were something they had to eventually come to terms with, and she had. She knew she would never be able to get pregnant the way most women could, but that didn’t mean she would never have children. There was always adoption, of course, and other options she hadn’t even talked about with Nick yet.

She would, someday, if they became more serious than they were now. But as far as she was concerned, they had a ways to go. Right now, she was content just to think about the next step, living with him. It was less than two days away, she realized, as she pulled into the parking lot outside her apartment complex. In two days, this place wouldn’t be her home anymore. Nick’s house would be.

But that’s a good thing, she thought with a smile as she parked her Toyota right next to his silver Jag. The Jaguar had been sitting in the lot ever since she’d come back from the hospital earlier, without Nick. She’d traded it with her own car to drive back that evening, not feeling entirely comfortable driving his nice car around without him in it. As she shut off her ignition and climbed out, she made a mental note to recruit Howie to help her get the Jag back to Nick’s house the next day.

By the time she had walked into the building and plodded up the steep staircase Nick hated, her thoughts had come to rest, and her mind was now on the task that lay ahead – more packing.

Oh, the joys.

***

Chapter 28

Claire woke up the next morning feeling like she’d hardly slept at all. She’d lain awake for what seemed like forever the night before, tossing and turning, her mind bombarded with thoughts from all directions. On top of the stress of moving, which she’d been battling all week, Nick was in the hospital, and even though she had done her best to hide it around him, she couldn’t help but worry. The infection seemed minor compared to everything else he’d been through in the time she’d known him, but she knew only too well that little problems could easily escalate into big ones, serious ones. She had tried to reassure herself with the knowledge that at least he was in the hospital, where he would be taken care of and treated, and eventually, she’d drifted off into a restless slumber.

Now awake, yet still bleary-eyed, Claire sat sleepily at the edge of her bed and tried to find the motivation to stand up. You’re supposed to meet Di and Jamie in an hour, she reminded herself, knowing she would hardly have enough time to shower and get ready by then. She’d probably be late for their breakfast. Oh well; it wouldn’t be the first time. Knowing this about her, Jamie had purposely arranged for them to meet early, giving him plenty of time before he had to be at the airport to catch his flight home to Iowa.

Still, she didn’t want to be too late, so she finally forced herself to her feet and staggered into the tiny bathroom across the hall. Last shower in the apartment, she thought as she quickly removed her clothes and pulled back the plastic shower curtain, turning on the water in the shower. Then she laughed at herself – why was she being nostalgic about the stupid shower, with its walls that always seemed to get streaked with soap-scum, despite her best efforts to keep it clean, and its slow drain that was forever clogging up on her? She was trading this tiny old apartment for a huge house filled with luxuries, and even so, she knew she’d be doing this all day – last meal in the apartment… last time washing dishes in the kitchen sink… last night sleeping in my own bed… She was looking forward to living with Nick, but it was going to be kind of hard to leave this place behind – it wasn’t much, but it was her first apartment, and in the three years she’d lived there, she’d grown to love it.

She took too long of a shower, savoring the feel of the hot water pounding against her tired body, the softness of her hair when it was lathered thick with shampoo suds, and the silkiness of it as she rinsed it free of sweet-smelling conditioner. By the time she reluctantly climbed out, wrapping a large towel around her dripping form, she was running very late. She dried quickly and threw on the first articles of clothing she could find in her near-empty closet, then went back into the bathroom to try to make herself look presentable. She dragged a comb through her wet hair and, deciding she would not have enough time to blow dry it, opted to slick it back into a short ponytail in the back of her head. She slid a couple of bobby pins in on each side of her head to keep the shorter locks of hair from falling loose as they dried, and then haphazardly slapped on some makeup – a light coat of powder foundation to even out her complexion, a dusting of blush along her cheekbones, and a touch of mascara to darken her eyelashes. She brushed her teeth, smoothed on some lip gloss, and darted out of the bathroom to find that she would have just enough time to make it to the restaurant on time.

She made it with a minute to spare and found Jamie already there, sitting by himself at a table set for three. She nearly groaned; of course Dianna was late – it had always been she who was the least punctual of the three. Claire was used to it, but she couldn’t help being annoyed that morning – couldn’t Dianna have hurried just a little, to spare Claire the awkwardness of having to sit there alone with Jamie? After what had happened on Wednesday night, she was almost nervous around him, but of course she tried not to let it show, pasting a smile on her face as she said hello and slid into a seat directly across the table from him.

“Morning,” Jamie greeted her with a quick smile. “Sleep well?”

“Eh,” she muttered vaguely, not wanting to get into why she hadn’t slept well. She had already decided not to tell him what was going on with Nick; after what his jackass of a friend had called Nick, she didn’t feel like mentioning him or anything that had to do with his amputated leg.

Jamie snickered at her response. “You never have been much of a morning person.”

“Yeah, well, who is?” Claire retorted flatly.

A minute later, Dianna appeared. She was dressed cutely in a pair of loose-fitting white capris that showed off her deep tan and a low-cut top in a bright shade of aqua. Her dark hair was dried, curled, and spritzed into place with hairspray – styled to perfection, as always. Her makeup was equally perfect, and as usual, Claire felt very plain sitting next to her. As usual, Claire did not really care.

“Morning, y’all,” Dianna chirped, setting her purse (which coordinated with her outfit, of course – the girl had as many purses as there were days in the year, or so it seemed) down on the floor beside her seat. “Sorry I’m a couple minutes late.”

Jamie glanced at his watch and then smirked up at Dianna. “More like five – but hey, that’s not bad at all for you, Dianna.”

“Shut up, James,” Dianna snapped sweetly and picked up her menu. “Do you two know what you want yet? I’m starving.”

“I don’t,” Claire replied, realizing she hadn’t even looked at the menu yet. She picked it up and tilted it toward her, flipping it open to read.

As she started to scan the menu items, Jamie blurted, “Hey, lemme see your hand.”

Her chin lifting sharply as she looked over the top of the menu at him, Claire realized he was talking about her right hand, which sported a lovely rainbow of black, blue, purple, and green around her slightly-swollen knuckles. Following Jamie’s gaze, Dianna gasped aloud. “Claire! What did you do to your hand??”

Claire smirked across the table at Jamie, and he smirked back, each wondering who would be the one to tell their friend that story. “I punched his friend’s face in at a bar the other night,” Claire answered Dianna matter-of-factly, before Jamie had the chance.

Dianna’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious??”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wow…” Dianna grinned, looking momentarily proud before turning serious again. “Why??”

“Cause he was an ass,” Claire replied simply.

“He kinda dissed her boyfriend,” Jamie clarified. “Not on purpose though – he didn’t mean it in a bad way.” This last part was directed to Claire, who just shook her head.

“Right,” she muttered sarcastically and left it at that, hoping Jamie would drop the issue as well. She didn’t want to rehash everything that had gone on Wednesday night.

Meanwhile, Dianna kept glancing between the two of them, her eyes wide, and finally she said, “Oookay then… forget I asked.” She offered Claire a small smile and a look that said, You can tell me later, when he’s gone. Claire nodded shortly, offering her friend a tight smile back before she returned her attention to the menu in front of her.

With Dianna there, the tension between Claire and Jamie took a backseat, and once they’d ordered their breakfast, the three of them had talked and laughed the way they always had. Jamie was himself again, not the stranger she’d seen in the bar, the rude show-off who would do or say anything to get a laugh from his friends. And when it came time for him to leave, she was sad to see him go.

Standing next to his rental car in the parking lot, she hugged him and felt his arms envelop her tightly, the smell of his cologne tickling her nose as he pulled her up against his firm chest. She pulled away after a few moments and took a step back as he released her, looking up at him with a weak smile. “Have a safe flight home,” she said.

“Yeah… hope your move goes well,” he replied.

“Thanks.”

They smiled awkwardly at each other, and after a moment of silence, Jamie said, “Well, ladies… I better get going.”

Dianna and Claire both nodded, stepping away from the car to let him get in. He did so, putting down his window once he was inside.

“Take care of yourself, Jamie,” Dianna told him through the open window.

Jamie nodded, smiling slightly. “You too,” he replied, and then his eyes shifted to Claire, giving her a meaningful look. “Both of you.” Claire smiled a little and said nothing. “Well… see ya around,” said Jamie, and the engine of the car sprung to life as the automatic window went up. Claire shook her head as he put the car into gear and backed out of his parking space, giving them a single wave through the windshield before pulling away. That was Jamie for you – he hated saying goodbye, so he just didn’t say it. It was always something like “see ya around,” then a quick escape, before things had a chance to get emotional.

She and Dianna stood in silence for a moment before Dianna finally turned to her. “So,” she said, “care to give me any more details on what happened Wednesday night?”

Claire shrugged. “It really wasn’t anything. His friends were jerks, one of them called Nick a rude name, and I kinda flipped out and hit the guy before leaving. That’s all.”

“Good for you,” Dianna said with an appreciative smile. “Think his face looks anything like the back of your hand?”

Claire grinned. “I hope so.”

Dianna laughed, then asked, “So, speaking of Nick, how will you two be spending your Friday night? Just getting everything ready for tomorrow, or do you have plans?”

Sobering, Claire quickly filled Dianna in on what had happened to Nick and how he’d probably be stuck in the hospital for most of the weekend.

“Oh man, that sucks,” Dianna said sympathetically. “Well, if you need anything, girl, give me a call. We can do something Saturday night if he’s not gonna be home and you don’t feel like staying in that big house all by yourself.” She winked, and Claire smiled sheepishly, knowing exactly what she was thinking of.

Claire had been seventeen at the time, and her parents were out of town for the weekend. Jamie had come over to hang out for the evening, and they’d rented the movie Scream, which had just come out on video. Claire had never seen it before, and after Jamie left that night, she’d freaked herself out, imagining masked killers lurking the in the dark outside, watching her through windows she could not see out of, plotting to break into her house. Every noise made her jump, and her blood ran cold every time the phone rang. She’d nearly been in tears by the time she had called Dianna and demanded that her friend drive over to pick her up. Dianna had faithfully come over to calm her down and bring her back to her house to spend the night, but she’d never let her live it down. It had been a joke between the two ever since.

“Thanks, Di, but I’ll be fine,” Claire asserted. “I’m a big girl now.”

“Okay,” Dianna smiled. “Well, I better let you get going; I know you’ve got plenty of stuff to do. Give Nick my best.”

“I will,” said Claire, returning the smile. “Well, I’ll see ya whenever. You should definitely plan on coming over to the house sometime next week or something.”

“Oh yeah, for sure! I can’t wait to see the place,” Dianna replied enthusiastically. “Good luck getting all moved in tomorrow.”

“Thanks. I’ll call you if I get bored tomorrow night, but chances are, I’ll be too tired to do anything.”

“Understandable,” said Dianna. “Well, catch ya later.”

With that, the two women parted, walking across the parking lot in opposite directions to their cars.

When Claire had climbed into her Toyota and started the engine, her eyes slid over to the digital clock. It was going on 9:30. Nick had told her Howie wasn’t expecting to get into town until early afternoon, so Claire decided to head straight to the hospital. She could spend a few hours with Nick, then head home to finish up the last of the packing and give Howie and Nick a chance to visit.

Pulling out of the parking lot, she turned in the direction Tampa General.

***

Within his private room at Tampa General, Nick sat up in bed, picking at his breakfast. It surely wouldn’t compare to the breakfast Claire was eating with her friends, but then again, even if he had a heaping pile of homemade pancakes, slathered with butter and drowning in maple syrup, sitting on the tray in front of him, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to eat much of it. Somehow, this place just seemed to ruin his appetite.

Still, he had to admit, he was feeling a little better that morning than he had the day before. The fever he’d been running had broken, a sign that the antibiotics were doing their job. The infection, however, was painful. The nurses had kept the ulcer on his leg covered by a sterile dressing, but beneath the large bandage, the whole end of his limb burned and throbbed uncomfortably. It had bothered him the day before, and he’d finally complained about it after Claire had left in the evening. The pain meds they had given him helped, but they’d also made him groggy – which was great when he’d been trying to sleep, but he didn’t want to be in some drug-induced haze when Howie got there later that day, so he’d turned down the pain medication that morning.

He was just beginning to regret that, when a familiar voice called, “Gooood morning!”

He looked up to find Claire leaning into the doorway and smiled, the pain in his leg instantly fading from his mind. “Morning, sunshine,” he replied, as she walked into the room, dropping her purse and bending over to kiss him, just as she had done the day before.

“Not a good morning?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Not especially. Better now that you’re here though.”

“Aww, you’re sweet.”

“How was breakfast?”

“Fine. And yours?”

“Eh.”

She looked at his tray. “I see.”

He pushed the tray aside and scooted over a little to his left, patting the empty space on the right side of bed for her. She sat down and reached out to pat his good thigh beneath the thin blanket that covered it. “So,” she said, “did you sleep okay last night?”

“Surprisingly, yeah,” he answered. “They gave me some drugs that helped.”

“Ahh… drugs are good.”

“Yep.”

They talked for awhile longer, in between interruptions by the orderly who came by to pick up his hardly-touched breakfast and the nurse who breezed in shortly after. “Hi, I’m Karyn,” the nurse introduced herself. “How are you doing this morning, Mr. Carter?”

“Fine, thanks,” Nick answered mechanically.

“Good. How would you like to get up and take a little stroll around the floor?”

Nick snorted to himself, amused by the way she phrased the question. How would you like to? As if he had a choice. Ha. He’d been in the hospital enough recently to know that was not the case – these people forced your ass out of bed and got you walking around whether you wanted to or not. Something about blood clots forming if you laid around for too long and didn’t move.

He nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, okay,” he agreed dully.

“Great. Hang on one minute, and I’ll be right back.”

Karyn left the room, and Nick immediately looked over at Claire. “I hate this,” he told her.

Claire offered him a sympathetic smile. “I know,” she replied.

The nurse returned a few moments later, carrying – Nick nearly died when he saw it – a walker.

“Ohhh no,” he resisted immediately, “I don’t need that thing. I’ve got a pair of crutches over there.” He pointed to the far corner, where the crutches he’d come on were leaning.

Karyn shook her head. “I wouldn’t recommend trying to walk on crutches when you’ve got an IV,” she said. “The walker will be easier to maneuver with and will give you more stability as well.”

Nick sighed. Yeah, she was probably right, but he didn’t want to admit it, nor did he want to be seen shuffling down the hall with a walker like an old man.

Karyn didn’t give him much of a choice though. She made him scoot to the edge of the bed and gave him a thin robe to put on over the hospital gown he was wearing before setting the walker in front of him and helping him stand up. Reluctantly gripping the sides of the walker, Nick turned his head to look back at Claire. “No jokes,” he warned her.

Claire let her mouth fall open, pretending to be shocked by his insinuation. “Aw, Stumpy, I’d never make fun of you,” she said with a playful smile. He couldn’t help but smile back, sticking his tongue out her afterward, while the nurse glanced between the two of them, looking slightly appalled.

“Okay, let’s just get this over with,” Nick said with a sigh. “Hey Ren, you comin’ with?”

“Sure,” replied Claire, sliding off the other side of the bed and coming around.

“You can wheel his IV pole along next to him if you’d like to help out, Ren,” Karyn said kindly to Claire. Nick inhaled a snort. She thought Claire’s name was really ‘Ren.’ Classic.

“Okay,” Claire said, winking at Nick as she moved over to the metal IV stand.

“Are you ready, Mr. Carter?” Karyn asked. “We’ll take this as slow as you want to.”

“Actually, I’m fine,” said Nick, thinking how much of a breeze this was going to be compared to the last two times he’d been in the hospital and had been forced to get up and walk around. “We don’t need to go slow.”

“All right. Well, you set the pace then.”

‘The pace’ proved to be slower than Nick would have liked. It was annoyingly time-consuming to move the walker ahead of him and then haul his body forward to meet it, while Claire pushed his IV pole along beside him. Still, it felt good to be out of bed, up and moving around again, so he tried not to complain as they slowly made their way up the hall.

At one point, he looked over at Claire and teased, “Think this is a snapshot of how it’s gonna be when we’re old and falling apart?” She just laughed, small creases appearing at the corners of her eyes. He wondered if those creases would turn into permanent wrinkles as she aged and surprised himself with the thought. He’d never considered how she would look later on in life, but now he found himself trying to picture her as an old woman. How long would it take for her red hair to fade and turn to silver? Would her naturally slender body pack on pounds as the decades passed, or would she simply shrink and shrivel into one of those stooped, frail little old ladies?

The thoughts were strange ones to be having as he plodded methodically along the hallway, but he found them interesting nevertheless. And perhaps most interesting of all was the realization that he wouldn’t mind seeing her grow old, watching as her youthful prettiness faded with the passing years. And the reflection that maybe he wouldn’t mind growing old right along with her.

“Doing all right?” Karyn asked from behind him, jarring him from his thoughts.

“Yup, doing fine,” Nick murmured distractedly, as he moved the walker forward and took another step.

***

Later in the day, Nick was back in his room and alone again, as Claire had headed home after lunch to finish up all the last-minute things she had to do before tomorrow. He was just flipping through the afternoon soaps on TV when he heard a familiar voice out in the hall, growing louder as it approached his room. Sitting up straighter in his bed, Nick quickly changed the channel to ESPN and looked up just in time to see his doorknob turn. He smiled as Howie’s familiar face peeked around the door and called, “Yo, D!”

“Well hello there, Forrest,” was Howie’s greeting as he walked into the room.

Nick cocked his head to the side as he stared at his friend. “Forrest?” he repeated.

“Yeah, Forrest. Forrest Gu-ump,” Howie said in a horrible Tom Hanks/Forrest Gump impression. “You know… ‘That boy sho’ is a runnin’ fool’.” He winked.

“Oh…” Nick got it now. “’Run, Forrest, run!” he added in a high-pitched, thick Southern accent and smiled impishly. Funny, he felt more like Lieutenant Dan.

Howie laughed and came up to Nick’s bed, leaning over to give him a big hug. “It’s good to see ya, Nicky.”

“You too, Howie,” Nick returned the sentiments, patting Howie’s back. “Did you just get into town?”

“Yeah, about an hour ago,” replied Howie, sinking down into a chair off to the side of the bed. “I got checked into my hotel room, dropped my stuff off, grabbed a bite to eat, and here I am.” He smiled briefly, the smile fading as his eyes left Nick’s face and looked over the rest of him, from the IV line taped against his arm to the bulge of his injured stump beneath the covers. “So… you told me what happened on the phone, but…” He trailed off, shrugging, then asked, “How are you?”

“Okay,” Nick said. “Better. The antibiotics seem to be helping, so hopefully I’ll be able to blow this joint sometime over the weekend.” Oh yeah, that was the other thing that had happened while Claire had been there – the new doctor he’d been assigned to after moving to his new room, Dr. Robson, had stopped by for a wound check. In all honestly, Nick hadn’t thought the infected ulcer looked any better, but the doctor had seemed optimistic, especially after finding that his temperature was almost back to normal. Nick hoped the new antibiotics really were doing their job because he wanted to go home as soon as possible.

“That’s great,” Howie replied, smiling again. “So do you have any idea how long it will take for it to fully heal? The ulcer, I mean.”

“I don’t know…” Nick said slowly, wishing he did know. He made a mental note to ask Dr. Robson next time he saw him. “I hope it goes away soon, cause I can’t really wear my leg with it there.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured. It probably hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it ain’t too comfortable, that’s for sure,” Nick admitted.

Howie’s large brown eyes were filled with sympathy. “I’m sorry. I know this has gotta be really hard for you.” Nick just shrugged and nodded. “So, stop me if I’m bugging you with all the questions, but I didn’t get a chance to ask you on the phone… how did the running go?”

“Oh,” Nick said, almost caught off-guard – sometimes he forgot that’s what had caused all of this in the first place; that hour in the backyard seemed like it had taken place years ago, rather than days. “Well, actually, it went okay. I mean, other than causing this mess.” He motioned vaguely down the left side of his body. “You won’t believe it, D, but I was really doing it. I was really out there running.”

Howie shook his head in amazement. “That’s incredible, Nicky! How did it feel?”

“Good… really good,” Nick answered honestly, smiling at the memory of how proud he’d felt in that moment when he’d realized he was actually running, for the first time in over a year. “Like, it was so weird at first… cause I really had to think about it, you know. Think about how to run. It’s such a second-nature thing; you just do it, right? But it’s not that simple for me anymore. But even so, once I got going, it wasn’t really that hard. I mean, it was… it took a lot more energy than I thought. But it was just… cool.”

Howie, who had been listening with interest the whole time, nodded slowly. “That is cool. Really cool.” Grinning, he reached out and playfully punched Nick’s shoulder. “I’m proud of ya, bud,” he said. “Have you told any of the other guys yet?” Nick shook his head no. “Me neither; haven’t talked to anybody since you called yesterday. But you should give them a call; they’d be thrilled. Brian especially – he probably can’t wait to get back on the court and play some real basketball with you.”

Nick chuckled. “Well, I dunno about that happening anytime soon, but we’ll see. I guess I should call them though. The Old Man’ll probably freak out on me when he finds out I’ve been in the hospital for two days without him knowing.”

“True,” Howie laughed. “Maybe it’d be better to wait till you get out, or he’ll want to fly all the way out here to lecture you in person.” Now they both laughed at Kevin’s expense. It felt so good to have Howie there, and as they talked about the others, Nick found himself missing them too, especially Brian and Kevin, who he’d not seen in at least two months. They had all promised not to let too much time go by without getting together, but with five men living different lives with different, busy schedules in different parts of the country, that was sometimes easier said than done.

“So, what’s been up with you, dude?” Nick asked next, and the conversation turned to all the recent happenings in Howie’s life, from what he was doing with the Dorough Lupus Foundation, to the women he’d been dating, and everything in between.

“Speaking of women,” Howie said finally, “Claire won’t be back up here anytime soon, will she?”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” replied Nick. “She was here this morning, but I think she was headed back to her place to finish tying up all the loose ends there.”

“Good,” Howie said and winked. Smiling, Nick pulled himself up even straighter and twisted to the side a little to face Howie. They still had lots to talk about.

***

Chapter 29

Claire awoke the next morning with butterflies in her stomach and couldn’t tell if they were from nerves or excitement. Probably a little of both. She couldn’t wait until she was moved in and Nick was home to share the house with her, but she had to admit, a part of her had her doubts. What if it didn’t work out? What if they tried their new living situation for a week and discovered that they drove each other crazy, that they couldn’t stand actually living together? It was a depressing thought, but she had to look at it realistically – she knew it was not going to be like some endless honeymoon. Whether she was living on her own or in Nick’s luxurious home, they were both still a part of the real world.

“Stop being so cynical,” she scolded herself as she sat up in bed, running a hand through her tangled hair and suddenly wishing for some of the innocence and naivety she’d possessed as a teenager, before the realities of the world had jaded her. She couldn’t go into this situation with doubts in her mind; she had to believe it was going to work, or it wouldn’t. And there was really no reason why it shouldn’t. She loved Nick, he loved her, and on top of that, they were best friends. Friends who had fun together, who understood each other, and who were in love with one another.

As Nick himself had said, living together should be a piece of cake.

Smiling assuredly to herself, Claire climbed out of bed. A long day of moving loomed ahead of her, and the sight of all the cardboard boxes stacked on the floor of her bare apartment was overwhelming. Stepping around them, she found the clothes she’d laid out for herself the night before – the only clothes that she hadn’t crammed into a suitcase or box – and dressed quickly, hoping the tank top and cotton workout shorts would keep her reasonably cool. How dumb was she, deciding to move during a Florida summer?

Thank God for air conditioning and Nick’s pool, she thought, pulling a pair of white ankle socks over her feet and padding into her bathroom. The tiny room had been stripped of all her belongings, except for the bare necessities for getting ready that morning – hairbrush and hairtie, toothbrush and toothpaste, and a half-empty bottle of face wash. She used them all, then scooped them up and carried them out to deposit in one of the boxes that was not yet full. Re-closing the cardboard flaps, she looked around. “That’s it,” she murmured out loud, her eyes searching every nook and cranny of her small apartment, which suddenly seemed so much bigger now that it was empty.

Now all she had to do was wait for her dad and Kyle, who were both due to arrive anytime. They would load all of her belongings in the rented moving van, Kyle’s truck, and her car, and drive to Nick’s, where Howie was supposed to meet them. Howie was the only one with a key to Nick’s house; in the chaos of Nick’s unexpected hospital stay, he had not had the chance to give her one, and of course she hadn’t kept the one he’d offered her when he had first asked her to move in with him.

A sudden loud knock on her door startled her, but she quickly broke into a smile, recognizing the booming knock as her father’s. Right on time, she thought and hurried to open the door.

***

“So this is the place, huh?”

Claire looked over at her father, who had just climbed out of the big moving van and come up to stand beside her, his eyes roaming over the large house that stretched across merely a portion of Nick’s vast expanse of property. “Yep,” she answered, her own eyes traveling up to the house. Nick’s house, and a place she could now call home as well.

“It’s nice,” Kris Ryan commented, nodding in approval, although Claire got the impression it made him slightly uncomfortable. She understood. Her family had always been upper-middle class, well off enough to live comfortably and splurge every now and then, but not “rich.” Nick was rich, and it had taken her awhile to adjust to that and realize that despite his money and fame, he was really just a normal guy. She hoped the rest of her family had seen that about him too, but she knew it might take some getting used to. Her father in particular was not crazy about the idea of her getting this serious with a celebrity, but she knew that had nothing to do with Nick himself. He was just doing what he’d always done best – trying to protect her, even now that she was an adult and had been on her own for years. She couldn’t be too hard on him for that.

Kyle came trundling up the long driveway in his pick-up truck as they stood looking at the house, and at the same time, another car door opened and closed, and a familiar voice called, “Good morning!”

Claire grinned at Howie; she hadn’t even noticed him waiting in his car for them at the other side of the driveway. He waved and immediately trotted over to meet them. “Hey you,” she said when he got there, reaching out to give him a big hug. “Good to see you.”

“You too, Claire,” Howie replied, offering her one of his friendly smiles. “You look great.”

“Thanks, you do too! I want you to meet my dad, Kris Ryan. And my brother, Kyle,” she added, as Kyle walked up to join them. “Guys, this is Howie Dorough.”

The three men shook hands, and then Claire said, “Well… should we get started? I’m anxious to get all this crap moved in and start figuring out where to put it all.”

Howie chuckled and started to nod, then stopped. “Oh, wait!” he said, his eyes lighting up momentarily. “I’ve got something for you in my car, Claire. Hang on while I get it.” He jogged back to his car and returned a few seconds later with a large envelope, which he handed to her without a word. Curious, she opened it.

Inside was a single sheet of plain white paper, folded carefully into thirds. She unfolded it, expecting a letter, and instead found a picture. A drawing, more precisely, done simply in pencil and carefully filled in and shaded with colored pencils. It was cartoony and comic book-ish, but she quickly realized the two smiling people in the picture were meant to be her and Nick. The man was tall and flaxen-haired, with vivid blue eyes, extra-chiseled features, and (Claire couldn’t help but smile) a body that was ripped with muscles, as shown by the plain white wifebeater and black shorts he was drawn in. Yet, despite the obvious exaggerations, she noticed that his left leg was metallic, drawn in a way that made it look cool, giving him a Terminator/I, Robot sort of look.

And in the illustrated Nick’s muscular arms, being held baby-style, was the illustrated version of her. Her eyes poured over it in wonder, entranced with the beauty with which she’d been drawn. Her red hair was long and flowing (ha, she only wished it had that much body) and her blue eyes bright and sparkling. Her body looked like a Barbie doll’s, with a tiny waist and huge boobs (those things had to be at least double D’s – ha, as if!), right down to the pointed toes that extended from shapely, dangling legs, and she was dressed in a top that showed off lots of cleavage and midriff and what appeared to be a miniskirt. But even with the exaggerations and flat-out falsities, Claire was downright flattered by the portrayal.

At the bottom of the paper, below the drawing, was a short, hand-written note.

Claire,

It’s killing me to not be with you today, but you know I’d be there to carry you across the threshold if I could. Haha, could you picture that? Well, just look above, and now you can! J I just want you to know that I love you, and it’s knowing that when I come home, I’ll be coming home to you that’s keeping me from going crazy here. This house is yours too now, and I want you to make yourself at home – make it feel like your own. Here is the key you wouldn’t keep the first time I tried to give it to you – but you better keep it this time, woman! Good luck with the move, and hopefully I’ll see you later today.

Love ya,
Nick

Reading the note over again, her eyes shooting back up to the drawing between sentences, Claire found herself overcome with sudden emotion. A cartoon and a note – such a simple gesture, but she could think of nothing sweeter. It was homemade and personal, and at that moment, she could think of no other gift from a man that had touched her so much.

“What is it?” Kyle asked finally, and she looked up to find him, her father, and Howie all staring at her.

She smiled and just shook her head, then reached back into the envelope and pulled out something she had not noticed earlier – a small, silver key, identical to the one Nick had given her weeks ago at Leonardi’s. “Here’s a key to the house,” she said, her voice surprisingly hoarse. She swallowed hard before adding, “Let’s go inside; I can show you guys around a little bit before we start bringing stuff in.”

She led the way up to Nick’s doorstep and stuck the key into the lock on the front door. She heard a soft click as the door unlocked and turned the knob to let herself in. It felt strange to open the door and not see Nick standing there, or at least hear his voice calling to her as she walked in. It felt even stranger to realize that this would soon become habit, that in letting herself into his house, she’d be coming home.

“Home sweet home, huh?” said Howie, smiling at her.

“It will be,” she replied, smiling back. “It feels like it’s missing something right now though.”

“Yeah? Would that something be about 6’2” and blonde?”

“That would be it,” Claire said wryly. Howie winked.

Leaving the foyer, they both led her father and brother through the rest of the house. It felt weird to be giving them a guided tour when Nick was not even there, but Nick had made it clear that she was to start thinking of this house as her home too, so she tried to get used to it. They kept the tour brief, merely popping their heads into various rooms in the house, and then went back outside, where all of Claire’s possessions were waiting to be brought in.

“Well,” said her father, resting a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, “You ready to start hauling stuff in?”

“Yes,” replied Claire eagerly. “The sooner we can get all of this inside, the better.”

With that, the four of them set to work.

***

The work went as smoothly as Claire could have hoped for, and by noon, everything had been brought into the house. Claire had directed the men on where to put the heavy things, and they all had sorted through her labeled boxes, taking each box to the room in which Claire thought its contents should belong. She had already decided she would leave most of her stuff, everything but the necessities, boxed up until Nick got home – that way, they could go through everything together and decide where it all should go.

With the move itself out of the way, they ordered take-out for lunch and sent Kyle to pick it up. When he returned, they spread the food out across the island in Nick’s kitchen and perched on tall stools around it to eat. Conversation flowed easily throughout lunch. Although Howie didn’t have much in common with Kris and Kyle, the three of them got along well. Claire was not surprised; Howie, she had decided, was the kind of person you just couldn’t help but like, and of course she thought the same of her father and brother.

Kris and Kyle left an hour later, after making sure Claire didn’t need them for anything else. She assured them she was plenty capable of unpacking everything herself and sent them on their way, which left just her and Howie at the house. They stood together on the porch, watching as her father drove the moving van up the driveway after Kyle’s truck, and once both vehicles had disappeared from view, they turned to each other.

“So…” Howie started, offering a casual shrug. “What’s on your agenda for the rest of the day? Are you going to start with the unpacking yet, or go see Nick, or what?”

“Unpacking, no, probably not. I’ll just unpack what I need for now and save the rest for when Nick’s home – hopefully tomorrow,” Claire answered. “And speaking of Blondie, yeah, I’m definitely gonna go to the hospital at some point. How about you? Got any plans for the rest of the day?”

“I’ve got some stuff to do later this evening… just, uh, dinner… with a friend, and stuff like that. But I thought maybe I’d head up to the hospital to see Nicky beforehand.”

Claire nodded. “We could go visit him together, if you want. Or if you’d rather be alone-“

“No, uh… that would be good,” Howie said, then paused and added after a few beats, “or maybe it’d work out better if you went up around dinnertime. Then he wouldn’t get stuck eating alone.”

“Good point,” Claire nodded. “I guess I’ll hang around here for the afternoon then and go see Nick tonight. Hm, maybe I could try to bake something for him… you know, cookies or something like that. To make up for the crappy hospital food.”

Howie smiled. “That’s a good idea; he’d love that. Plus, then you could get used to his kitchen.”

She snorted, “Not like I’ll be in it much… I’m not much of a cook.” She offered a shrug and a sheepish grin to go along with it. “Maybe I should work on that though… do you think he’ll expect me to be June Cleaver and cook and clean for him now that he’s sharing his house with me?” She snickered at the mere idea of it. Her – June Cleaver? Ha.

Howie chuckled too. “I dunno about that, but it wouldn’t hurt to learn how to cook something. What will you two do, live off of TV dinners and Kraft macaroni and cheese?”

“Pretty much,” she smiled. “Anything frozen and microwaveable is right up my speed.” Howie simply shook his head at her, grinning in amusement. “What?” she challenged, “Don’t even tell me you’re some master chef.”

“Hey, I know my way around a kitchen,” Howie defended himself. “I’m a lot better than Nick anyway – that kid would starve without fast food and frozen dinners.”

“But not you, huh?” Claire asked, a faint smile playing on her lips as she watched with intrigue as he shook his head. A man… a celebrity, in fact… who knew how to cook. Imagine that. Maybe she was a fool to be moving in with Nick – Howie was the one she should be living with. She chuckled to herself, then said, “Well, maybe you could give me a few pointers.”

“Hey, anytime,” he offered with a friendly smile. “In fact, if you want any help baking today, I’d be glad to stick around. I really do know my way around Nicky’s kitchen, after living here for nine months.”

“That could be fun… if you don’t mind,” she said cautiously, not wanting to keep him from anything. “The kitchen here is freaking huge compared to the one in my apartment, if you could even call that a kitchen. It’s no wonder I rarely cooked.”

Howie laughed and said, “Well, come on, let’s go play chef, and you’ll know where everything is in no time.”

They went into the house, and Howie led the way back to Nick’s spacious, modern kitchen. “So, what do you wanna bake?” he asked.

“Cookies would be good,” she said. Those always seemed simple enough, although hers usually came out slightly burnt on the bottom. She blamed her oven, but that excuse would probably not fly here – Nick’s oven had to be state of the art.

“Okay,” Howie nodded. “What kind?”

She liked sugar cookies, but knew that those took a long time – they had to be chilled before they could be baked. Precisely the reason she rarely made them herself. “Well, you’re the head cook here… what do you think?”

“Hm… what about oatmeal raisin?”

Claire couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose. “Oatmeal raisin? I was thinking something a little more… chocolaty.”

Howie chuckled. “Nick would probably say the same thing himself, but I was just thinking that since he’s in the hospital and all, maybe we should go for something healthier.”

She smiled. “This from the guy who was trying to get him to eat McDonald’s two days after surgery.” She remembered that day quite vividly – it was the first time she’d met Howie, AJ, and Kevin, although that was not why she remembered it.

“Hey, that was AJ’s idea, not mine,” Howie replied, holding up his hands as if to ward off any responsibility for sneaking Nick what had to be just about the worst food for him.

She laughed. “Well, at any rate, a little chocolate won’t kill him. I say we go for chocolate chip or something like that. Not too rich, but… better than oatmeal raisin.” She grinned, her tongue poking between her teeth.

“Hey,” said Howie, “I happen to like oatmeal raisin. But okay, we’ll go chocolate chip.”

With that decision finally made, they set to work, searching the large kitchen for ingredients, which they lined up on one of the counters. Following the Tollhouse recipe off the back of a bag of chocolate chips, they mixed up the dough and glopped it onto a cookie sheet in small mounds. The cookies-to-be didn’t look much different than they did when Claire made them herself, but when Howie took them out of the oven later, she saw that they were soft and thick and browned to perfection, unlike the thin and crispy, stick-to-the-sheet, burnt ones she usually ended up with. Maybe it was the oven after all. (Or Howie’s careful supervision.)

After putting another pan into the oven to bake, they lined up the fresh cookies on a sheet of wax paper to cool. While the second pan baked, they grabbed sodas from the fridge and sat down at the kitchen table to visit as they waited. When the cookies were done, Howie took them out of the oven and shut it off. Turning to Claire, he said, “Well, now that that’s done… mind if I head up to the hospital? Then I can keep Nick company for a couple of hours before I… before my dinner date tonight.”

“Ooh, a date, is it?” Claire teased. “Thought you said it was just a friend.”

Howie just shrugged and chuckled nervously, avoiding her eyes. He never did give her an answer, but she let it go. She’d save the teasing for Nick.

***

Nick was half-watching an episode of “While You Were Out” on The Learning Channel when he heard Claire’s now-familiar knock at the door of his hospital room. The door opened a crack, and a lock of her red hair fell into the room before her face appeared.

“Come on in,” he called, glad to see her. Howie had been there earlier in the afternoon, so he hadn’t been totally bored, but he had been hoping Claire could come to visit at some point too, once she was done moving in. He had heard from Howie that the move had gone fine, but he was anxious to hear how she was settling into his house.

Claire walked in with a Tupperware under her arm, and he looked at it with curiosity. “Whatcha got there?” he asked.

“I’ve been busy in my new pad,” she replied, beaming, and as she bent to kiss his lips, she set the plastic container in his lap. He pried open the lid to find it filled to the brim with chocolate chip cookies, arranged in neat stacks.

Sighing blissfully as their heavenly aroma wafted to his nose, he exclaimed, “I love you! You have no idea how good these look right now.” He hadn’t felt hungry all day, but as soon as he smelled those cookies, he was suddenly ravenous.

“Oh, I think I do,” she smiled knowingly. “Try one.”

He plucked a cookie from the top – it was soft, the chocolate chips still gooey on the bottom – and lifted it to his lips. Then he stopped, holding the cookie in mid-air. “Wait,” he said, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, “did you bake these?”

“Yes, I did, and they’re excellent,” she boasted with confidence. “Go ahead, try it; I promise you won’t be poisoned.”

“Are you sure?” he asked uncertainly, making a big show of turning the cookie over, inspecting it carefully from all angles. He loved giving her a hard time about stuff like this.

“Positive,” she said, then admitted after a pause, “Howie helped, if it makes a difference.”

“It does,” he replied quickly and bit into the cookie without further hesitation, snickering with his mouth full at the feigned look of offense on her face. She was right though – the cookie was excellent, and after two days of bland hospital food, he didn’t think he’d ever tasted anything so delicious. It made him long to get out of the hospital even more, so that he could go home and eat “real food.” “Hey!” he said suddenly, that last thought reminding him of something. “Guess what?”

“Chicken butt,” she replied automatically, in typical ten-year-old kid fashion.

He stopped to roll his eyes briefly before continuing, a smile on his face, “My doc was in here earlier, and he said I can be discharged before lunch tomorrow.”

“Awesome! Well, you let me know the time for sure, and I’ll be here to pick you up and bring you home.” She paused, a mischievous smile coming onto her face, and then added, “And then I can carry you across the threshold.”

He burst out laughing at the mental image of her trying to pick him up, and then he remembered his drawing, the one he’d given to Howie to pass onto her that morning. “So you got my drawing and note, I assume?” he asked.

“Yes! I loved it!” she gushed sincerely. “The picture was priceless, and your note… you are such a sweetheart!” She leaned forward and planted another kiss on him, leaving a smile where her lips had been.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he said, feeling himself blush slightly. He was so not good at the romantic stuff, but he’d wanted a semi-creative way to at least let her know he was thinking about her that morning. He’d started doodling the day before to kill time and ended up with the drawing he’d had Howie give her – a sort of comic-ized version of the two of them together. The note had actually been harder because he always had a difficult time putting his thoughts and feelings into words on paper like that. But he’d tried to write from the heart, and apparently it had worked. He was relieved.

“I loved it,” she said again, smiling. “I’m gonna miss you tonight, you know that? It’ll be weird sleeping at your house without you there. Speaking of which… where am I supposed to sleep? Your room downstairs, or are we still going to move into the master bedroom upstairs, or not until you’re-“

“Master bedroom,” he answered her quickly. “I figure I can handle the stairs on crutches for a few days till I can wear my leg again. It’ll be worth it to be back in my old room upstairs; it’s better than the one downstairs. So you sleep there tonight, and when I get home, we can get my crap moved back up there too.”

“Okay,” Claire said with a nod.

As their conversation came to a pause, Nick helped himself to another cookie, and another after that. By the time the orderly brought his dinner tray, he was too full to even bother with attempting to eat the dinner, so he simply shifted the food around a little to look like he’d at least touched it and then pushed the tray aside.

Claire stayed for a few hours and left just as it was starting to get dark. “I’m tired,” she confessed.

“I’ll bet,” he nodded understandingly. “Go home and relax; go to bed early. You deserve it.”

She smiled and nodded. “I probably will.” Standing up, she bent over to kiss him and whispered, “’Night, Nick. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” he replied. “Goodnight.”

She slung her purse over her shoulder and walked out of the room, stopping in the doorway to wave and blow him a kiss.

As soon as she was gone, he picked up the phone.

***

Chapter 30

AN: This one’s for you, Mary – I tried! ;)

It was not late when Claire got back to Nick’s house – home, she told herself, it’s not just ‘Nick’s house’ anymore – but she could feel the exhaustion creeping up on her and decided to follow Nick’s advice and turn in early. She walked around the house, checking to make sure all the windows and doors were locked, and then turned on the security system the way Howie had showed her earlier.

When she was sure the large house was secure, she went into Nick’s bedroom downstairs and found the box that contained her toothbrush, toothpaste, and face wash, among other things, and picked it up. She was just about to leave the room when she remembered pajamas. Not sure which box she’d put those in, she put down the box in her arms and walked over to Nick’s dresser, rummaging through it until she found one of his t-shirt drawers. She picked a rumpled shirt off the top of the pile and brought it to her nose. She smiled - it smelled like him, a familiar, comforting scent. She draped it over the top of the box and carried it upstairs to the master bedroom.

She set the box down at the foot of the king-size bed, which seemed to be calling to her. It looked so inviting, with its fluffy beige down comforter and mounds of pillows piled against the colossal headboard. She’d never slept in a bed that big before and was looking forward to all the extra room she’d have to sprawl. She was just about to climb onto it and test it out when she noticed a shallow, rectangular box nestled in the folds of the comforter. Cocking her head to the side, she reached for the box and pulled it closer to her. She pulled off the lid to find a piece of paper lying on top of tissue paper. Smiling, she picked up the note, tilted it toward the light, and began to read.

Claire,

Welcome to your new palace. I hope that doesn’t sound arrogant of me, calling it a palace, but now that you’re living here, it is a palace. Because to me, you’re a queen, and you deserve to be treated like one. I’d be there to pamper you if I could, but I’m trapped in this shithole, so I’ll just have to trust you to pamper yourself. Take a nice, relaxing soak in the jacuzzi and then go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.

Sweet dreams.

I love you.

Nick

Her smile was a mile wide by the time she had reached his signature, and her heart had swelled with emotion, bringing about a tingling feeling inside her. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry - laugh because only Nick would use the word ‘shithole’ in a love letter; cry because all of a sudden, she missed him. She’d just come from seeing him, and yet… she missed him.

“I wish you were here,” she whispered regretfully, slowly setting the note down on the bed. Then she reached for the box, hoping to cheer herself up. She curiously pulled back the flaps of tissue paper and found herself looking at something lavender and satiny. She reached in and gingerly pulled the material out until she found herself holding a short, slinky chemise. She lay it out on the bed in front of her, running her fingertips over its luxurious, silky material. It was not something she would ever consider buying for herself, but she had to admit, it was beautiful - simple, with thin spaghetti straps, a plunging neckline, and no trim or accents, just plain, opaque lilac material.

On a whim, she glanced back into the box and was surprised to find another garment at the bottom, this one in black. She pulled the second piece of lingerie out and laid it beside the first. This one was more risqué, lacy and sheer in most parts. Grinning, she shook her head and looked back into the box to see if there was anything else. There was – a small note, laying flat on the very bottom of the box. It said, simply: You told me once you didn’t have any sexy lingerie. I thought it was about time I changed that.

She giggled, looking from his handwritten note to the two pieces of lingerie lying on the bed. “How did he-?“ she began to wonder aloud, but in mid-thought, it hit her. Howie. This had to be Howie’s doing. What a sweetheart. They both were.

The smile felt like it would never leave her face as she slowly folded the tissue paper back into the box and put the lid on it. Leaving the lingerie where it lay, she carried the two notes from Nick over to the nightstand on the left side of the bed – “her,” side, as it always was when she and Nick slept together, though they’d never slept in this bed before. She was surprised to find a vase sitting there, half-filled with water and holding two long-stemmed roses, one red and the other yellow. Again, she shook her head in amazement; she hadn’t even noticed it when she’d come in. She stopped to sniff the roses and then propped up the two notes against the vase, tucking the second one behind the first. As she did, her eyes roamed over his writing once again. Take a nice, relaxing soak in the jacuzzi and then go to bed, he’d instructed.

That sounds nice, she thought, tempted by both ideas. I think I will.

She wandered into the bathroom and found more surprises awaiting her there. There was another vase sitting on the bathroom counter, with an identical flower arrangement inside – a pair of roses, red and yellow. Along with the vase, there were candles on the counter, and when she glanced over at the large jacuzzi in the corner of the spacious bathroom, she saw even more candles. They were sprinkled evenly around the wide rim of the tub, ranging in size and color – all shades of purple, she realized, from the lightest of lavenders to the darkest of amethysts. They were not yet lit, but she found a lighter waiting for her on the counter. Flicking the lighter so that a flame sparked, she methodically lit the candles, until each wick held a dancing flame, and the room was filled with the sweet scent of lavender and lilac. She turned off the lights overhead and across the top of the mirror and stood in the doorway to simply gaze. She drew in a breath at the sight she was met with – a dim room, illuminated only by the soft, intimate light of candle after flickering candle. It was beautiful.

She pulled the door closed behind her and locked it, even though she knew no one else was home. Then she crossed the room and turned on the jacuzzi, filling the deep tub with hot, bubbly water. She shed her clothes and folded them neatly in a stack on the floor, a surprising deviation from the usual messy pile she left them in at her old apartment. Within a minute, she was sliding down into the hot water, expelling a gusty sigh as she landed on the seat, then inhaling deeply, breathing in the warm, flowery scents of the candles all around her. She closed her eyes, leaned her head back against the marble rim, and decided that this was surely heaven. Or close enough anyway. The only thing needed to make it perfect was Nick by her side, rubbing her neck and shoulders as she soaked, sprinkling her body with tender kisses, and making love to her upon that big, soft bed of his. But she was used to life being less than perfect, so she would have to make do without all that tonight.

After nearly an hour in the jacuzzi, she stepped out feeling totally relaxed, her aching muscles thanking her for the long soak. The warm water and scented candles had made her sleepy, and as she drained the tub and blew them all out, one by one, she thought about how wonderful it was going to feel to slip into Nick’s bed, lay her head down on something soft, and close her eyes. Sleep would carry her away instantly, she felt sure.

Wrapping a towel around her body, Claire left the now-hazy bathroom and walked back into the bedroom. As soon as she’d crossed the threshold separating the two rooms, her ears picked up the strains of soft music playing. Her heart skipped a beat, and she froze to listen, wondering with a slight panic who had turned on the music. The panic melted away seconds later, when she realized what she was hearing. “Unchained Melody” by the Righteous Brothers. It was one of her favorite songs.

Oh my love, my darling
I’ve hungered for your touch
A long, lonely time…

At first, she looked around the bedroom in confusion, wondering where it was coming from. She quickly traced the music to the alarm clock on Nick’s side of the bed and realized instantly that someone had planned this – put the CD into the clock’s disc player, set the alarm for it to begin playing at a certain time, when he was sure she’d be around. It had to have been Howie who’d done all the work, but she knew who had been at the heart of the plans.

And time goes by so slowly
And time can do so much
Are you still mine
I need your love
I need your love
God speed your love to me…

Letting the music play on, she sank down onto the bed to listen. It was not long before tears rose in her eyes, brought on by the familiar lyrics.

Lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the sea
To the open arms of the sea
Lonely rivers sigh wait for me, wait for me
I’ll be coming home, wait for me…

A solitary teardrop slid down one cheek, and she sniffled, feeling silly, yet unable to stop the rush of loneliness and desire that had flooded her soul. Again, she wished Nick was home, and not just for her sake, but his as well. She knew it was killing him not to be there with her, and now it was killing her too. More than anything, she wanted to snuggle into his arms and hold him as he embraced her in return. She reached for a pillow instead, hugging it to her chest as another tear fell, leaving a small wet drop on the pillow sham.

Oh my love, my darling
I’ve hungered, hungered for your touch
A long, lonely time
And time goes by so slowly
And time can do so much
Are you still mine
I need your love
I need your love
God speed your love to me

A sigh and a small giggle escaped her lips almost at the same time, and she reluctantly stood, letting the pillow fall as she rubbed her eyes. I’m just exhausted, she told herself. That’s why I’m getting so emotional. I’ll just go to bed, and when I wake up, it’ll be morning, and I can bring Nick home.

As she walked around to the foot of the bed, she realized the song had started to play again. It must have been set to repeat. She left it playing as she let her bath towel fall and reached for the lavender chemise he’d given her. She carefully pulled the lingerie over her head and smoothed down the satiny fabric before turning to step in front of the wide mirror above his large dresser. She eyed her reflection with interest, turning her body and craning her neck to view herself from all angles. The slinky lingerie actually fit her well, although it did not do much to hide parts of her body she was less than thrilled to expose – cellulite on her thighs, that mole on her back, the small scar just below her collarbone where she’d once had a central line placed for chemo. But she supposed a bathing suit showed just as much, and Nick had seen her in a lot less. Nothing to fret over.

She cleared off the bed, folding the black lingerie with care and placing it back in its box, and then went back around to the left side to turn down the sheets. She did a double-take when she pulled down the comforter to find satin sheets in a rich shade of dark purple. She burst out laughing; had Nick actually told Howie to put purple, satin sheets on his bed for her? (And how had they known purple was her favorite color?) This is definitely princess treatment, she thought with a grin. Or I guess I should say queen.

She slid effortlessly beneath the covers, her silky new nightdress slippery against the satin sheets. After adjusting the pillows to her liking, she lay her head down and closed her eyes just as she’d fantasized of doing earlier. Her tired body relaxed against the mattress, but sleep did not come as instantly as she had hoped. For one thing, she’d forgotten to turn off the music, and still it played on. Oh my love, my darling… With a moan, she rolled over, the chemise twisting around her middle, and lifted her head. The clock on the other side of the bed suddenly looked so far away. She flopped back down and closed her eyes again, trying to let the music soothe her to sleep. I’ve hungered for your touch… When that did not work, she simply tried to block it out. A long, lonely time… Finally, she hauled herself up, her body protesting the sudden movement, and crawled across the wide bed, slapping at Nick’s clock until the music finally stopped.

But even after she’d crossed back to her own side, readjusted her sleepwear, and lain back down, the song played on… in her head.

And time goes by so slowly…

She tossed and turned. Finally she rolled out of bed and stood up, sick of the twisting of the lingerie every time she moved. She stalked to the foot of the bed and pulled it off, trading it for the t-shirt of Nick’s she’d originally brought up. More comfortable now, she crawled back into bed and again tried to bring on the sleep she craved. But it did not come. Still she tossed, still she turned, and still the song lyrics flowed melodically through her mind.

I need your love…

She exhaled sharply and inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of Nick that clung to the t-shirt on her body.

I need your love…

She rolled over, stretching her legs out to the side, frowning when her toes touched nothing, not the edge of the bed, nor Nick’s leg. Just empty space.

God speed your love to me…

Finally, she sat up, expelling a huge sigh. “I can’t do this,” she murmured aloud, the sound of her own voice oddly comforting in the silence of the large, empty house. She raked a hand through her hair and shook her head. “I can’t sleep here tonight.” Why, she was not exactly sure, but she knew it had something to do with Nick. She’d slept alone for years in her own apartment, but it just felt weird to sleep all alone in a bed that was not hers, in a room that was not hers, in a house that was not hers, without the man who owned them all, the man who had done all those wonderful, sweet things for her that night, the man who belonged right there by her side.

Without giving it another thought, she got out of bed, and within minutes, was downstairs and dressed in a loose-fitting pair of cropped sweatpants and one of her own t-shirts. She fetched her car keys, grabbed her purse, and walked out to her run-down old Toyota, which looked so out of place in the driveway of Nick’s sprawling home. A minute later, she was turning onto the road, her hands gripping the wheel tightly with determination. If he could not be there where he belonged, she would go to where she belonged – by his side.

***

Visiting hours were long over when Claire arrived at the hospital, and the halls of Nick’s floor were empty and quiet. She knew many of the nurses would frown on her arriving at this hour, but she didn’t care. She had been in and out of this hospital enough to know just the right cards to play, and she also knew that Nick’s celebrity status allowed him to pull the strings she alone could not. Between the two of them, she’d get in to see him. She hadn’t driven this far that late at night to be turned away.

She walked quickly down the hallway, taking the familiar route to Nick’s room. Just when she was beginning to think she’d gotten lucky, she reached then nurse’s station and was immediately stopped by a tall, middle-aged nurse who reminded Claire of a buzzard – bony and slightly hunched, with a thick brow and slightly beaked nose.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but where do you think you’re going?” the nurse questioned, leering down at Claire from behind the counter. “Visiting hours ended at nine.”

“Oh, I’m staying overnight,” said Claire easily, acting as if she’d been there the whole time. Watching the nurse’s sharp eyes drift to her purse, she added, “Just ran downstairs for a quick snack.”

“The cafeteria’s closed at this time of night.”

“Oh… I know. I meant downstairs and across the street. I went across the street to get something to eat.” She smiled briefly - a smile of innocence, she hoped. The nurse arched an eyebrow and continued her penetrating stare. Without giving her a chance to ask anymore questions, Claire went on quickly, “Well, I’d better get back to my brother’s room. Have a good night.”

She hurried away, hoping the nurse would not know she wasn’t Nick’s sister. She wasn’t sure why she’d felt the need to lie about that; somehow, it just seemed more acceptable than saying she was his girlfriend.

A security guard sat half asleep in a chair just down the hall from Nick’s room – the hospital had been good about providing security on the off chance someone figured out Nick was there – and Claire sucked in a breath, hoping she wouldn’t be grilled even more by him. He would certainly know she hadn’t been there since visiting hours, and he could also easily kick her out.

Luckily, when he looked up, Claire recognized him as a guard who had been on duty the day before when she had been up to visit, and he appeared to recognize her as well. He offered her a tired smile and a gruff “’Evenin’.”

“Hello,” she replied sweetly and walked past. He did not stop her.

At Nick’s door, she let out a breath and raised her hand to knock softly. She waited, leaning her ear closer to the door to listen for a response.

“Come in?” she heard him say finally. He sounded confused. She smiled knowingly; the nurses usually just breezed in and out when they came by for their regular vital checks at night. He would not be expecting her. She reached for the doorknob and turned it with difficulty; her palms were still clammy from her encounter with Old Buzz.

Pushing open the door, she stepped in slowly, letting light from the hall spill into his room. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw him lying in bed, his head raised to see her. “Hey,” she said softly. “Did I wake you?”

“What are you doing here?” Nick asked, ignoring her question. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“Not at all,” she smiled, stepping into the room and closing the door quietly behind her. She blinked in the darkened room and cautiously made her way over to his bed, perching on the edge and turning to face him. “I just wanted to see you, is all,” she said, sliding her hand into his so that their fingers intertwined. “I loved what you did for me tonight. Or what you had Howie do, I should say?”

Through the darkness, she could just make out his faint smile. “D’s great to have around, ya know,” he said.

“I know,” she agreed. “He’s a good friend. And you, my dear, are just sweet.” Smiling, she leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, letting her lips linger there for a few seconds, tasting his skin, breathing in the scent of his hair, relishing in his presence there before her. “I did just what you said – lit all the candles, took a nice long bath, and went to bed. I even wore the ‘sexy lingerie’ you got me.” She grinned, and he grinned back.

“Howie picked it out,” he admitted. “But he brought it by yesterday so I could approve it.”

“Howie tested, Nick approved?” she said, ripping off the Kix cereal slogan.

Nick wrinkled his nose. “Well damn, I hope D wasn’t testing those things.”

She burst out laughing. “Okay, never mind. That didn’t come out quite like I’d intended.”

“Eh, it’s late – I’ll forgive ya.” He smiled and squeezed her hand twice. “So, if you don’t mind my asking again… what are you doing here? Didn’t you say you’d gone to bed?”

“Ah, I did... loved the sheets, by the way. Also a Howie purchase?”

“Yep. Did he get purple?”

“Uh-huh. Since when do you like purple so much?” she teased.

“Ha ha. I don’t, but I know you do – so does he, actually. And anyway, it was supposed to seem royal. You know, purple? Royal color?”

“Sure,” she said. “It was a good choice. Purple’s my favorite color.” She smiled.

“So,” he pressed, “why aren’t you sleeping like a queen in your purple sheets? Not that I don’t like you being here, but… well…”

She laughed. “I know,” she said, “why am I at this damn hospital that we both see too much of anyway and not at home in your nice bed? Well, it’s simple enough - I couldn’t sleep.”

“How come? Miss me too much?” He was only kidding, but he’d hit the nail on the head.

“Actually… kind of, yes,” she confessed with a little laugh. “Your bed’s huge… I’m not used to all that space… I need somebody to share it with me.”

“Why, so you can kick me and hog all the covers?” he teased her, but she could hear the delight in his voice just as plainly as she could see the smile on his face. He was pleased with knowing that she had missed him, that she had been unable to sleep without him there.

“Something like that,” she replied with a sheepish grin.

“Well, come here, baby,” he said, scooting over to one side of his bed and patting the narrow space beside him. “I won’t let you hog all the covers here, but I will share.”

“Can I still kick you then?” she asked. He just chuckled. Smiling contentedly, she wedged herself in beside him, snuggling up against his chest with her head on his shoulder. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable place to sleep, but she’d lain with him this way before, and it felt as if that was where she belonged. Not all alone in a big, empty bed, but side by side with him.

***

Lyrics: “Unchained Melody” by the Righteous Brothers

Chapter 31

Sometime during the night, a nurse had come in and kicked Claire out of Nick’s bed. The nurse had looked appalled; Claire had simply looked annoyed, as she groggily stumbled out of Nick’s bed and into the cot the nurse had brought in for her, muttering something about buzzards.

The next time Nick remembered waking up, it was morning, and a different nurse was standing beside his bed, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around his upper arm. “Good morning, Mr. Carter,” she said brightly.

“Morning,” he mumbled back, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. When his hand left his face, he caught sight of Claire stretched out on the cot behind the nurse. He did a double take at first, before the memory of the night before came back to him.

“I didn’t know you were having a guest stay the night,” the nurse commented, noticing where his eyes had landed, upon the sleeping Claire.

“Eh… kind of short notice,” replied Nick, smiling to himself. “She’s my ride home later today – I’m still being discharged, right?” So help him, if they tried to keep him in the hospital another day, he was going to-

“I believe so, yes,” the nurse answered with a short nod, as she jotted his blood pressure down on his chart. “Dr. Robson will have to give you the okay first, of course, but so far everything looks good.” She went on to stick a thermometer in his ear, and when it beeped, she checked the reading and nodded in confirmation. “Your temp’s down to normal.”

“That’s good,” murmured Nick. “When will the doc come by?”

“Probably later this morning, depending on his schedule. I’ll save your bandage change for later, after he’s had a chance to check on the ulcer.” Nick nodded; that was just as well with him. He hated having people poking at his stump all the time. It was still swollen and sore, and the pain didn’t seem to be going away with the infection, much to his annoyance. He was sick of lying around in bed, and he hated having to rely on crutches to get anywhere. Maybe he’d just get a wheelchair and make Claire push him around all day. Oh, she’d love that. He smirked to himself at the thought.

Claire woke just as the nurse was leaving. Moaning throatily, she inhaled deeply into her pillow before lifting her head, her tousled hair falling into her eyes.

“Morning,” Nick called to her, as she clumsily pushed her hair out of her face and blinked over at him, bleary-eyed.

“Morning,” she echoed through a yawn. “Where-? Oh.” She looked around briefly and then rolled over, the cot quivering beneath her as she jerkily shifted her weight. “Remind me again why I chose to sleep on a dinky little cot in a hospital room instead of in a king size bed with satin sheets in a mansion?” she said, sitting up and rubbing the small of her back.

“Cause you missed me,” Nick replied with a cheeky grin.

“Ugh… what was I thinking?” Swinging her legs over the side of the cot and stretching her arms above her head, she shot a smirk in his direction. Then she stood up and moved over to the chair that sat beside his bed. Slumping down into it, she asked, “So… what time is it?”

Nick looked up at the small clock on one of the walls. “Seven-thirty.”

“Have you had breakfast yet?”

“No,” he said. “A nurse just left a menu though.” He picked up the slip of paper the nurse had left on his bed tray and waved it at her.

“Oh fun… what’s on the menu for today?” They both read over the items listed on the menu card. It contained many of the standard breakfast dishes, but Nick had learned to avoid those and go for the cereal. He circled Rice Krispies, wishing they had Lucky Charms or Cocoa Pebbles instead, and set the menu back down on his tray.

When his breakfast was brought later, he dumped a carton of milk into the bowl of Rice Krispies and listened to them “snap, crackle, pop” while Claire picked apart the muffin she’d bought in the cafeteria downstairs.

After breakfast, it was just a matter of waiting. Nick grew impatient, wishing his doctor would hurry up and get there to discharge him.

Finally, around ten-thirty, Dr. Robson showed up. Nick held his breath as the doctor carefully peeled back the gauze bandages covering the end of his stump. The ulcer there was in no way healed yet, but it did look better than the last time Nick had looked at it. Some of the redness had gone away, and the swelling had definitely gone down. He looked up at the doctor hopefully, waiting for his professional opinion.

“This looks good,” Dr. Robson nodded, causing Nick to wince as he poked at the skin around the open wound. “How does it feel? Are you still in a lot of pain?”

“Eh… it’s still pretty sore,” Nick replied honestly, swallowing.

“When you go home, you can take ibuprofen for that… Advil, Motrin, something like that. If that doesn’t do the trick, call me, and I can prescribe something stronger.”

Nick nodded, perking up at the word ‘home.’ “So…” he started cautiously, “can I go home today then?”

“I see no reason to keep you here any longer. I’ll write you a scrip for more antibiotics that you can take orally. If you take the pills as prescribed for a course of ten days, you should be fine. I’d like to see you in here for a follow-up after that to make sure the infection is gone and the ulcer is healing as it should, and if you have any problems, you should come in sooner than that.”

Nick nodded diligently and paid attention as the doctor gave him instructions for dressing the sore and wrote his prescription. Then, standing up, Dr. Robson said, “Well, I’ll have a nurse come in to take out your IV and bring discharge papers for you to sign. Be sure to stop by the admit desk on your way out to schedule a follow-up appointment for sometime in the next week or two.” With that, the doctor leaned forward to shake Nick’s hand and wish him well, and that was that.

As soon as he was gone, Claire let out a huge sigh. “Thank goodness,” she said with relief. “I’m so glad you don’t have to spend another night here.”

“Me too,” Nick said emphatically. “Now you can take me home and treat me like a king.”

She smirked. “Normally I’d say ‘fat chance’ to that, but I guess you do deserve it. Your wish is my command, your majesty.”

Nick chuckled, rather enjoying those words, even with the sarcastic tone. “I think I could get used to that.”

“Eh, don’t get too used to it,” said Claire, playfully nudging his shoulder. “As soon as you’re back on your feet, no more royal treatment.”

Nick pretended to look wounded, but as much as he liked the sound of “royal treatment,” he hoped it would end sooner, rather than later. This helpless feeling was getting old fast.

***

At home, Claire set up a makeshift bed on the couch for Nick. Then she drove to a nearby deli to pick up bread, lunch meat, and cheese for sandwiches. She and Nick ate lunch, and once the kitchen had been cleaned up, she turned to him and asked, “Feel like giving me a hand?”

“Uhh...” Nick hesitated, wondering how much help he’d be, when he could barely get around.

“You might not have seen yet,” Claire explained, “but I have boxes of my crap piled everywhere. I just need help figuring out where it’s all going to go… I didn’t want to start junking up your place yesterday, when you weren’t around.”

“Oh,” said Nick, nodding. “Yeah, ‘course I’ll help. Where do you wanna start?”

“Hm… how about your office? I know I stuck a lot of stuff in there.”

“Okay,” Nick agreed and boosted himself out of his seat. He reached for his crutches, which were propped up against the kitchen table, and adjusted them under his arms for the short walk to his office. The room, which held his desk and computer, as well as various files and records, his small book collection, his larger comic collection, and his drawing supplies, looked more crowded than he’d ever seen it, with Claire’s neatly-labeled boxes piled in the center.

“You take a seat and just relax,” Claire said, holding Nick’s large, padded leather office chair steady while he sank down onto it. “I’ll go through all this stuff and put it where you tell me to.”

“Put it wherever you want,” Nick told her, flicking his wrist with a casual air. “Like I said, this is your house too now. You don’t need to ask me about everything.”

“Okay,” replied Claire with a shrug. “Well, you can just keep me company then, as long as you’re up to sitting there.”

“I’m fine,” Nick said quickly. Damn stump hurts just as much when I’m lying down as it does when I’m sitting, he added mentally, but he chose not to say that part aloud.

Claire poked through her boxes, checking the labels on each before she selected one to open. “Books,” she said, pulling out several paperbacks. She turned to eye the tall bookshelves that lined his office; there was plenty of space left. “Any preference where they go?” she asked.

“Wherever,” he shrugged. “Like I said…”

“I know, I know,” she nodded. “Just checking.” She went over to the set of shelves that held his own books and rearranged them a little until she had cleared two shelves below his collection. Then she carried her books over in armloads and systematically lined them up on the shelves. She had more than he did, he noticed, as he realized she was shelving them two deep in some areas. He’d never been big on reading for pleasure, but apparently she was; most of her books looked like fictions. He was sitting too far away to be able to read their titles, but he found himself wondering what kind of books she liked. It was funny, the little things they still did not know about each other.

Out of another box, she pulled still more books, although these were different. “Yearbooks?” Nick asked, catching a glimpse of one.

“Yep,” said Claire, holding up a stack of six of them. “Seventh grade through my senior year of high school.”

“Can I see one?” Nick asked with mild interest. He’d looked through one of Brian’s old high school yearbooks once, years ago, when he should have been in high school himself. He hadn’t known any of the students pictured in it, except Brian, of course, but he’d been rather fascinated by it just the same, wondering how his life would have been different if he had gone to high school, rather than been tutored in a hotel room on the road, as he was through most of his teenage years.

“Sure,” said Claire, handing him one from the bottom of the stack. “This is my senior yearbook.”

He took the large volume and opened it up, briefly scanning each page as he leafed through them all. He found the section with the individual photographs of the whole senior class. Class of 1998, it said across the top. That would have been his class, he realized, had he gone on to high school and graduated with his class. His eyes sorted through the pictures, picking out the faces he recognized – Claire… Dianna… Jamie. They all had a list of activities they’d been in during their four years of school, along with a quote. Many of them were the typical inspirational kind about life, and a few were movie quotes or song lyrics. He didn’t bother to read most of them, but he did look at the one below Claire’s name.

“Maybe in order to understand mankind, we have to look at that word itself. MANKIND. Basically, it’s made up of two separate words – ‘mank’ and ‘ind’. What do these words mean? It’s a mystery, and that’s why so is mankind.”
- Jack Handey

Nick snorted as he finished reading the quote and looked up at Claire in amazement. “They let you use a Deep Thought for your yearbook quote?” he asked incredulously, remembering the series of Jack Handey’s “Deep Thoughts” from reruns of Saturday Night Live.

She giggled. “Yeah, we could use anything, as long as it wasn’t vulgar.” She shrugged and added, “I thought it was funny, but my parents were slightly annoyed when they saw it. They wanted me to put something deep and meaningful.”

“Like everyone else?”

“Basically.” She rolled her eyes. “What’s the fun in that?”

“Exactly,” he laughed. Eighteen-year-old Claire had apparently been no different from the Claire he knew now. He wished he’d known her back then, although at the time, he’d been so caught up in his relationship with Mandy that he probably wouldn’t have given Claire the time of day, had he met her then. She’d come into his life at a perfect time, five years later. A horrible, perfect time.

Nick continued to flip through the yearbook, as Claire filled his bookcases with her things. When he had finished with the yearbook, she was just tearing open another box. “What’s that?” he asked, watching as she lifted out two smaller boxes, one bright yellow, the other bright pink.

“Scrapbook stuff,” she replied, taking the lid off one of the boxes and tilting it in his direction. Inside, he could see a variety of supplies – scissors, glue sticks, a paper cutter, and other tools he did not even recognize, along with brightly colored pens and markers, stickers, and stencils.

“Ah,” he said, nodding. “My drawing stuff is over there, on the bottom shelf,” he said, pointing at one of the bookcases. “Maybe you can put your stuff down there, with mine.”

“Good plan,” she agreed, carrying the boxes over and wedging them next to his large box of art supplies.

“I haven’t seen your scrapbook,” he commented, as she went back to unpacking.

“This is it,” she said, pulling out a huge album. “You wanna look at it now?”

“Sure,” he replied, curious. He’d heard her mention her scrapbook before, but he’d never actually seen it. He took the large album from her and immediately almost dropped it, surprised by how much it weighed. He set it down in his lap and winced at the pressure it put on his wounded limb. Quickly snatching the book up again, he swiveled around in his chair and placed the album on the desk in front of them. He opened its plum-colored cover and was immediately greeted with a picture of Claire on the first page. His breath caught in his throat as he gazed down at the photograph. It was a beautiful picture, an extreme close-up of her face, developed in black and white. Its simplicity was what made it so gorgeous, and he tore his eyes away just long enough to turn and ask, “Who took this?”

Claire looked up from her unpacking and came over to the desk, smiling sheepishly when she saw the photo he was pointing to. “A friend from college, Jenn. She was an art major with a focus on photography. She took this the summer after our sophomore year… I’d been on chemo for a few months, and all my hair had fallen out.”

At her words, Nick looked back at the picture. He could just see the line of one of her bandanas cutting across her forehead, and below that, he realized her eyebrows were gone, as well as her lashes. Her face looked thinner than it was normally, making her cheekbones more prominent.

“You look beautiful here,” he said softly, sincerely. “I mean it.”

“Thanks,” she said with a little laugh, and he glanced back to find her blushing slightly. “Jenn thought I’d look like Sinead O’Connor… like in that one video of hers, where it’s just a close-up of her face as she’s singing.” Nick nodded, knowing which one she was talking about. “Yeah, but Jenn was the one who looked more like Sinead. There’s a picture of her like this somewhere more towards the back… she shaved her own head when my hair fell out.”

“Really?” Nick asked in surprise. “AJ did the same thing, for me. That’s a good friend.”

Claire nodded. “She was. I mean, she is. I just don’t see her much anymore… she lives in France now, right outside Paris.”

“Oh, France, that’s cool,” said Nick.

“Definitely,” Claire agreed. “I’d love to go over there sometime.”

“You ever been overseas?”

“Just once. I went on a school-sponsored trip to the UK during spring break of my senior year of high school… toured England, Scotland, and Ireland. It was beautiful.”

Nick nodded. “The UK’s nice. We should go to Europe sometime. I’ve been there lots of times on tour, but usually we’re so busy that we don’t get a lot of time to see the sights, so it’d be nice to go on a little vacation over there, travel at our own pace, do our own thing.”

“That would be really cool,” Claire smiled, and as she went back to her unpacking, Nick made a mental note to himself to keep such a vacation in mind.

He turned the page of the scrapbook and found a page with a light yellow background that was filled with baby pictures of her. By herself in her bassinet; in the arms of her mother and father, grandparents, even a little boy version of Kyle; on her stomach on a blanket on the floor, her head raised to the camera. Smiling, he turned the page and found toddler pictures. With fiery red hair and a mischievous grin, she looked like quite the little terror, he thought.

The Claire in the pictures grew as he turned the pages, and soon he was finding pages devoted to kindergarten graduation, first Communion, and children’s birthday parties. Elementary school friends soon turned to junior high ones, and he smiled at pictures of her from those early adolescent years – braces on her teeth, freckles on her cheeks, long hair that was crimped and frizzy. She’d been a pom-pom girl in junior high, he discovered, looking at a picture of her with the squad and another of her at a basketball game, arm-in-arm with a thirteen-year-old Dianna, who had apparently been a cheerleader. There were lots more pictures of her and Dianna, with numerous other friends he did not recognize, in the next few pages, her high school years. He frowned at the many pictures that included Jamie, especially the ones labeled “Prom ’98,” where they looked especially close, he in a tuxedo, she in a long, pale blue gown.

College came next, and after that, he turned to a page with a cheerful blue and yellow striped background and several pictures of Claire with a little boy. He knew exactly when and where these pictures had to have been taken, for Claire was gaunt and hairless again, her head adorned by a bright yellow bandana with a smiley face on it, and the bed she was perched on was unquestionably a hospital bed, in what was unmistakably a hospital room. She wasn’t wearing a hospital gown, just regular clothes, but the little boy sitting up in the bed beside her was.

“Hey, Claire,” he spoke up, “who is this?” He pointed out the little boy when Claire came over to look.

“Oh,” said Claire, “that’s Casey. I got to know him the first time I was in the hospital, right after my diagnosis. I was taking a walk down the halls one night, and I heard him crying… his parents weren’t around, and he was scared... maybe of the dark, maybe of the hospital, maybe of everything, I don’t know. Anyway, I popped my head in his doorway just to see if he was all right, and somehow I ended up sitting with him and reading a story to him because no one else had to the time to do that. He calmed down for me and fell asleep, and when the nurses found out, they let me come back to do the same thing the next night. His mom had just had a baby, see, and his dad worked night shift a lot, so neither of them could stay overnight at the hospital with him.”

“So you kept hanging out with him at night,” Nick finished for her knowingly.

She nodded. “Yep. He was a cool little kid. Only six years old, but he’d been through a hell of a lot already. He had leukemia, like me, and knowing him kind of helped me in a way, ‘cause I told myself, if he can make it through all this stuff, then so can I.”

Nick smiled a little. “So… what happened with him?” he asked, with an air of caution. He knew all too well that the answer may not be a good one.

“Last time I heard anything from his family, he was great,” Claire replied with a smile. “He underwent a bone marrow transplant that same year – he was kind of one step ahead of me in everything – and he hasn’t had a relapse since. I haven’t seen him in awhile, but I got a Christmas card from his parents last Christmas, with a picture of him and his little sister… he looks really good. He’s eleven now.”

“That’s great,” Nick said, smiling in relief, glad to hear a happy ending to this story. His smile grew as he turned a couple more pages in her scrapbook and found pictures of himself with her. There weren’t many, for as long as they’d known each other, but that was his fault more than hers – he was still trying to get over the camera shyness that had been brought on by the changes to his appearance. Still, she had a nice bunch from the previous year’s VMA’s, which he’d brought her to, and some nice photos from their trip to Hawaii, as well as a few of them just hanging out.

“This is really nice, Claire,” Nick said, as he closed the scrapbook with a dull thud. “You must have put a lot of time into this.”

“Yeah… I can do this for a couple of hours without even realizing how much time has passed,” she said. “It’s a good hobby.” With a grin, she added, “I can show you how, if you’d like to give it a try sometime.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “No thanks,” he said with a chuckle. “If I want a scrapbook of myself, I’ll ask a fan to do it – they’re good at that kind of stuff.”

Claire laughed and then looked around the room. Except for a pile of empty boxes she’d stacked up near the door, it looked back to normal again, only even better, because now the bookshelves were filled, with her things as well as his. The way it should be, Nick thought.

“Well,” said Claire, “I think that’s it for this room. Shall we be moving on?”

“Sure,” replied Nick, using the desk to push himself up on his one good leg. He reached for his crutches again and hobbled out of the room behind her, as she led the way to the next one.

***

Chapter 32

As soon as she pushed the door open, Claire was blasted with heat. “Ugh,” she groaned, shielding her eyes against the blinding afternoon sunlight as she strode quickly across the parking lot. Even in tennis shoes, she could feel the heat rising from the pavement beneath her feet, and the humid air was practically suffocating. “Nothing like a June day in Florida,” she muttered to herself as she climbed into her car, leaving the door open while she quickly stuck the key into the ignition and turned the air conditioning on full-blast. She shifted uncomfortably on the hot seat as she waited for the car to cool down. At least the a/c in this old junker still works, she thought with relief, holding her hand over one of the vents to feel the refreshing rush of cool air.

When the interior of the car was tolerable, she shut her door and buckled her seatbelt, shifting the car into gear. She cranked up the radio before backing out of her parking space, trying to brighten her mood. It’s Friday, she told herself, tapping her fingers against the wheel in time to the music blaring from her speakers. Be happy.

Easier said than done. As she turned the car in the direction of home – Nick’s home, that was – she was anything but happy. It had been one of those days at work: difficult children who refused to open their mouths; patients who appeared to have not brushed their teeth in years, let alone flossed; not to mention Tim and Laureen’s constant flirting all day long – in the break room, up and down the hall, at the clock behind the front desk. It had only taken a week after she had speculated about them hooking up for the inevitable to happen. Laureen had pulled her aside Thursday afternoon on her way out and, beaming, told her the “good” news – Tim had asked her out on a date for the following night. Big surprise. Claire had wished her well, and apparently, things had gone well, for now, two weeks later, they were still at it – the flirting, the shared smiles, suave lines from Tim, and giggling from Laureen. As likeable as Laureen was – and Tim was not a bad guy either – Claire found the whole thing slightly nauseating. I hope we didn’t act that way, she found herself thinking every time she saw Tim, trying to remember if she’d gone through that giddy phase at the beginning of their short relationship.

Needless to say, when two o’clock finally rolled around, Claire was ready to get away from the office. If only she felt like going home…

As much as she hated to admit it to herself, there had been many days in the past two weeks when she had not wanted to go home. The first few days after she’d moved in with Nick, she had raced back to his house after work, looking forward to a relaxing evening at home with him. What she had not been looking forward to, nor expecting, was spending night after night with a pouty, pitiful version of her boyfriend.

Nick, to say the least, had had a rough three weeks.

Sunday, the day she’d brought him home from the hospital, had been fine. He’d pleasantly helped her unpack the rest of her boxes and get things put away, and they’d both had a nice visit with Howie, who had stopped by on his way back to Orlando that afternoon. That night, he’d braved the staircase on his crutches, and they slept upstairs in his king size bed, purple sheets and all.

Sunday, it seemed, had been the calm before the storm.

She’d come home from work Monday afternoon to find him in a downright foul mood. “What’s wrong?” she’d asked cautiously, when she’d found him sitting on the floor of is den, directly in front of his big screen TV, playing Playstation. He hadn’t even looked at her when she’d walked in, let alone say hello. “Nick?”

“Shitty day,” he’d mumbled finally, without tearing his eyes away from the TV.

“Why shitty? What happened?”

Neither “a lot,” nor “nothing” would have sufficed as an answer, for, as she found out, it had been a combination of both. He’d about killed himself that morning, slipping and almost falling in the shower upstairs, which did not have handles on the wall like the ones that had been installed in the shower downstairs. According to him, that had been the most interesting part of his day. He went on to complain – about going up and down the stairs on crutches, about how there was no food in the house, about how there was nothing to do and how he’d been bored all day.

The rest of her afternoon and evening were hectic – she’d gotten groceries, changed the sheets on the bed downstairs so that they could sleep there as long as he was still on crutches, and called about having a safety handle put in the shower upstairs. By the time all that was done, she was exhausted. So much for a relaxing evening.

The rest of the week – and the two weeks after that – had not been much better. Nick was frustrated and angry and taking it out on her, as she was the only one around. He refused to leave the house as long as he could not wear his artificial leg, and so naturally, he was bored, and the boredom made him moody, and his moodiness made him completely unpleasant to be around. Sometimes she tried to cheer him up, and sometimes she succeeded. Other times, there was nothing she could say or do to bring him out of the storm cloud he seemed to be living in, and sometimes she didn’t even feel like trying.

That afternoon felt like it was going to be one of those times. She parked her car in the drive and hurried up the walkway to the front door, anxious to get out of the heat and into the house. The air-conditioning would make it seem welcoming, even if Nick wouldn’t. She unlocked the door and walked inside, quickly pushing it closed behind her. “I’m home!” she called automatically, as she strode through the library and stuck her head into the living room. No Nick. She wandered through the other rooms downstairs, looking for him, and finally found him slumped in his bed, staring glassy-eyed at the TV.

“Hey,” she said simply, offering him a tight smile.

“Hey,” he replied, glancing up at her only briefly. “How was work?”

“Eh,” she shrugged, knowing that response was enough to say it all. He was used to hearing the horror stories that came from days like this. “How was your day?”

“Eh,” he mimicked her. No surprise there.

She came further into the room and perched on the edge of the bed. “So,” she said, finding his foot beneath the pulled-up covers and giving it a pat, “not-so-great days for both of us, huh? We should make up for it by having a great night tonight.”

He finally looked at her, giving her a crooked smile. “What do you wanna do?”

“I dunno… maybe go out?” she asked, raising her eyebrows hopefully.

Immediately, he shook his head, just as she knew he would. “No.”

She couldn’t help but sigh. “Nick… don’t you want to go out? You’ve been cooped up in this house for weeks!” The only times she could remember him going out in public were for doctor’s appointments – a follow-up for the infected ulcer, and his regular check-up with Dr. Kingsbury. Both appointments had gone well. The antibiotics he’d been taking had done their job, and his infection was gone by now, although the ulcer was still healing, making it impossible for him to wear his prosthesis yet. There had been no unpleasant surprises in the oncology clinic either – all his tests had come out normal, and he was still in remission.

“Yeah, and do you think I’ve enjoyed that? That I wanted to spend the entire month of June this way?” he retorted sarcastically.

“No one’s making you stay at home, Nick,” she argued. “If you don’t want to spend all your time at home, then don’t! Let’s go out and do something tonight.”

“I don’t want to go out like this,” he grumbled, looking away.

“Well, not like that.” He looked like he hadn’t even showered that morning; his hair was disheveled and greasy-looking, and he was dressed in a rumpled, ratty old t-shirt. She was willing to bet he was only in his boxers beneath the covers, just the way he slept. She wondered if he’d gotten out of bed at all that day, other than to use the bathroom and raid the kitchen. “You’d have to get dressed and comb your hair first.”

He shook his head, his face contorting into an expression of pure irritation. “Damn it, Claire, don’t play dumb. You know what I mean.”

“You mean without your fake leg? Is that what you mean? Because I think that’s ridiculous. You can get around fine on crutches, and if you’re worried about what people will think… well… don’t be!”

He looked down, and she followed his eyes to the space on the left side of the bed, where his missing leg would have extended. She waited silently for him to look back up, to say something. When he finally lifted his chin, she saw that his cheeks were slightly red, and she could barely make out his words when he mumbled quietly, “It’s not that easy.”

“I know it’s not easy,” she replied, softening her voice. “But you have to get over this, Nick. You have to learn to go out in public and be confident in yourself, whether you’re wearing your leg or not. Do you really think it matters that much whether or not you have it on? People are going to stare at you no matter what – because you’re famous, because you’re a Backstreet Boy, not because you have one leg. And I know you’ve got to be used to that, because that’s been happening for years.”

She thought her point was perfectly logical, but he just shook his head. She sighed, her patience wearing thin. She did not have it in her to keep battling with him over this, not tonight. “Fine,” she said, standing up. “Stay here then. I’ll see you later.”

“Where you going?” he called as she briskly left the room. She did not answer. She didn’t know where she was going either. All she knew was that she had to get out of the house, or she was going to go crazy.

She was beginning to worry that he already was.

***

He heard the front door slam and her car start. Moments later, she pulled out of the drive, her taillights casting a red glow through the window of his darkened room. As soon as the lights faded, he leaned forward and put his face in his hands. “Good going, Carter,” he muttered to himself, raking his fingers through his hair as if they were claws.

He hadn’t seen Claire all day, and not five minutes after she’d come home from work, he’d argued with her. He hadn’t seen her since she’d stalked out of his room hours ago, and now she was gone. Who knew when she’d be back. So much for doing anything together that night. He knew he’d blown it; it was his fault she had left.

Nick sighed. The last few weeks had been some of the dullest of his life, nothing like he had expected when Claire had finally agreed to move in with him. It would be fun, he had thought, living with her, being able to spend as much time as he wanted with her. But, of course, that was not the way it was. She worked most weekdays, and he was left at home, alone and bored, with nowhere to go. And when she came home, they didn’t hang out nearly as much as he wanted them to.

“I’m tired, Nick; I just want to stay inside and relax,” she’d say, when he asked if she wanted to get in the pool with him. “I can’t, Nick; I need to make us something for dinner,” she’d sigh, when he suggested they watch a movie. “Nick… I have errands to run,” she’d explain, when he just wanted to talk to her. “Come with me?”

“No.” It was always a ‘no,’ and by now, she’d stopped asking. She came and went, taking care of things he knew he should be handling himself. Or at least helping her with. She rarely complained, but he was afraid she was unhappy. And it was all because of him.

He knew that. He knew he was being selfish – and ‘ridiculous,’ according to her.

But she didn’t understand. She didn’t know it was like to feel like a freak, to look like a freak, and to be stuck at home for fear of being treated like a freak. And that’s what would happen, he felt sure, if he went out to normal places like this, his stump bared for the world to see. People would stare at him, their eyes filled with sympathy, or worse, disgust. He couldn’t stand the idea of it.

Claire’s words returned to him: “I know you’ve got to be used to that, because that’s been happening for years.”

It’s not the same, he thought. Sure, he’d attracted attention in public for years, but until recently, for a good reason. People watched him because he was famous, because he was talented, because they thought he was good-looking. Now they would only watch him because he was different, because he was diseased, because he was disabled. Admiration would turn to pity, devotion to repulsion.

As long as he could hide it, he was okay. There were people who would recognize him and remember what had happened to him, but as long as he looked “normal,” it didn’t matter as much. But that was impossible now; he couldn’t hide it until he could wear his leg, and that couldn’t happen until the ulcer finished healing.

As soon as it does, I’ll take her out… I’ll make it up to her, Nick vowed. I’ll make up for everything…

***

“… I just had to get out; I couldn’t stand the thought of yet another night stuck at home, watching him mope around.” Lifting her head out of her hands, she peered at Amber and asked meekly, “Does that make me a bad person?”

“Aw, honey…” Amber offered her a sympathetic smile. “Of course not. Everyone feels that way from time to time. It’s just part of living with someone. You love ‘em to death, and yet, sometimes, they drive you crazy. You think I never get sick of your brother from time to time?”

Claire smiled across the table at her sister-in-law, glad she had decided to come over. After her argument with Nick, she’d gone straight to the phone and called Dianna, hoping for a nice “girls night” out on the town. But Dianna had a date that night. So did Laureen, who was going out with Tim again. Envious of them both, Claire had finally ended up calling her brother and inviting herself over to his place, desperate to get out of Nick’s house. Now she sat sipping a tall glass of iced tea in the cozy kitchen of Kyle and Amber’s home, a small two-bedroom ranch that was perfect for a young, married couple.

“What, sick of me? Never,” Kyle denied impishly, sticking his head into the kitchen. “Is this strictly a man-hating conversation, or can I sit down?”

“Sit,” Claire said. “We’re not man-hating; we’re just discussing my man.”

“Yeah, so what’s going on with your man anyway? Troubles in paradise?” She’d been pretty vague on the phone with him… all she remembered saying was something to the effect of, ‘I need to get out; can I come over?’ Good big brother that he was, he’d simply replied, ‘Sure. See you in awhile.’ No questions asked… until now.

“Kind of,” she answered, a sick feeling entering her stomach as soon as the words left her mouth. “The last few weeks haven’t been at all like what I expected…” And she launched into what she’d just gotten done telling Amber, how Nick was driving her crazy, the way he lay around the house all day like a hermit, refusing to go out or do anything. “… And he’s so needy lately. The first couple of weeks, he would pounce on me as soon as I got home from work and want to hang out with me. Which is great, but… I dunno, sometimes I need my ‘me’ time, you know? Or I have places to go and things to do, and he just wants me to stay at home with him. I know he’s just bored, but… it’s like he doesn’t understand that I have a life outside of him, that I have other priorities too. Someone has to run the house, because he sure hasn’t done much of that lately. Frankly, I don’t know how he’d survive if I wasn’t around. I’m the one who’s been getting the mail, buying the groceries, making dinner, cleaning-“

“Wait, you’ve actually made him dinner?” Kyle interrupted her, raising his eyebrows. “Well Jesus, no wonder he’s been so down lately. I would be too, if I was stuck with you as a cook. Are you sure he’s not just sick from whatever you’ve been feeding him?”

“Oh, shut up,” Claire rolled her eyes. “I’m not that bad. And somebody’s gotta do it. If it were up to him, we’d just order take-out every night.”

“And what’s wrong with that? He can afford it.”

She made a face. “Take-out every night? Blech. And anyway, you’re missing the point.”

“No, I get the point,” said Kyle. “And I understand why you’re mad. But look at it from his end – he hasn’t had an easy time of it either. Do you think he wants to be stuck at home all day, not doing anything?”

Claire looked up at her brother in surprise; he sounded just like Nick. “He’s not stuck,” she said carefully. “He’s choosing to stay at home. He’s not an invalid; he could go out and do things if he wanted to.”

“It’s no picnic trying to get around on crutches,” Kyle pointed out. “And maybe he doesn’t want to go out in public and have people stare at him.”

She cocked her head to the side; how was he doing this? It was like he was reading Nick’s thoughts. “Well, of course not, nobody would want that. But… but…” She sighed and shrugged helplessly before finally continuing, “he needs to get used to it. Well, not used to it, but… he needs to not let it bother him so much. He can’t waste a month of his life hiding in his house every time something happens and he can’t wear his artificial leg. Because something like this is bound to happen again, at one point or another.”

“You have a good point, and if you tell him this later, he’ll probably see that too. But it’s not that easy to just ‘get used to it.’ I can’t even imagine what it would be like to go through what he has.”

“I know… none of us can.” Claire shook her head. “But he’s come such a long way in the past year, and just when I thought he’d gotten his confidence back, wham, this happened. Now he’s acting worse than he was a year ago, right after it happened.”

Kyle nodded. “You may not think it, but in a way, this is probably harder to handle now than it was a year ago…”

“What are you talking about?” Claire asked incredulously. This was nothing compared to what he’d been going through a little over a year ago.

“I mean the whole not-being-able-to-walk thing. He had to have spent months learning to walk again last year, and then, when he was back on his feet and thinking that was all behind him, this happened, and for the time being, that ability has been taken away. He’s back to where he was last year. And trust me, that’s depressing.”

He was speaking from experience, she realized. During his sophomore year of high school, Kyle had torn his ACL at football practice. It took arthroscopic knee surgery, days on crutches, weeks of physical therapy, and months of rehabilitation before he had fully recovered from the injury. He’d gone back to playing football for the last two years of high school and made the college team his freshman year, only to suffer the very same injury in the second game of the season. That had marked the end of his football career.

“I understand,” she said. “It’s like you with your knee…” Or me with my leukemia, she realized. In a way, it had been harder to hear that she had relapsed, than to get the diagnosis in the first place. She had already been through so much… sitting in the doctor’s office, hearing that it had all been for nothing and that she would have to go through more treatments, had nearly broken her. Was that what it was like for Nick, not being able to use his leg after he’d worked so hard to get used to it?

Kyle nodded. “Give him a break, okay. He may be being difficult now, but he’s probably just frustrated. And you trying to get him to snap out of it and have a better attitude probably isn’t going to help things much. Just give him time and wait it out… I’m sure things will change once this is all behind him and he’s back on his feet.

“You’re right,” said Claire. “I’m sure everything will get better soon.” It has to, she added internally. It just has to.

***

Claire left Kyle and Amber’s house late that night feeling much better than she had when she’d arrived. Their talk had helped her more than she’d expected it too, reassuring her that her feelings were normal, that Nick’s actions were understandable, and that everything would work out before too long.

Nick’s house was dark when she got back, and she crept in quietly, locking the door behind her and checking to make sure the security system was turned on before she started through the house, flipping on lights on her way. After circling through the empty living room and kitchen, she headed for the front bedroom. The door was closed, and she knocked softly before pushing it open a crack. All the lights were turned off, as well as the TV, but as she opened the door wider, allowing light from the hall to spill in, she could just make out a large lump beneath the bedcovers. She tip-toed into the room, silently approaching the bed. There he was, curled on his left side, sound asleep.

He looked so peaceful when he was sleeping, she thought as she studied his features, just barely visible in the dim light. She was glad, for he had been anything but at peace when he was awake. She bent down, casting shadows over his face, and placed a feather-light kiss on his smooth forehead. “I love you,” she whispered, gently smoothing back his hair.

She left the room briefly to shut off the lights she had turned on all around the house and then returned. Ducking into the bathroom, she washed her face and brushed her teeth. She undressed quickly in the darkness of the bedroom and pulled on one of his old t-shirts before climbing carefully into bed beside him. He did not move, and the steady up and down movement of his back and shoulder as he breathed told her he was still immersed in sleep. She snuggled closer to him, spooning him from behind and draping her arm lightly around his torso.

Just give him time and wait it out, Kyle had told her.

I will, she thought with resolve. I’ll wait for you, Nick… and you’ll get through this. Things will be better soon.

With that thought repeating in her head, she closed her eyes and let the comforting sound of his slow, deep breathing lull her to sleep.


I will be the answer at the end of the line
I will be there for you while you take the time
In the burning of uncertainty, I will be your solid ground
I will hold the balance if you can’t look down

If it takes my whole life, I won’t break, I won’t bend
It’ll be worth it, worth it in the end
Cause I can only tell you what I know
That I need you in my life
When the stars have all gone out
You’ll still be burning bright

Cast me gently into morning
For the night has been unkind

- “Answer” by Sarah McLachlan


***


AN: Thanks to Susan for the song! :)

Chapter 33


AN: Thanks to Mary for the idea for this entire chapter!


A cry of surprise escaped his throat as he stumbled. His arms flailed wildly in front of him as he tumbled forward, desperately reaching for something to break his fall. His fingertips felt nothing but air, then liquid, as he landed with a splash, his body striking something hard beneath a layer of water.

In the distance, he could hear laughter. But he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Grunting in pain and discomfort, he lay flat for a moment, feeling the cold liquid rapidly soak his clothes and seep into his skin.

He lifted his head just in time to catch something small and black skirt past him out of the corner of his eye. Flinching, he reached his hands out and, planting his palms firmly against the hard surface beneath him, used them to push himself up. He rose awkwardly out of the water, his water-laden shirt weighing him down, and struggled to find his balance on one knee.

Then he looked down… and let out a yelp of fear. Instantly, he scrambled backwards, out of the water. He toppled over onto the hard pavement and felt the skin being scraped from his elbow. He hardly felt the pain though, too concerned with pulling himself off of the ground. He climbed back to his knee and peered down at the large puddle into which he had fallen, his eyes bugging with horror.

“1, 2… 3, 4, 5…” he began to count them, his eyes flicking every which way, as more of them rose from the swirling depths to float atop the muddy water, their stingers arched dangerously over their backs. “6, 7, 8…” He shook his head, his body trembling as he looked on, awestruck. “9… 10, 11… 12… 13.”

He waited a moment, but no more came. “Thirteen,” he repeated.

Thirteen scorpions.

The puddle was filled with them, floating lazily on the surface of the dirty water. Narrowing his eyes vigilantly, he could make out smaller creatures darting and wriggling through the swirls of upset mud. Worms, he thought at first. Then one crawled out of the puddle and started to work its way across the faded gray pavement.

No… centipedes, he realized, drawing back in disgust. He dragged himself out of the way, the hard street skinning his knee as he struggled to move. Even once he was a safe distance from the puddle, which was still teaming with scorpions and centipedes, he could feel them crawling on his skin. A shudder ran through his entire body, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get rid of the sensation. But it only increased, a light pinching feeling on his stomach turning sharp and painful. His eyes flying open, he yanked up his shirt and let out a shout.

A leech… clinging to his skin…

He tore it off quickly, his skin stinging where it had been attached, his fingertips slimy from touching it. He shuddered again, wiping them on his wet, muddy shirt.

Desperate to get away from this place, he looked around, searching for his crutches. He spotted them lying a few feet away and dragged himself toward them. Gratefully wrapping his fingers around the cold metal, he used one crutch to boost him off the ground, then bent down to retrieve the other. He adjusted them under his arms and then looked up. Where was he?

He was on a road, he realized, a long stretch of road that went on as far as the eye could see, eventually melting into the horizon. He turned and saw that it was the same on the other side, a vast nothingness divided only by this solitary road. Only here, there were people. Lots of people, lined on both sides. Maybe they could tell him which direction to go.

Gripping the handles of his crutches, he hobbled toward them, carefully avoiding the infested puddle he had fallen into earlier.

“Hey!” he called to the cluster of people ahead. “Can you help me?”

All eyes turned to him, but no one responded. Instead, they just stared, the loathing expressions on their faces becoming clearer as he neared them.

He felt his heartbeat quicken and his palms begin to sweat. Tightening his grip on the crutches, he hesitantly boosted himself forward, searching the crowd for a friendly face. “P-please,” he stammered unsurely, “I don’t know where I am. Can someone help me?”

But they only stared.

He quickened his pace, eager to get past them. Someone down the line would help him… they had to!

As he passed the strangers by, he saw their heads turn out of the corners of his eyes. And then he heard their whispers.


“Look…”

Look…”

“Look at him…”

“Look…”

“Just look at him…”


Their voices seemed to echo all around him, a neverending chorus that gradually crescendoed as the words took form.


“He’s disgusting…”

“I can’t even look at him…”

“He used to be so hot…”

“And now he’s a freak…”

“A freak…”


“Stop,” he pleaded in a whisper, wishing he could cover his ears. “Please,” his voice rose, “please stop!”

Desperate to get away, he hurried along at a frantic pace, trying to tune out the hiss of their hurtful words. The anonymous faces began to blend together as he hauled himself along, his arms aching. And then, up ahead of him, one face jumped out at him through the crowd. A familiar face, one he had known for twenty-five years…

“Mom?”

Flooded with relief at the sight of someone he knew, he veered in her direction. She would help him; she would get him out of there and take him home.

Her eyes followed him as he approached, never blinking, never straying from his lopsided form as he struggled toward her.

“Mom,” he gasped breathlessly. “Mom, I-“

“What have you done to yourself, Nicky?” Jane asked, her voice stony and hushed. She shook her head solemnly, her mouth pressed into a firm line. “What have you done?”

“What? What do you mean?” Nick cried, his voice shrill in his ears. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve ruined yourself,” she said. “You’re ruined.”

Hot tears sprung to his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he ducked his head and turned away, hobbling on down the road, the eyes still following him. The sea of faces seemed endless, but every now and then, he would recognize a face. But never a friendly one.

Leah. “You think I want you now, Nick? Think again. No one will ever want you now.”

Lou Pearlman. “You’ve really lost it, haven’t you, Nick? What a shame… what a shame…”

He turned away, his face hot, his eyes stinging.

He couldn’t go on. He couldn’t take another step. He couldn’t take anymore of this.

Stopping, he let his crutches fall and sank to the hard, cold ground, tucking his leg beneath him. “Please,” he moaned, bowing his head and pressing his hands firmly against his ears as the chorus of voices continued their hateful chants. “Please stop…”

Above the muted chanting, one voice rang out clearly. “Nick!”

“Leave me alone,” he pleaded, closing his eyes.

“Nick! Open your eyes, Nick!”

“Nick!”

His eyes flew open and immediately focused on Claire’s face, which was hovering over him, her eyes wide with panic.

“Nick… are you awake?”

“I’m awake,” he murmured, realizing he was in his own bed. “I just had a dream… a nightmare…”

“I heard something. Something loud – like a crash. Did you hear it?”

“Huh? A crash?”

“It sounded like it was coming from the front hall,” Claire continued, her voice hushed. “What if someone broke in?”

“No, no, that’s impossible,” he muttered, still trying to clear his head of the images from his dream. “The security alarm… we’d know.”

“But I heard some-“ she started and then froze, her body tensing visibly.

“What-?” he started to ask, but she shoved her hand over his mouth, silencing him.

“Shh… listen,” she whispered, her eyes wide. “Can you hear that?”

He listened, straining his ears. And then, he heard it. Muffled sounds… shuffling… footsteps?

“I’m gonna go check it out,” Claire said suddenly, dropping her hand from his mouth and rolling off her side of the bed.

“Claire, wait!” Nick hissed, but she held up a finger, shushing him, and went ahead anyway, slowly and silently easing the bedroom door open before he could stop her. “Are you insane?!” he mouthed after her, scrambling out of bed. He grabbed his crutches, tucked them quickly under his arms, and took off after her, nimbly thrusting himself forward.

Then he heard her scream.

It was a high-pitched, bloodcurdling scream, the kind you only heard in a horror movie, and it caused his heart to skip a beat. Instantly, he froze, unable to move, unable to even breathe.

He’d never heard her make a sound like that before.

His whole body began to shake, and his knee buckled. If it had not been for the crutches he clung to, white-knuckled, he would have collapsed. For a second, he almost did, his weight hanging solely on the crutches, which wobbled beneath him, threatening to fly out from under him. Finally, he regained his senses and steadied himself, letting out the breath he’d been holding in a great whoosh.

She needs me, was the only thing he could think. I have to get to her.

Not even considering the horrors might be awaiting him, he flung his crutches forward and swung his body after, moving as fast as he could to get to her. He pushed his way through the bedroom door and toward the front hall. And there, he froze again, stricken by the sight with which he was met.

A man, clothed in solid black, stood in the corner of the hall, near the front door, his thick arm around Claire’s neck. Something gleamed near her ear, and he realized it was the tip of a large knife. The blade was against the side of her neck.

“Don’t move, or I’ll cut her throat,” the intruder threatened in a gruff, menacing voice.

Nick wasn’t sure he could have moved if he’d wanted to. Terror coursed through his veins faster than the blood pumped by his racing heart, which pounded erratically against his ribcage. His eyes locked with Claire’s, which were filled with utter dread. His mouth opened, but no words came out. She, however, suddenly let out a shriek.

“Nick, watch out!!”

Out of nowhere, another dark-clad figure darted forward, catching Nick off-guard. In an instant, he was hurtling to the side, his hold on his crutches gone. He hit the wall and slid down it, ending up in a heap on the cold, tiled floor. Just as quickly, he boosted himself back up to his one knee and tried to stand, but the second man was right there. He saw a glint of metal, something large and long, but before he had time to register or react, the object came smacking into his stomach, delivering him a crushing blow. He collapsed again, his head hitting the wall as he fell backward, clutching his middle in agony.

For a few seconds, he writhed on the floor, momentarily debilitated. Through the sound of blood rushing in his ears, he heard Claire scream again. No words this time, just another bloodcurdling scream. He lifted his head in a panic, trying to get his blurred vision to clear. It did, just in time to see one of his crutches come flying down at him again. He gasped and choked and listened to Claire scream as he was beaten again and again.

As his body was ravaged, his mind began to race, a voice deep inside him screaming, Get up! Fight back! Fight for her; she needs you!! Between the crushing blows, he struggled to move, to get up, to defend himself. He got to his knee, only to be knocked back down.

I can’t, came the wretched realization. I can’t…

The man delivered a final blow, and, surrendering, his body collapsed. Lying flat on the floor, he let his head fall. Darkness was closing in, and he felt himself slipping away, unable to focus on what was happening any longer. The last thing he was aware of, as his eyelids drooped, was the sound of Claire screaming.

***

“Nick?”

His whole body was trembling, and every now and then, he would jerk or moan, as if he were in pain. Alarmed, she put her hand on his shoulder and shook him gently, trying to bring him back to consciousness.

“Nick? Wake up! Wake up, Nick!”

***

He awoke to the sound of his own name and found himself lying on the front hall floor, the cold tiles chilling him to the bone. He sat up quickly, and as the pain hit him, remembered what had happened before he lost consciousness. Quickly forgetting the pain, his mind flew instantly to her.

“Claire?!”

He looked around frantically and found her exactly where the man had restrained her before, in the corner. She was alone now, sitting on the floor as he was, her back pressed against the wall. The realization that both of the intruders were gone filled him with relief momentarily.

Then he noticed the blood. A large circle of it, staining her lavender lingerie a sinister shade of scarlet.

“Nick…” she croaked, and all of a sudden, he felt as if he were going to be sick.

“No,” he choked out. “God, Claire… no.” Without a second thought, he put out his hands and used all the strength he could muster to drag himself across the smooth tiles. Pain radiated from every inch of his body, intensifying with each movement he made, but he ignored it; getting to her was all that mattered now.

When he reached her side, he saw that she was breathing laboriously, her ashen skin covered in perspiration. “Oh God,” he whispered again, realizing how badly she’d been wounded. How could I have let this happen? he thought. How could I have let him do this to her? “I’m sorry, Claire… God, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s not… your fault…” She closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, he saw how dull they looked, not their usual shade of lustrous blue. “I’m so cold…”

He shook his head, panic-stricken, not knowing what to do for her. So he did the only thing he could think of. Very slowly and gently, he eased her down, so that she was lying flat, her head in his lap. He ran his hands up and down her arms, trying to warm her up. He felt her wince, and his eyes shot instantly to the stain on her silken nightdress. It seemed to be growing larger. Swallowing hard, he reached for the hem of the garment. With trembling fingers, he pulled it slowly up, over her thighs, past her waist. When he lifted it above her stomach, he felt his own stomach turn at the sight.

“It’s bad… isn’t it?” she whispered.

He couldn’t answer. He lowered the nightgown, and when he pulled his hands away, he saw that they were streaked with blood.

Her blood.

“I’m sorry, Claire,” he repeated thickly, tears rising in his eyes once again as he stared down at his hands. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…”

***

“I’msorry…I’ms-sorry…I’msosorry…”

“Nick!” Claire shook him frantically; why wouldn’t he wake up?? She’d awoken to find him tossing and turning, moaning in his sleep. Then he’d started trembling, and now he kept mumbling the same thing over and over again. I’m sorry… I’m sorry… “Wake up!” she cried, roughly patting one of his cheeks.

That did it. With a gasp, his eyes snapped open, and his body jolted upright. Immediately, he looked over at her. In the light of the bedside lamp she had turned on, Claire could see the tears in the corners of his eyes; they had started to trickle down his cheeks.

“Nick?” she asked, her voice shrill and frightened. “Are you okay??”

He took in a deep, shuddering breath and released it slowly before nodding. “You’re… you’re all right,” he panted, staring at her with wide eyes.

“I’m fine,” she said, confused. “Just completely freaked out, thanks to you. Did you have a nightmare??” She didn’t try to hide her concern. What on earth had he been dreaming of that would make him react so severely?

He nodded again. “It was horrible,” he admitted hoarsely. He looked completely shaken.

Gently, she reached out to him and pulled him into a tight hug. Smoothing back his hair, running her hand up and down his back like a mother would to a child, she whispered soothingly, “It’s okay now… just a dream.” She held onto him for a long time before finally letting him go. As they both straightened up, she asked, “Do you want to tell me about it?”

He wiped his eyes, rubbing away the moisture that had formed there. “There were two of them,” he said. “Kind of a dream within a dream… and the last one, it felt so real… I thought it was real. I thought you were…” He trailed off, and she leaned forward, her eyes widening.

“Thought I was what?”

It took a moment for him to respond, but finally, he did. “Dying,” he answered in a whisper, dropping his eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she swallowed hard. “I was dying?” she repeated weakly. “Should I take that as a bad sign, the fact that you’re killing me off in your dreams?” She forced a smile; she’d meant it as a joke, to lighten the situation. But his lips did not even twitch. He looked utterly miserable. “I’m just kidding,” she said quickly, putting her hand on his shoulder. With her other hand, she reached out and cupped his chin, gently tilting it up so that his eyes met hers. “It’s okay, Nick,” she assured him. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

He looked away and did not reply, and a sick feeling came into the pit of her stomach. “Nick?” she asked hesitantly. His eyes shifted back to hers. “Um, just wondering… what… what was I dying from? Was it… cancer?” She was almost afraid to hear his answer. Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself. It was just a dream. It doesn’t mean anything.

He surprised her by suddenly letting out a light chuckle. “No,” he said. “It wasn’t cancer at all. You… you got stabbed.”

“Oh,” she said, the sick feeling vanishing instantly. “Is that all??” She felt a million times better. Stabbed? Psh.

“Is that all??” Nick repeated, giving her an incredulous look. “It was awful, Claire… scared the hell out of me.”

“I know,” she said quickly, offering him a sympathetic smile. “I’m just saying… well, wouldn’t it have been scarier if it was something that was a little more likely to happen?” She laughed. “What are the chances of me getting stabbed?”

Finally, he cracked a smile. “Yeah, good point,” he murmured quietly. She could see the smile slowly fading from his lips. Something was still bothering him.

“Nick? What else happened?” she probed. “I mean, besides me getting stabbed?” She flashed him a quick grin. He didn’t smile back this time. He only shrugged, his shoulders falling limply. “Don’t do that,” she pleaded with him. “Don’t just shrug. Talk to me.”

He let out a soft sigh and lay back against the pillows. She lay back down beside him, curling up against his chest, wishing he’d open up to her. She felt his arm come around her, pulling her even closer, and she smiled a little, enjoying the feeling of being held close that way. She felt warm… safe… loved.

“I love you,” she murmured, closing her eyes and taking in all the sensations that surrounded her… the softness of his skin against her cheek… the gentle whoosh of breath as he inhaled and exhaled, his broad chest expanding against her body. When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble in her ear.

“Thank you.”

She blinked and lifted her head so that she could see his face. “You’re welcome?” she said uncertainly, feeling a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. “Thank you for what?”

“For saying that… for loving me,” he replied. His expression was somber as he went on quietly, “If you didn’t… I don’t know what I’d do. Just be alone, I guess.”

All of a sudden, she could see where this conversation was going to lead. “Nick,” she sighed, “I’m not the only one who loves you. There are plenty of people out there who care about you just as much as I do. And if you hadn’t have met me, you’d be with some other woman. What’s happened to you hasn’t changed the fact that there are plenty of females out there who are crazy about you.”

His pillow rustled as he shook his head slowly. “No. They all think I’m a freak… a disgusting freak. They couldn’t even look at me.”

“Couldn’t even look at you?” she repeated, confused at first by his switching of tenses. Then it dawned on her. “You mean in your dream? Your nightmare?”

That had to have been what had sparked all his doubts this time. They resurfaced occasionally… less often now than during the first few months they had been together, but every now and then, he still got this way… self-conscious, down on himself, refusing to believe that anyone could find him desirable. At first, she’d been included in that “anyone.” Now it was “anyone but her,” as if she were the only person in the universe who could look past the missing leg and love him for what really mattered. She supposed that was progress, but still, it was hard, witnessing these self-loathing phases he went through. He’d been worse these last few weeks than she’d seen him in awhile.

He tilted his chin down, a subtle nod. “I fell… I tripped and fell, into a puddle of muddy water that was filled with scorpions and centipedes and leeches.”

Oh my! she thought, like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. But as she felt his body shudder against hers, she chose not to say that out loud. He would think she was mocking him, and that was the last thing she wanted.

“I could hear them laughing, when I fell,” he continued quietly. “And when I got up, I was on this road… and there were all these people lined up on both sides…”

She listened as he recounted his dream, how he’d had to walk down the road, past all these people who stared at him and whispered about him behind his back. She winced as he repeated the words they had said, his voice filled with bitterness. Her heart ached as he listed the people he had seen, people who had once been friends, lovers, even his own mother.

Then he went on to the second part of the dream, and she listened intently, curious to find out how exactly it had gone from him walking down this road to her getting stabbed. He explained how he’d woken up within his dream and found himself in bed with her, and how she’d gone to investigate the sounds they’d heard.

That was dumb of me, she thought, but again, she did not speak. The memories of the seemingly vivid dream were still pouring out of him, and she knew better than to interrupt. He needed to get this out; he needed the release.

“… So I got up and followed you, as fast as I could… but I was too late. By the time I got out to the front hall, they already had you. One of them was holding onto you, holding you at knifepoint. Y-you were terrified, and I… I couldn’t do anything… The other guy, he knocked me down, and he grabbed one of my crutches and started beating me with it. And I couldn’t stop him… I couldn’t get up; I couldn’t fight back… I couldn’t do anything.” His voice was thick and filled with shame.

“Well, of course you couldn’t,” she jumped to his defense, her hand lightly trailing across his chest. “Who could, with someone beating them like that?” she asked, her voice turning shrill as she imagined the horrific scene from his nightmare.

He swallowed hard. “I should have been able to… I should have been able to stop them… I should have been able to protect you… and I couldn’t.”

“It’s not your fault, Nick,” she said softly. “It was just a dream. Nothing like that is going to happen. And good lord, if I ever thought I heard someone breaking in, I sure as hell wouldn’t go check it out! I mean, come on, that’s just asking for it!” He chuckled, and she smiled with relief. “Are you all right?” she asked him.

“I guess,” he replied uncertainly. “I just…” He trailed off with a heavy sigh.

“Keep going,” she urged him gently.

“I just… hate being this way. I hate feeling helpless.” Back was the bitterness and spite in his voice.

“You’re not helpless, Nick,” she told him. “There are a lot of things you can still do… and look how far you’ve come since last year. Yes, you’re always going to have limitations, but who doesn’t? There are tons of things I’ll never be able to do.”

“Well, sure… but I’m talking about basic stuff. Basic, easy stuff. I can’t even fucking walk anymore, not without help.”

“You can sing though. I’ll never be able to sing, even with help. But to you, that’s easy,” she countered. His pillow rustled again as he moved his head. She tilted her head up to find him scowling down at her, with a look that said, That’s not fair. She shot him an impish grin. “See?” she said. “Everybody has strengths and weaknesses, whether they’re totally able-bodied or not. Yes, just about anyone could kick your ass in a footrace right now, but you could kick just about anyone’s ass in a race on Nintendo. You can shoot baskets better than I can… you’re a better scuba diver than me… hell, you might still even be able to swim faster than me, but I’m not giving you that one that easy… we’ll have to race and find out sometime.”

She watched as a smile broke out on his face. “You’re on,” he challenged, his voice slightly hoarse.

“You got it,” she smiled back. He yawned in response, making her giggle. “Ready to go back to sleep?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, closing his eyes. “Thanks, Claire. For l-“

“You don’t have to thank me for loving you,” she interrupted him. “I don’t do it for your gratitude… I don’t do it for anything. I just… do. I love you, Nick; I can’t help it.” She paused, then added, “And anyway, that’s a Bon Jovi song.”

“What is?”

“’Thank You For Loving Me’.”

“Thank you-ou-ou… for loooov-ii-ing me,” he warbled in a surprisingly accurate Jon Bon Jovi impression and then cut off, smiling sheepishly at her. “That’s not even what I was gonna say, you know.”

“Oh really? What were you going to thank me for then?” After she asked the question, she felt his arm tighten around her again.

“For listening.”


Oh, why you look so sad?
Tears are in your eyes
Come on and come to me now
Don’t be ashamed to cry
Let me see you through
‘Cause I’ve seen the dark side too

When the night falls on you
And you don’t know what to do
Nothing you confess
Could make me love you less

I’ll stand by you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you

So if you’re mad, get mad
Don’t hold it all inside
Come on and talk to me now
And hey, what you got to hide?
I get angry too
But I’m a lot like you

When you’re standing at the crossroads
Don’t know which path to choose
Let me come along
Cause even if you’re wrong

I’ll stand by you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you
Take me into your darkest hour
And I’ll never desert you
I’ll stand by you

- “I’ll Stand By You” by The Pretenders


***

Chapter 34

Claire glanced at the clock, then down at the schedule in front of her. It was almost 1:30, and she had one patient left before she got off at two o’clock. She smiled when she saw that the patient was a baby, only fourteen months old. They didn’t get a lot of babies in the office, even though it was recommended that babies be brought to the dentist for the first time between six and twelve months. At least her last patient of the day would be interesting.

Make that last patient of the week, she thought, remembering that it was Friday once again. And this Friday had to be better than the last one.

The past week as a whole had been better. She and Nick’s talk in the middle of the night had eased the tension that had been building between them. Over the course of the week, his mood had improved steadily, aided by the fact that his ulcer was finally almost healed. “It’s still tender,” he’d confessed on Tuesday, “but I bet I’ll be able to wear my leg again by the end of the week.”

She hoped he was right, for his sake. Even though he was less sulky now, he still had cabin fever, and she couldn’t wait until it was cured.

“Claire?” Claire looked up to see Carey, who worked the receptionist’s desk, standing in the doorway of the break room. “Just letting you know, your 1:30 appointment is here.”

“Oh okay. I’ll be out to get her in a minute,” replied Claire. She looked down at her schedule again, checking the patient’s name. Elaina Hammond. “Elaina,” she said to herself, grabbing the schedule off the table and standing up. She left the break room and walked up the hallway to the small waiting room. Opening the door, she stepped in and called, “Elaina?”

It was not hard to tell which patient was hers, as there was only one baby in the room, an adorable little girl with round, rosy cheeks and light blonde hair that was clipped in place with a little red bow. The baby’s mother, a young, pretty, blonde woman, scooped her up and juggled her on one hip as she strode across the room.

“Good afternoon,” Claire said to the woman, her smile drifting from the mother to the baby. “Go through this door and to the second room on your left, please.” Once they were in her cubicle, Claire said, “You’re welcome to sit in the dentist chair and hold her, if you’d like. Usually that makes it less scary for the kids, having Mommy hold them.”

“Okay,” the mother agreed, and Claire put the head of the dental chair up and the legs down so that she could sit, the baby in her lap.

“I’m Claire, and I’ll be taking a look at Elaina first,” Claire introduced herself as she set a tray of instruments out. “Is this her first visit to the dentist, Mrs. Hammond?”

“Yes, it is,” the woman answered. “My husband heard it was good to start taking children to the dentist early, so he had me make her an appointment. And call me Leah, by the way. ‘Mrs. Hammond’ sounds so… old,” she added, wrinkling her nose. “Technically it would be Mrs. Gaylers-Hammond anyway, but I don’t like for people to call me that either. I just got married this past February – Valentine’s Day, I should say – and I guess I’m just not used to being a “Mrs.” yet.” As she talked, she waved her left hand around, making sure Claire caught a glimpse of the sparkling rock on her ring finger.

“I’m sure that does take awhile to get used to,” Claire said lightly, and before she could stop it, the thought came – Claire Carter… Mrs. Claire Carter. What would that sound like? She felt herself beginning to blush; it was too soon to be thinking of things like that, and certainly, this wasn’t the place to be having those thoughts. Yet she couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop the thoughts from coming. Or what about Mrs. Ryan-Carter? Using my maiden name, like she did…

Looking at the blonde woman in front of her, who was smoothing back a few stray wisps of her daughter’s hair, something suddenly dawned on Claire. “Did you say Gaylers-Hammond?” she asked, trying to keep her voice casual while studying the woman through narrowed eyes.

“Yes,” replied Leah. “Gaylers is my maiden name. Why? Have you heard of me? I work in entertainment; I’m trying to get into acting-“

“Oh, uh… I’m not sure. Maybe. Your name just sounded familiar somehow…” Claire trailed off vaguely, struggling to hold back what she really wanted to say. Something had clicked, and she knew exactly who this woman was now.

Leah. Nick’s ex, Leah. The conniving vixen who had made Nick believe she was carrying his child in order to win his heart, and his money.

Her eyes dropped to the child sitting on Leah’s lap. There was the baby… the baby he’d once thought of as his, before she was even born. He had wanted that baby. He rarely spoke of it, but from the little she had heard, that much was clear. He had let Leah into his home so that he could take care of her and the baby, once it was born. He had planned for them to become a family… to marry Leah, and to be a father to their daughter.

What Leah had done had been devastating to him.

Knowing all of that, it was hard to even look at the woman without wanting to strangle her. Be professional, Claire warned herself. You can’t let your feelings get in the way of doing your job. Taking in a long, calming breath, she steadied herself and sank down onto a stool in front of the dental chair. “Okay,” she said, inhaling deeply. “Let’s see if Elaina will open her mouth for me…”

***

Nick stood in front of the full-length mirror on the back of his bathroom door, scrutinizing his reflection. He turned to the left, then to the right, stopping to pull at the left leg of his jeans. He smoothed the thick denim back over his prosthesis and straightened himself, turning back to face the mirror. He was comforted by the sight of himself looking whole and complete, the way he was supposed to look, the way he wanted other people to see him. It was all an illusion, of course – the hunk of titanium inside his pant leg would never be flesh and blood – but to him, the illusion was better than the reality.

It had been over a month since his attempt to run on his prosthesis had backfired, and finally, he had healed enough to wear the artificial leg again. He’d been trying it on all week, wearing it a little at a time, while Claire was at work. She didn’t know. Today was the first day he was going to wear it out, and he wanted to surprise her.

It was their six-month anniversary, and he was going to pick her up from work and take her out, to make up for last Friday and all the nights before that. He glanced at his watch. It was already 1:30. She got off at two. Deciding he had better leave now, to make sure he didn’t miss her, he left the bathroom, shutting off the light on the way out, and went into the bedroom to find his shoes. It felt so good to be walking again, although a month of not doing it had left him slightly unsteady. “It’ll get better with practice,” he told himself, sinking down on his bed to put on his shoes.

After pulling his shoelaces tight, he stood up and left the room. He found the car keys for the Jag and, within minutes, was pulling out of his drive, on the way to the dentist’s office where Claire worked.

***

“Dr. Somers will be in to examine Elaina in a few minutes.” Claire left the room, closed the door behind her, and let out a huge sigh as soon as she was out of earshot. Forget all the kids that kicked and screamed and tried to bite her fingers. Forget all the people with rotting teeth and rancid breath. That had to have been the hardest patient she’d ever had to deal with. Well, not the patient… more like the patient’s mother. The baby, Elaina, had been good, as far as babies go; she hadn’t put up too much of a fuss when Claire looked at her teeth. And for what it was worth, Leah had been pleasant enough… but Leah, Claire had determined, had no clue who she was. She wondered how she would have been treated if Leah had known she was Nick’s current girlfriend and knew all about what Leah had done to him last year.

Oh well, it didn’t matter. It was over now, and Claire had determined that next time Elaina came for an appointment, she would make sure one of the other hygienists saw her. Being in the same room with Leah and fighting to hold her tongue was an experience she did not want to repeat anytime soon.

She wandered back to the break room and found Laureen sitting there, bent over a short stack of paperwork. “Hey,” she said.

Laureen looked up and smiled. “Hey, Claire. You getting off soon?”

“Yep, I’m off at two. You?”

“Same. Just finishing up this stuff before I go,” answered Laureen, motioning to the pile of papers in front of her. “So, you doing anything fun tonight?”

“I dunno… Nick and I’ll probably just hang out at home,” Claire replied slowly, knowing he probably wouldn’t want to go anywhere. They’d do what they always did – order a pizza, rent a DVD or two, and spend the night on the couch or in bed together. It wasn’t a bad way to spend the night, but she couldn’t wait till he was back on his feet and ready to start going out to places again. She didn’t mention to Laureen that it was also their six-month anniversary… six whole months since they had made their relationship official on New Year’s. In a way, it felt much longer than that. Granted, they had known each other for over two years now, but she could hardly remember a time when she had not loved Nick. And he was so much a part of her life now that the years before she’d met him seemed even more distant.

“That sounds nice,” Laureen’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “I’m going over to Tim’s place… we’ll probably do the same thing.”

“Have fun,” Claire said, hoping she didn’t sound sarcastic. She was dying to ask if Laureen had heard any mascot stories yet, but Carey popped in before she had the chance.

“Claire? You’re needed in the waiting room.”

“The waiting room?” Claire repeated, frowning in confusion. “Okay…” She followed Carey up the hall, hoping this didn’t have anything to do with Leah. But as she walked past her exam room, she caught a glimpse of Leah still sitting in the dental chair, holding Elaina while the aging Dr. Somers examined her. Continuing on quickly, Claire pushed through the door that led to the waiting room.

Her confusion vanished when she spotted Nick slouched in a chair in the far corner of the room. Breaking into a delighted grin, she hurried over to him. “What are you doing here?!” she exclaimed, her surprised voice ringing through the otherwise deserted waiting room.

“I came to pick you up from work,” he smiled.

She smiled back, happiness bubbling inside her. He was here… he was smiling… and when she looked down, she saw that he was wearing his prosthetic leg. Well, that explained it all - both the surprise and the smile. She dropped down into the seat beside him and nudged the foot of his prosthesis with her own. “So… how’s it going?” she asked, giving him a meaningful look.

“Fine,” he replied with a nod and a meaningful look back.

She smiled again. “Good.”

“So… are you ready to go?” he asked, shifting in his seat.

“Oh… not quite. I just have to clean up after my patient lea-“ She stopped suddenly, struck with the horrible realization that Leah was still there… and now, so was he.

“What?” he asked, looking confused. “After your patient what?”

Claire stood up abruptly. “You know what, you should come wait in the break room; that’ll be better,” she said quickly. “Come with me; I’ll take you back there, and you can hang out while I finish up. Laureen’s back there; she’d love to talk to you; you know she’s a fan…” She reached for his hands and tugged, trying to pull him up out of his seat. He gave her a bewildered look, but reluctantly stood up.

“Okay…” he said, his eyebrows furrowing. “Whatever you think would be bes-“

Now it he who stopped suddenly, and Claire didn’t even have to turn around to know why. She had heard the door to the waiting room open and Dr. Somers’ kind, gravely voice say, “Have a nice weekend, Mrs. Hammond. We’ll see you and Elaina back here in six months.”

Claire turned just in time to catch the flirtatious smile Leah shot the older dentist, as she said in a sugary voice, “Thank you so much, Dr. Somers. And like I said, you can call me Leah.”

Feeling sick to her stomach, Claire slowly looked back at Nick. The blood had drained from his face, and he stood stock still, staring over her shoulder, his jaw clenched, his eyes hard and cold. His hands, she saw, lowering her eyes, had been balled into fists. A vein bulged in one of his forearms. His whole body had tensed.

She wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what. He wasn’t looking at her anyway; his steely gaze was still fixed on Leah. Biting her lip, she turned her head again and followed it.

Dr. Somers retreated from the waiting room, closing the door behind him as he disappeared. Boosting her daughter higher on her hip, Leah turned. She saw them instantly; there was no denying the look of shock that flickered across her striking features.

Just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the same artificially sweet smile she’d given Dr. Somers. “Hi, Nick,” she said softly, swaggering across the room toward him and Claire. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Do you have an appointment this afternoon too?”

“No,” Nick answered her, his voice low and stoic. “I’m picking up my girlfriend.” He reached for Claire’s hand and pulled her around to his side. She immediately slid her arm around his waist and stood possessively by his side, staring Leah down.

“Your girl-? You mean her?” Leah questioned, looking from him to Claire. “You’re dating Nick?” Her voice was filled with contempt.

“I really don’t think my personal life is any of your business,” Claire spoke evenly, “but yes, we’re dating.”

“We’ve been together six months,” Nick added, and Claire glanced up at him just in time to catch the smile he gave her, a brief crack in the stony façade he was maintaining. She returned the smile, then looked back at Leah, whose pouty look vanished just as quickly as her shock had earlier.

Back came the sugary smile, as she said sweetly, “Wow, that’s great. I’m glad you found someone new, Nick. My honey and I got married earlier this year, in case you were wondering.” She flashed her diamond ring around again. “We’re very happy together.” The way she said it, it was almost as if she were trying to convince herself, and Claire wondered how happy she really was. She didn’t see how someone like Leah, someone who deceived and manipulated other people, could ever be truly happy. To be happy with your life, you first had to be happy with yourself – isn’t that what people always said?

“Glad to hear it,” Nick said hollowly, his voice completely void of any sincerity.

Wondering how long this conversation was going to last if the two of them were left on their own, Claire decided to step in. “Well, excuse us,” she said to Leah, “but I need to get back to work. Come on, Nick, I’ll show you to the break room. It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Hammond. Sorry - Mrs. Gaylers-Hammond.” Bringing her arm tighter around Nick, she guided him across the room, past Leah, and through the waiting room door. Letting the door slam closed behind her, she walked Nick back to the break room.

Laureen looked up in surprise as the door burst open, and they came in. Her face lit up when she saw Nick. “Hi!” she squeaked.

“Hey,” Nick said weakly and looked at Claire.

“Will you wait here for a few minutes? I won’t take long; I promise.” I’m sorry, she added with her eyes, hoping he would understand. I’m sorry you had to run into her.

He offered her a tiny smile. “Sure. No hurry.” He sat down at the table and smiled across at Laureen. “Hey, Laureen, wassup?”

Relieved, Claire backed out of the room and closed the door. Well, she thought, I guess that could have been worse.

***

Chapter 35

AN: Thanks to Bianca, Veronica, Laureen, and ESPECIALLY Mary and Susan for the ideas!! :)

“Are you okay?”

Nick looked over at Claire, who had quietly asked the question as soon as they had reached the parking lot of Dr. Somers’ office. She looked up at him, her expression meek, her eyes troubled.

“I’m okay,” he answered her with a nod, hoping to alleviate her worries. Surprisingly enough, he was being honest. Seeing Leah had caught him off-guard, that was for sure – she was the last person he’d expected to meet up with that afternoon. But he’d come away from their encounter reasonably unscathed, and he felt much better than he had the last time he’d seen her, in a grocery store the previous year. The way she had looked at him, the haughty arrogance on her face and in her voice… it had bothered him then. But this time, he’d realized after he’d had a chance to re-compose himself, it hadn’t bothered him so much. If she had been trying to make him jealous, it hadn’t worked. She was “happily” married and had a beautiful child… so what? He was happy too – reasonably happy, most of the time – and he had Claire.

Claire… she’d been both his weapon and his shield. Just having her there by his side and feeling her arm around him had comforted him and given him confidence. Leah was his past, he’d been reminded. Claire was his present… and his future. There was no need to keep dwelling on the past when he had that kind of a future to look forward to.

Claire reached for his hand and gave it a warm squeeze. “I’m sorry,” she said as they walked to his Jag. “I was hoping you wouldn’t run into her… I almost forgot she was there, until she came out.”

“It’s okay,” he assured her. “You couldn’t help it. It wasn’t the first time I’ve run into her since… well, you know… and I’m sure it won’t be the last time. We live in the same city.”

Claire nodded. “As long as you’re okay.” She paused, then added, “You were right, you know. She is a bitch. All that fake sweet talk… ugh.”

Nick chuckled. “Oh, I know… believe me, I know.” With the push of a button on his keychain, he unlocked the car doors, and he and Claire climbed in.

“So,” Claire said, fastening her seatbelt, “where are we headed?”

“Home,” answered Nick automatically and waited until she looked over him, unable to hide the disappointment on her face. With a grin, he added, “To change. Then we’re going out.”

Her look of disappointment transformed to one of excitement. “Really?”

“Really,” he promised as he backed out of his parking space. “I want to make up for these last few weeks… I know they sucked for you too, and I’m sor-“

“Don’t apologize,” Claire silenced him, touching his arm. “We’ve already been through this.”

“I know,” he said sheepishly, “but I still feel bad, and I want to make it up to you and treat you right. So we’re going to go out and live it up fancy tonight. It’s July 1 – we’re gonna put the shitty month of June behind us and start this month off on the right foot.”

“Sounds great, Nick,” Claire replied, flashing him a broad smile. A moment later, she added wryly, “So speaking of the right foot… or left, I should say… how’s it holding up?”

“Oh!” Nick exclaimed, realizing she was talking about his fake leg. “Um, good so far, actually.”

“Good! I know I don’t have to tell you to make sure you don’t overdo it this time, right?”

“No, you don’t, Mom.” Taking his eyes off traffic, Nick glanced over and gave her a quick wink. She didn’t have to tell him, that was for sure. He wasn’t stupid – there was no way in hell he was going to mess things up like that ever again. He was going to wear his leg out that night, but he didn’t have anything strenuous planned – an elegant dinner at Tampa’s most extravagant restaurant (after what he’d put her through, Claire deserved nothing less than a five-course meal at a five-star restaurant) and after that, maybe a walk on the beach. A simple date, but he thought it was romantic and hoped she would like it too.

“So where are we going?” Claire asked again once they’d reached home. “I mean, what should I change into?”

“Something dressy,” replied Nick. “We’re goin’ fancy tonight, baby.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, but did not protest. An hour later, she was back in the car beside Nick, looking sophisticated and pretty in a little black dress that hugged all the right curves and flattered her figure. A small aquamarine pendant hung on a delicate silver chain around her neck, and in her ears were matching earrings. She’d touched up her makeup, adding more than she usually wore, and pinned up her hair, leaving little wisps swirling around her face. Rarely did she dress up this way, and though he liked her natural look just fine, he had to admit, he enjoyed seeing her like this.

“Wow… we are going fancy!” Claire exclaimed as Nick pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant.

“You ever eaten here before?” Nick asked as he came to a stop and put the car into park.

She laughed. “Ha, like I could afford this. Or have ever dated someone who could afford this.”

He smiled awkwardly and adjusted the lapel of his black Armani suit. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, I guess. You’ll get a kick out of this place; it’s fine dining, all the way… I’m talking five-course meals, multiple forks…” He chattered on and on as he came around to her side of the car and offered her his arm, trying to be a gentleman. Smirking, she took it, and together they crossed the parking lot, her heels clacking against the pavement. Their pace was slow, as she appeared to be struggling to stay in her strappy shoes, while he struggled to simply walk normally, without an obvious limp. (A month off of his leg had left him out of practice.) They made quite a pair, he was sure.

“Monsieur Carter,” the maitre d’ greeted Nick as he escorted Claire into the elaborately-decorated entrance area of the restaurant. “Your table is set, if you would just follow me…” The tuxedoed host led Nick and Claire through an elegant dining room to a small, private room in the back. “Mademoiselle,” he murmured, pulling out Claire’s chair for her.

“Thank you,” she said, sinking down lightly into the chair. After the maitre d’ had seated Nick as well and left the private room, Claire burst out laughing. “He called me ‘Mademoiselle!’” she cried. “I’ve never been anywhere where they call you ‘Mademoiselle’!”

“Well, get used to it, Mademoiselle. When you’re with me, it’s first class all the way,” Nick replied with a smirk and a wink.

“Oh right, Monsieur Carter.” She rolled her eyes and grinned across the table at him. “I have a feeling this place is going to make me feel like some uncultured hick.”

“Eh, you won’t be alone there; I always feel that way in places like this,” Nick told her truthfully, shrugging. “But it’s fun once in awhile. And I wanted to take you someplace fancy. Only zee best for my mademoiselle,” he added in a French accent.

Claire giggled. “I’ll say. Look at all this silverware!” She eyed the shiny silver utensils, neatly lined up on both sides of her plate.

“I told you!” Nick exclaimed.

“Do you know the etiquette for stuff like this? Which fork to use first and whatnot?”

Nick shrugged. “I just start from the outside and work my way in; that’s what Kevin told me once.”

“Good enough for me,” she said with a laugh.

A waiter came to take their wine order, and before long, they were both sipping on glasses of an expensive, rich wine. The first course came next, some kind of mushroom soup. Claire was not even halfway through her bowl when the waiter brought the next course, a fillet of salmon with red wine.

“How is zee fish, Mademoiselle?” asked Nick in the same French accent, as she picked up the fork furthest from her plate and took a bite.

“Très ex-zee-lent,” she replied in an equally terrible accent, grinning. “And yours, Monsieur?”

“Oui oui, très… good.”

Claire giggled. The giggling continued through the remaining three courses, increasing with each glass of wine she finished. Nick was not much better. By the time dessert arrived, he was reciting poetry in a Pepe Le Pew voice. But the only romantic poetry he knew was song lyrics, and the only love songs he could think of on the spot were Backstreet Boys’ ones, which made Claire laugh even harder.

“ ‘Every leetle zing zat you have said and done, feels like eet’s deep within moi… doesn’t reelly matter eef you’re on zee run, seems like we’re meant to be…’ ”

Claire snorted. “Who wrote those lyrics anyway? Isn’t that a little creepy, not caring who someone is, what they’ve done, whether or not they’re on the run…?”

“Hey, don’t be dissing Max Martin; he’s da man,” Nick warned, momentarily forgetting the French accent.

“My bad. Continue.” She took another drink of wine and did a fancy little flip of her wrist, motioning him on.

Nick racked his brain, trying to think of more song lyrics. He went with the first words that popped into his head. “ ‘I stare at your face, into your eyes… outside zere eez so much passing us by… all of zee sounds, all of zee sights… over zee Earth and under zee sky…’ ”

Claire wasn’t laughing this time, but she did smile. “That’s the song you sang to me in the hospital.”

“Yeah… it is,” he realized. He hadn’t even thought of that when he had started reciting the lyrics, but as soon as she said it, he remembered. Maybe that was why it was those lyrics that had materialized in his head… they were special to her, even if he had not realized it right then.

“ ‘Too much cold and too much rain… too much heartache to explain…’ ” Claire smiled. “I like this song a lot better than the creepy ‘I don’t care if you’re a serial killer, as long as you love me’ one.”

Nick smirked. “Good… at least you like one of them.”

“It’s a sweet song. You sound sweet singing it.”

He grimaced. “I probably didn’t that day.” In his mind, he traveled back to that day, to that moment, when Claire, weak, feverish, and in pain, had asked him to sing for her. It was not a moment he liked to think about.

“You sounded beautiful, Nick.” Her smile was sincere, but he didn’t believe her.

“You were all doped off at the time, and you’re tone deaf,” he said with a playful smirk.

“And I thought it was beautiful. And that’s all that matters, right?” She flashed him a toothy grin.

Nick chuckled. “Zat iz true, Mademoiselle.”

Claire dipped her spoon into the lavish mousse sitting in front of her. “Mmm,” she said, “this is really good. Best part of the meal. And I’m gonna eat it all.”

“Hungry?” Nick asked, watching as she shoveled another large spoonful of the rich dessert into her mouth.

“I shouldn’t be, after five courses,” she replied, swallowing, “but yeah.”

“The portions here are tiny though,” said Nick – he was still hungry too. “Damned skinny French people… don’t know anything about American appetites.” Claire giggled again. “Next time, we’ll go to a steak house and eat till we puke.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Claire nodded as she finished the last bite of mousse.

“We could pick up a pizza on the way home, if you want.”

“Hm… I could go for pizza, if you’re still hungry too.”

Nick nodded. “Let’s get pizza.”

“Call Leonardi’s now – then it’ll be about ready by the time we leave and drive over there.”

Snickering, Nick dug his cell phone out of the pocket of his dress pants. Claire sat across from him and laughed the whole time, as he called for the number for Leonardi’s and then placed their pizza order from the middle of the finest French restaurant in Tampa. “Twenty minutes,” he said with a grin as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

Half an hour later, they were on their way home, a pizza box filling the car with the delicious aroma of bubbling cheese and spicy pepperoni, while a 12-pack of beer slid across the leather backseat every time Nick made a turn.

“This is more like it,” said Claire, licking pizza sauce off her fingers as they sat side by side on Nick’s couch, the open pizza box on the coffee table in front of them.

Nick took a long swig from his beer and burped loudly. “You said it, babe.”

“Charming,” Claire smirked and let out a low groan. “I’m stuffed now.”

“Me too,” Nick agreed, patting his stomach. “You wanna shove the rest in the fridge?”

“Sure.” Sliding off the couch, Claire scooped up the pizza box and carried it into the kitchen. When she returned, she asked, “So… what now? Movie?”

Nick made a face; he’d watched way too many movies over the last month. “Can we just go take a walk or something?”

Claire smiled. “A walk sounds great.” She held out her hand, and he grabbed it, standing up. Together, they went out onto the deck and down to the beach. The sun was just setting over the water, casting a beautiful reflection of rich purple and orange across the rolling waves. Nick had lived along the beach for years, and he still never got over the beauty of the sunset. A cheesy thought, maybe, but seeing the sun set over the gulf was one of those little things that made him glad to be alive. It was something special, something he was glad to be sharing with Claire on their six-month anniversary.

When they reached the sand, Claire stopped and kicked off her black flip-flops, which she’d traded with the heels she’d worn to the restaurant. She was still in her dress, though, and he in his suit (minus the jacket and tie, which had been discarded on the living room floor). He balanced on his prosthesis and held on lightly to her arm as he lifted his good leg and reached down to tug off his shiny black dress shoe and black sock. He set his bare foot down and dug his toes into the warm sand. Then he bent and untied the laces of his left shoe before carefully pulling it off. He slid the sock off as well, exposing the plastic foot of his artificial leg, and rolled up the cuffs of his black pants.

“Ready?” Claire asked as he straightened up.

“Yep.” He took her hand, letting his fingers slip between hers, and they started off down the beach. They wandered leisurely along the water’s edge, the waves lapping at their ankles as they rolled in and out. Hand in hand, they walked in peaceful silence, each lost in thought and simply enjoying the moment. Every now and then Claire’s hand would slip out of his as she darted into the surf, returning with a shell she’d scooped up from the water-logged beach. “You’re like a little kid,” Nick joked the third time this happened, remembering how he himself had ran in and out of the tide as a little boy, jumping waves as if they were hurdles and picking up interesting shells along the way. He’d had quite a collection of them at one time, but his big glass jars of seashells were gone now. They’d been thrown out, he supposed, during a move or something. Funny, he almost missed them now, though he wasn’t quite sure why. After all, they were just a bunch of old shells…

“So what?” Claire asked with a casual shrug. “It’s fun to be able to act like a kid again sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Nick said, wistfully thinking of those trips to the beach during his childhood again, when he had run like the wind, through the sand and into the sea, laughing and playing without a care in the world. Those were good times… happy times… innocent times. Before life became so complicated. Sometimes he did wish he could go back.

But then again, this moment in itself was pretty nice. It felt good to get out of the house and do something with Claire, even something as simple as this, a walk down the beach at dusk. Nick enjoyed the exercise, although as Claire let go of his hand again to collect another shell, he felt a familiar twinge in his stump. He stopped, then carefully put weight on his left leg, testing it. Sure enough, pressure turned to slight pain. Groaning, he looked back to see how far they’d gone from his house. Not too far – he could still see it, the lights in the windows casting a glow through rapidly darkening night – but it was farther than he wanted to walk at the moment, knowing the pain would only increase with each step. He’d pushed himself enough already that night… he knew it would stupid to go further and get hurt again.

“You ready?” Claire had returned.

He looked down at her. “Um… you think we could rest for a minute? I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly, “but-“

“No, no, that’s fine!” she interrupted him, smiling as she took hold of his arm. “Come on, let’s go sit down where it’s dry.”

Relieved, Nick let her lead him a few feet away from the water, where the sand lay arid and untouched. He eased himself down and stretched his legs out in front of him; it felt good to take a load off. Claire plopped down beside him, folding her legs to the side and smoothing the skirt of her dress over her knees. “Is it hurting?” she asked hesitantly, looking down at his left leg and then back up at him, her expression pained.

“Just a little,” he told her. “I just thought maybe I should stop and take the weight off it for a few minutes.”

She nodded. “Good idea. I guess it’ll probably take you a little while to get used to walking on it again, won’t it?”

“Probably,” he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? This is nice, sitting out here. It’s so quiet… and peaceful, you know? It’s a good place to just sit and talk.”

“I know,” said Nick, smiling at her. She smiled back and reached for his hand. He let her take it, entwining his fingers with hers once again. “So…” he murmured, running his thumb lightly up and down hers. “Six months, huh?”

“Six months,” she repeated softly, another smile lighting her face.

“Can I make a confession?”

“What?”

Nick swallowed back the guilt that had risen in his throat and offered her a sheepish grin. “I don’t have anything for you. I-I should have gotten you a gift, and… well, I…” He shrugged, showing her an empty hand. “I’m sorry.”

Claire snickered and shook her head. “Nah, don’t be sorry; I don’t have anything for you either. And I have no excuse – I haven’t been stuck at home for the last month. I just wasn’t sure what to get… or if we were even doing anniversary presents. So we’re even, okay? We can just be each other’s gifts.” She flashed him a cheeky smile.

He smiled back weakly. “That’s fine with me, but I think you got the raw end of the deal there, my dear. I’m damaged goods… you might have to return me.”

The smile left Claire’s face instantly, and she gave him a warning look. “Nick… please, don’t say stuff like that.”

“I was just kidding,” he said quickly – and he had been. But how could she have known that? She’d been dragged to so many of the pity parties he’d thrown himself in the last month, she’d probably forgotten he even had a sense of humor. He sighed. “Seriously though, Claire… I know I haven’t been acting like a very good gift lately.”

“How exactly does one act like a gift?” she asked, hiding a smirk.

He stuck his tongue out at her. “You know what I mean. I haven’t been acting like a very good boyfriend. I don’t know if I’ve shown it or not, but… even if the last month has been kind of shitty, I want you to know that I’m really glad you’re here… that you’re living with me. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, but I promise, it’ll get better.”

“I know,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Why do you think I’m still here? I know the last month has sucked for you, Nick, and I also knew that you’d snap out of your pissy little mood once it was over.”

“You know me too well,” he said, grateful, as always, for her compassion. He’d never been with a girl that understood him as well as Claire did. His past girlfriends had put up with him, for his money, or his fame. But he knew she wasn’t like the others; she wasn’t in this to get rich and famous off of him. She was still with him because she truly loved him – there was no other explanation. Any other woman would have left him by now, he felt certain. But not Claire. She’d been with him for six whole months, and by his side as a friend for much longer than that. It added up to only a little over two years, but to Nick, it seemed like so much more than that. He felt like he’d known her forever. And he hoped that he would know her forever, that their six months would turn to years… years and years together. Never had he thought about being with one woman for that long. He’d loved Leah, enough to propose marriage, but deep down, he had known their relationship would not last forever. But he and Claire… they had been through so much together already… “forever” didn’t seem like such a hard goal to achieve.

“Whatcha thinking about?” asked Claire, and, realizing he had slipped away for a moment, Nick looked up to find her gazing at him, a hint of a smile curving her lips.

“You,” he replied honestly. “How you’re the only person I’ve ever felt this way about.”

Her smile grew. “What way?” she asked, a playful gleam in her eyes.

“Like…” He paused, struggling to put his thoughts into words. “Like I want to be with you… for… for a long time. I’ve never been very good at making long-term commitments with people… and when I try, I end up getting burned, because I find out that the girls I’m with… they don’t want to be with me. They’re in love with my name, my face, my bank account. But you’re different, Claire. I love you… like I’ve never loved anyone before… and I know that you love me too.”

“I do,” she whispered, tightening her grip on his hand as she looked into his eyes, her face showing the honesty in her words.

He nodded and swallowed. “That’s what keeps me going sometimes… knowing that you’re there for me, that someone still cares about me the way you do. I have to remind myself of that sometimes… on mornings when I wake up and see this goddamn stump under my covers and don’t feel like even getting out of bed. I think of you, and I remind myself that I have to get up and get dressed and put on my leg, for you… because I never want to disappoint you.”

“Nick… I… I guess I’m flattered in a way, but… honey, you should be doing those things for you, not for me. You shouldn’t worry about disappointing me… you could never disappoint me.” Leaning forward, she put her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. “I love you,” she whispered into his ear. “Even when you lie in bed all day, moping.” She brought her lips to the side of his neck, placing a tender kiss there. He squirmed and instinctively burrowed his head into his shoulder to get her away from the ticklish spot. She drew back, giggling softly. “Ticklish much?”

“Shut up,” he retorted with a sheepish grin, rubbing the spot where she had kissed him.

She laughed, and then without warning, slapped one of her shins. “Mosquito,” she said, when Nick gave her a look of bewilderment. “Damn things are always trying to eat me alive.”

“Oh…” Nick looked around, hoping there weren’t more. “Maybe we should head back.”

“Only when you’re ready.”

“I wouldn’t want you to get a West Nile or some shit like that.”

Claire snickered. “Oh man, that would sure be the kicker, wouldn’t it? Survive leukemia; die of West Nile Virus? What are the chances?”

It wasn’t really funny, but Nick smiled a little. He loved her attitude; she wasn’t afraid of anything. Well, she was – and he knew it – but she hid it well. He knew that too. “Come on,” he said and struggled to his feet, always a difficult task.

“Are you sure?” asked Claire, who hadn’t moved. She looked up at him, moderate concern on her face.

“Wouldn’t have gotten up if I wasn’t sure,” replied Nick. “Too much of a hassle.”

She offered a sympathetic smile and stood up as well, brushing sand off the back of her dress. “I think we could use a trip to the dry cleaner’s tomorrow,” she commented, making a face. “My butt’s all sandy. So is yours.” He giggled as she gave his ass a swat, wiping loose grains of sand off of his pants. “There, that’s better,” she said. “Let’s go. I’m ready to get out of this dress and into some pj’s.”

“I’m ready for another beer,” said Nick.

“That too.” Claire reached for his hand again, and they started slowly back up the beach, toward the house. Nick didn’t realize how much he was limping until Claire stopped and looked over at him. “You’re hurting, aren’t you?” she asked.

Nick shrugged. The rest had made his stump feel better, but walking brought back the discomfort. It wasn’t unbearable – no worse than the strain he’d felt in it when he’d first learned to walk on the artificial leg – but he couldn’t deny that it did hurt a little. “Not bad,” he told her, “but yeah… a little.”

“Do you wanna sit down again?”

“No,” Nick said quickly. “No, let’s just keep going. I can make it.”

“I don’t want you to get another ulcer…”

“I haven’t overdone it that much,” Nick said assuredly. “It’s just like when your feet get tired after walking around all day… that’s all it is.”

Claire bit her lip, looking uncertain, but finally, she nodded. “Okay, come on. But here, put your arm around my shoulders…” She guided his left arm over her shoulders and slid her right arm around his waist, offering him some support. “Will that help, if you lean on me a little?”

He hated having to rely on someone like this, but he had to admit, it did help, having her to take some of the weight off his left leg. “Yeah,” he admitted, “this is better.”

They walked like that the rest of the way, close together, their arms around each other. By the time they reached the house, Nick was exhausted. He collapsed onto the bed in his room as soon as they walked in and lay there, while Claire walked back and forth through the room, changing out of her dress and into an old t-shirt and cotton pajama shorts, washing the makeup off her face, and trading her fancy up-do for a messy ponytail.

“I have mosquito bites, look,” she said when she emerged from the bathroom, climbing onto the bed beside Nick. She held out her arm, and he could see several bites. “I think there’s some on my back too.”

“Aww… I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “Not your fault. You didn’t bite me.”

Propping himself up on his elbows, Nick waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “I could…” he said.

Claire gave him a look. “No thanks, Dracula. I’m gonna go get the Calamine lotion; you can put that on.” With an impish grin, she rolled off the bed and left the room. Rolling his eyes, Nick wearily sat up and moved to the edge of the bed. Standing up, he undressed quickly, changing into a worn t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. He was just pulling off his artificial leg when Claire came back, a large pink bottle of Calamine lotion in her hand. “How is everything?” she asked, as he bent over his stump, checking for blisters.

“Fine,” he replied; the skin was a little red, but not broken. Relieved, he turned down the covers on his side of the bed and scooted backwards until his back was pressed against the pillows. He pulled the top sheet and thin blanket over his lap and patted the empty space on the other side of the bed. “You comin’ in?”

“Of course.” Claire bounced onto the bed beside him and held out the bottle of Calamine and a handful of cotton balls. “Please?” she asked, sticking out her bottom lip pleadingly.

“What am I, your private nurse?” Nick asked with mock irritation, taking the supplies from her hands.

“No, you’re my boyfriend. Now get to it; they itch.” Shooting him a grin, she pulled her shirt over her head and turned so that her back was within his reach. He could see a few puffy white blotches dotting her skin in the places her dress had not covered. He tipped the bottle of Calamine against a cotton ball, saturating the cotton with pink lotion. Setting the bottle aside, he placed the cotton ball against a bite in the middle of her back. Claire shivered, her back and shoulders shuddering. “Cold!” she gasped.

“Sorry,” apologized Nick, lightly rubbing the cotton over her skin until the bite was covered with lotion. Then he sought out the next bite and continued. By the time he was done, she looked like a leopard, her back dotted with half dollar-sized pink circles. “Man, they really were trying to eat you alive,” he observed, raising his eyebrows at the sight.

“What can I say? No one can resist me.” She flashed him a cheeky smile over her shoulder.

He smiled back and put his hands on her shoulders, gently easing her back until she was resting against him. “I sure can’t,” he said, bringing his lips down to meet hers.

She ended the kiss giggling and rolled off of him. “I’m gonna grab another beer,” she said, getting up. “You want one?”

“Sure.”

She left the room and returned with two cans of beer. She handed him one as she climbed back onto the bed and settled herself by his side, her body leaning against his slightly. As they cracked open their drinks, Claire asked, “So, is there anything on TV?”

Nick swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I dunno, why don’t you turn it on and look?” he replied with a smirk.

“Why don’t you hand me the remote then?” she shot back, and he grudgingly picked up the TV remote from his night table and gave it to her. She turned on the TV and started flipping channels. There wasn’t much on, but finally they settled on the Sci-fi channel, which was playing some cheesy 70’s horror movie. They watched as they drank, laughing and making fun of it the whole time.

By the time the “climactic ending” was over, Nick had laughed so hard he was afraid all the pizza and beer in his stomach was going to come back up. But it felt good, laughing like that. He’d laughed a lot that night, more than he had in weeks, it seemed.

Tonight had been a good night. And forget the fancy French restaurant. This, he decided as he looked over at Claire, was the perfect way to spend their six-month anniversary. Just lying in bed together, laughing, enjoying each other’s presence. No need for flowers or expensive gifts; no need for classy, romantic nights out. He didn’t feel the need to impress her, and she didn’t need to be impressed. This was enough. This was perfect.

He felt her body shift against his, and he smiled unconsciously. He loved the feel of her up against him, the comfort she gave him just by being there. He’d been searching for this for so long, for a woman who could make him feel the way he did then, without saying a word. He thought back to what he’d told her earlier.

“I want to be with you… for a long time. I love you… like I’ve never loved anyone before… and I know that you love me too.”

“I do,” she whispered.

In that instant, he realized what he’d known for over a year. He’d found her. And he was never going to find another woman like her.

“Claire?”

She turned her head, looking up at him, her questioning eyes illuminated by the flickering light of the television. His mind raced, but not with thoughts he could comprehend. At that moment, all he could understand was the feeling burning deep down within him, warming him from the inside out. Love. It was love, love for the one person who made him feel complete, the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

He reached for her hand, tucking it within his own. The words had already formed on his tongue. Without hesitation, he opened his mouth and let them out.

“Marry me.”

***

Chapter 36

Claire blinked. Had he just said what she thought he said? Had he just said…

Marry him?

As the words sunk in, her mind began to race. Was he serious? Was he really asking her to marry him? For real? She wanted to ask, but she only stared, unable to find her voice at first. When she finally did, she uttered one single word, the only one that came to mind.

“Yes.”

Now Nick blinked. He stared at her for a moment, looking just like she had probably looked a moment ago. Then his face broke into a wavering smile, and his eyebrows lifted, carving creases across his forehead. “Yes?” he asked, his voice high, as if he could scarcely believe her reply.

She felt a slow smile spreading across her face as a fluttering sensation rose in her chest. “Yes!” she repeated. “Nick…”

“Claire…”

They both stopped and shook their heads, still staring at each other. Neither of them knew quite what to say. A million thoughts were still tumbling through Claire’s mind as adrenaline pumped through her veins, and the reality of the situation was still sinking in. Nick had just proposed to her… and she’d said yes. That meant…

“We’re engaged?” she said weakly, her voice sounding higher than usual too. Tears sprung to her eyes with the unexpected rush of emotion that hit her. Engaged… she was engaged!

Nick grinned and pulled her close to him, kissing her forehead. “We’re engaged,” he repeated in a whisper, bringing his head down so that their noses and foreheads touched. “I love you,” he murmured, lowering his lips to meet hers.

She kissed him back with fervor. “I love you too,” she whispered, her lips moving against his. She felt his hands caressing her cheeks, and they remained there even as he pulled back, cupping her face.

“I don’t have a ring,” he confessed. “This was… totally unplanned.” He offered her a sheepish smile.

“And totally unexpected,” she added with a grin. “That might win the award for most random proposal ever, Nick.”

He laughed. “Well, since we have no ring, how about a toast?” Turning away from her momentarily, he grabbed his beer can off the nightstand on his side of the bed and waited while she did the same. “To us,” he said seriously, holding out his can.

“To us,” she repeated, clinking her mostly-empty can against his. She burst out laughing as the beer sloshed against the aluminum on the inside of her can. This was the tackiest proposal ever – and she loved it. She was laughing too hard to take a drink, and so was he. As far as she remembered, neither of them ever did drink their toast; instead, they laughed till their stomachs hurt, set their beer cans aside, and finally collapsed against each other, out of breath.

The last thing Claire recalled before falling asleep was how wonderful she felt as she snuggled against Nick, warm from the heat of his body, tipsy from the alcohol in her system, and blissfully happy from the events of a night she would remember for the rest of her life.

***

I like the faces you make at me
When we’re lying in bed
They are always so beautiful
I like it when you tuck your body close to me
When we’re sleeping it’s all right

Dream your fears away
I’ll be here all day
Dry your eyes
Cause I’m here to spend
This moment in your arms again

The forecast calls for rain to take away the day
I guess we’ll just have to stay inside the room
I’ll bring your breakfast warm to wake you from your dream
As I lift your head upright

Dream your fears away
I’ll be here all day
Dry your eyes
Cause I’m here to spend
This moment in your arms again

- “Faces” by Josh Kelley


Nick awoke to the sound of rain pelting against the windows of his bedroom. Normally he hated rainy days, but that morning, he didn’t mind. He was warm and dry in his bed, and Claire was still nestled against him, her arm draped limply across his chest as she slept. Turning his head to look at her, he smiled. He’d gone to sleep slightly buzzed from all the beer he’d drunk, but the events of the night before were still crystal clear to him. Somehow, he had found it in him to propose to her. And she’d said yes. In an instant, his girlfriend of six months had become his fiancée.

His fiancée. Now that was weird. He’d never had one of those before. In fact, the only woman he’d even thought seriously about marrying was Leah, and as he reminded himself now, he’d been conned into that. He’d felt obligated to propose to Leah. He loved Claire. Funny though, he had always thought that proposing to someone would be one of the most nerve-wracking experiences of his life. And oddly enough… it wasn’t. He had felt totally comfortable. No stressing out over it, no rehearsing some big speech… he had just said it, and that’s all there was to it.

That’s because she’s the one, he thought, his heart fluttering. There was no doubt about it in his mind. Claire was it.

Dipping his chin slightly, he planted a soft kiss on the top of her head. He heard a rush of breath as she inhaled deeply and exhaled in a soft sigh, her head turning to the side as her body stirred. She lifted her head and rolled over so that she was stretched out on her stomach, facing him. “Morning,” she greeted him with a drowsy smile.

“Good morning,” he replied, reaching out to gently brush a lock of hair away from her eyes. “Sleep well?”

“Perfect. Is it raining?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Mm… what time is it?”

Nick turned his head to check the clock, but it was hidden behind a wall of empty beer cans. “Dunno,” he answered. “Who cares? We don’t gotta be anywhere today, do we?”

“Nope.”

“We can stay in bed together all day if we want.”

She smiled at him and then lifted her left hand in front of her face, extending her fingers. She gazed at them for a moment and then dropped her hand, her eyes meeting his again. “Was this part of my dream, or did we really get engaged last night?”

Nick felt a grin tug on the corners of his mouth. “You weren’t dreaming. We got engaged last night.”

She giggled. “This is crazy! You’re my fiancée… god, that sounds so weird!”

“I know,” he laughed, remembering his identical thought earlier. “Wait till the guys hear… they’re never gonna believe it. Little Nicky… married??” He could hear Howie’s incredulous voice saying it now.

“Wait till I tell my parents… they’re gonna flip!”

Nick’s elation was momentarily curbed. “Flip??” he repeated worriedly.

“In a good way,” Claire added quickly. “I’m the only daughter… my mom is gonna be so excited to get to plan a wedding!”

Wedding… wow. That word made it all so real. It was really going to happen. Yesterday, all he could think about was wearing his leg for the first time in a month and taking Claire out for a nice sixth-month anniversary date. It had been less than eighteen hours since they’d been goofing off in that restaurant, and now, today, they were engaged. Yesterday seemed like a month ago, and last night felt more like last week. A total of three words exchanged between the two of them had changed everything.

It was, as she had said, crazy.

But in a good way.

A weird gurgling noise interrupted Nick’s thoughts, and he looked at Claire. “Was that you?”

“My stomach,” she giggled. “Wanna get up long enough to grab some breakfast?” She started to sit up, but he stretched his arm across her middle, holding her back.

“I’ll get it,” he said. “You lie here.” Easing her back against the pillows next to him, he rolled away from her and sat up on the edge of the bed.

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” she questioned, looking up at him in amusement. “I’m the woman, and you’re-“

“The gimp? Yeah, I know, but I can still bring you breakfast.”

Claire gave him a look. “I was going to say ‘incompetent in the kitchen,’ but okay.”

Nick snorted. “I’m incompetent in the kitchen? You should talk.” He winked, and she blushed, knowing he was right.

“Fine, you win. Make me breakfast.”

He nodded. “I will.” He stood up and put on his artificial leg, then shambled out to the kitchen. He opened the fridge, then all the cupboards, trying to decide what to make. He assembled the ingredients for French toast, and while it was baking, he poked through the various kinds of cereal in one of the cupboards. He finally pulled down a box of Cracklin’ Oat Bran and inspected it for a moment, wondering when on Earth he’d bought that (must have been a Claire purchase, he decided), before setting it down on the counter. He smiled briefly in satisfaction and went to check on the French toast.

Half an hour later, he walked back into the bedroom, carrying a tray with two plates of French toast and two glasses of juice. He set the tray down across Claire’s lap and got back into bed beside her, stretching his legs out on top of the covers.

“Aww, Nick, you’re such a sweetheart… believe it or not, this looks great,” said Claire, smiling down at the breakfast in front of her. She picked up the small glass of orange juice and took a sip, then started cutting her French toast.

“Try the egg,” said Nick, pointing to the hard-boiled egg he’d placed carefully in the corner of her plate.

She looked over at him suspiciously. “Why?”

Nick shrugged. “I know you like eggs?” She narrowed her eyes at him, but shrugged and reached for the egg. “Careful,” Nick blurted as she touched it, causing her to look over at him again.

“Nick… what did you do to the egg?” she asked in a patronizing voice, sounding like a mother who had just caught her little boy with his hand in the cookie jar. “It has to be hard-boiled… you took the shell off,” she observed, giving the egg a poke. The white jiggled against her fingertip.

Nick chuckled. “What, did you think I would give you a raw one and wait for you to crack it and have it run everywhere?”

“Yes,” she smirked.

He stuck his tongue out at her. “Just open it.”

“Open it?”

“I mean, eat it… just eat it.”

Narrowing her eyes again, she gave him another mystified look, but obediently reached for the egg again. She picked it up carefully and brought it closer to inspect. Seeing the crack in the white where he had so carefully cut around the middle, she gingerly pulled the top of the egg up. It swung back like a door on a hinge and tore away from its bottom, landing with a plop on her tray. She looked down at it and giggled. Nick smiled, then looked back at the bottom half of the egg in her hand, waiting for her to notice…

A second later, she did. She gasped at first, and then she burst out laughing. “Nick!” she cried breathlessly, laughing uncontrollably. Nick only smiled sheepishly and admired his own creativity. He’d sliced the egg three-quarters of the way through its middle, hollowed out the powdery yellow-gray yolk, and in its place, set a single piece of Cracklin’ Oat Bran. As her laughter died, Claire plucked the square-shaped cereal loop out of its egg encasement and held it up. It sort of resembled a ring, only thick and square-ish… and made of bran… But she got the point. Smiling, she set down the bottom of the egg “box” and slipped the cereal onto the ring finger of her left hand. It only went halfway before getting stuck, and she giggled again.

“Sorry,” Nick said, offering her a shrug.

“No… no, it’s… it’s perfect,” she replied, grinning over at him. “You are so cute!”

He flashed her a toothy Crest smile. “Nah, I’m just cheesy. I wanted you to have a ring.”

“And now I do. And what a beautiful, crackling, oat-branny ring it is.” She held her left hand up and turned it this way and that, as if the ring were sparkling in the light.

“Just wait till you get your real ring. I promise, it’ll be even more beautiful,” Nick vowed.

She smiled over at him. “And when will that be?”

“Today, if you want. I know a great jeweler in town. We can go pay him a visit later if you want to pick it out.”

She nodded. “That sounds great.”

“Good,” he smiled. “Now dig in, my Oat Bran Queen. Your French toast is getting cold.” Claire giggled and stabbed her fork into a piece of French toast, raising the powdered bread to her lips. “How is it?” he asked, as she swallowed.

“Quite tasty, actually. You were right; you’re not incompetent in the kitchen.”

“Like you ever had a doubt,” Nick replied with a smirk and took a bite himself. “Hey, not bad. Our score for the morning – Carter, 2… Kitchen, zip.”

Claire giggled and shook her head. “Cute, Carter… so cute…”

Watching as she looked down at the cereal ring jammed halfway onto her finger again, Nick just smiled. A low roll of thunder sounded in the distance, and the pattering of rain against the window was relentless, yet his mood could hardly be dampened. As far as he was concerned, the storm was finally over, and the sun was starting to shine again.


I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day
When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May
I guess you say, what can make me feel this way?
My girl, talking ‘bout my girl
My girl

I’ve got so much honey, the bees envy me
I’ve got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees
Well, I guess you say, What can make me feel this way?
My girl, talking ‘bout my girl
My girl

I don’t need no money, fortune or fame
I’ve got all the riches, baby, one man can claim
Well, I guess you say, what can make me feel this way?
My girl, talking ‘bout my girl
My girl

I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day with my girl
I’ve even got the month of May with my girl…

- “My Girl” by The Temptations


***

Chapter 37

Claire sat with her hand raised in front of her, absently twisting her wrist back and forth and admiring the way the diamond on her left hand sparkled in the sunlight that streamed through the tiny window. She nearly jumped when a large hand clamped over hers, pulling it gently across her body and up to a pair of soft lips. She turned her head to the right, where Nick sat smirking.

“You wanna quit flashing that rock everywhere?” he asked in a playful tone. “People are gonna start to wonder what you’re doing, and then they’ll see the ring, and they’ll see me, and by the time the entertainment news airs tonight, everyone will know-“

“Sorry,” she replied with a sheepish giggle. “I didn’t realize I was doing it. I can’t help it; it’s still so new and… beautiful.” When Nick let her have her hand back, she brought it up to admire the engagement ring once more before dropping her hand to her lap, determined not to look at it again.

It was hard though… the ring was beautiful. She’d never dreamed of owning a piece of jewelry so fine. Nick had just picked it up for her a few days earlier, nearly a month after they’d placed the order for the custom-made ring with Nick’s jeweler.

“I just want something simple,” she’d insisted that day in the jewelry shop, while the jeweler, a friend of Nick’s, showed her various selections, each as elegant as the next. “Small and simple.”

Of course, Nick had argued with her. “Don’t worry about the price,” he’d told her; he wanted her engagement ring to be nothing short of dazzling. The sweet little half-carat diamonds solitaires she was admiring just wouldn’t do; he thought she deserved more.

In the end, they had compromised. The stone she’d chosen was one-and-one-half carats, half the size of the three-carat rock Nick had wanted to place on her finger. It was oval-shaped, colorless, and flawless, set in a platinum milgrain band that was encrusted with one-fifth-carat canary yellow diamonds. The canary yellow had been Nick’s idea – they were rare, he said, and he wanted her to have something special and unique. She’d finally agreed on it, though she couldn’t help but wince when she thought of the fortune it had to be costing him. She never did find out the final cost of the ring – he refused to tell her. All she knew was that she loved it. Nick had good taste, and astonishing as it was, he knew what he was talking about when it came to jewelry. The ring had turned out absolutely gorgeous, and even now, after days of wearing it, she couldn’t stop looking at it.

She placed her right hand over it so that she could not look, knowing Nick was right. They were sitting in the first class section of an airplane; someone was bound to notice if she kept flipping her hand around, and Nick wasn’t ready for that yet. He’d kept their engagement tightly under wraps, not wanting the press to get wind of it yet. She was fine with that; the thought of being thrust into the spotlight just for being Nick Carter’s fiancée made her nervous. She’d kept it to herself too, for the most part. Her family knew, and so did Dianna, but her co-workers and other friends, even Jamie, were still in the dark. She didn’t feel too bad though, for no one on Nick’s side knew a thing. Not even Brian, AJ, Howie, and Kevin.

“I’m saving it for the trip,” he’d told her. “I want it to be a surprise.”

The guys would get their surprise that afternoon, when she and Nick landed in Los Angeles. The five of them were reuniting for five days, during which they would meet with their manager and record label to discuss a new Backstreet Boys album. It had been a year and a half since the last one had been released, and there was no point in planning a tour for that album now. Over the phone, the five guys had decided it was time to just get back in the studio and start fresh. The meetings that week would determine exactly when and how that would happen.

Claire was just along for the ride, but she couldn’t have been more excited. Except for Howie, she hadn’t seen any of the guys in months, and she’d only been to California once, with her family. It would be a lot different going there with Nick, no doubt.

As it turned out, she was right.

When the plane landed, they were met by a couple of bodyguards and taken to a large, silver Escalade. Claire climbed into the backseat of the luxury SUV with Nick and watched out the tinted windows in awe as they drove away from the bustling LAX. Freeways that swarmed with honking cars eventually turned to quiet suburban streets lined on both sides with sprawling mansions.

“This is Kevin’s place?” Claire asked, when the SUV stopped at one of the houses.

“This is it,” replied Nick, throwing his door open. Claire could tell he was excited; he’d missed the guys more than he had let on. She opened her door as well and climbed out, meeting up with Nick at the front of the Escalade. He gave her a quick smile and reached for her hand before walking the rest of the way to the front door. The door swung open before either one of them had a chance to knock, and they were greeted not by Kevin, but- “Baylee! Hey, bud!” Nick exclaimed in surprise, looking down at the two-and-a-half-year-old, who had managed to get the door open himself.

Instantly, Brian appeared behind his son. “Hey guys!” he said with a Kentucky drawl and a wide smile. “We guessed right, Bay – it’s Nick and Claire! Remember them?”

Baylee nodded obediently, no sign of recognition on his innocent face, which bore a striking resemblance to Brian.

“Gosh, I can’t believe how big he’s gotten,” Claire said, shaking her head. It was amazing how fast kids grew, especially at that age.

“Oh, don’t I know it,” replied Brian with the proud grin of a father. “Well, don’t y’all just stand out there, come on inside.” He stepped back and moved Baylee out of the way so that they could enter the house. Brian gave Nick a big brotherly hug, slapping his back warmly, and then hugged Claire as well. “You both look great,” he said as he led them further into the foyer. “Come on this way, the rest of the fellas are hanging out in the living room. Howie got here about half an hour before you did, and J’s here, and Kev-“

Just as he said the name, Kevin appeared in the doorway that led to what Claire supposed was the living room. “Hey, there y’all are,” he said with a smile and came over to hug them both, as Brian had. “I’m glad you could come out with Nick,” he said to Claire as he hugged her lightly.

“Hey, me too. I appreciate the invite,” she replied. “Your house is beautiful, by the way.”

“Thank you. I’ll give ya the grand tour in a little bit, if you want. The rest of the gang’s in here, so come on in.” He led the way into the living room, which was already crowded with people. Baylee had run back into the room and was now sitting on a large couch beside his mother, Leighanne. AJ and his girlfriend Mary occupied the loveseat, and Howie and Kevin’s wife Kristin sat in armchairs. Hugs and hellos were circulated, while Kevin, suddenly realizing there were not enough places for everyone to sit, scrambled for more chairs.

“Nick, take a seat,” directed Kevin, pointing to one of the lush recliners as he sat down on one of the hard-backed chairs he’d dragged in from the kitchen. Claire saw Nick glance from Kevin to the recliner, which Kevin must have been sitting in before. She recognized the expression on his face as he realized Kevin was giving up his seat for him and expected him to protest. His mouth opened as he started to say something, but then he stopped, shrugged, and walked over to the recliner.

Kristin, who was sitting in a matching upholstered chair, sprang up instantly and said, “Claire, sit here.”

“Oh, I’m fine over-“ Claire started to say, but Kristin had already walked over to sit next to her husband on the other kitchen chair. Claire sank down into the upholstered chair beside Nick. As she straightened her shirt and reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her left ear, Leighanne gasped.

“What’s on your hand?” she demanded, sliding off the sofa and slinking over for a closer look. Unable to conceal her grin, Claire held out her left hand, the diamond on her ring sparkling as it caught the light. She heard the gasps of surprise go around the room, and then all eyes shifted to Nick, who sat with a big goofy grin on his face.

“Wow… congratulations!” Brian was the first to say. “Nick – when’d you pop the question?”

“On our six month anniversary,” Nick answered, an adorable blush tinting his cheeks. “July 1.”

Brian’s mouth fell open comically. “A month ago?? And you didn’t tell us??” He pretended to look hurt.

Nick chuckled and exchanged glances with Claire. “We wanted to surprise you,” he explained.

“Well, you definitely did, Nicky! Congratulations, you two,” said Howie with a bright smile. The others echoed him, and of course Kristin and Mary had to come up alongside Leighanne to admire Claire’s ring.

“It’s beautiful,” Leighanne said. “I love the yellow.” She held out her left hand to show Claire her own canary yellow diamond ring.

“Our boys have good taste,” Claire agreed, shooting Nick a smile. “Nick certainly knows his stuff.” Nick smiled back, looking pleased.

“Oh, Kaos knows a lot about the ice,” said AJ. “But if you want a real jewelry expert… you know who to come to, baby.” He winked, and Claire smirked.

“Thanks, J, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Conversation flowed easily as everyone caught up with each other. AJ and Mary had spent the summer traveling, while Kevin and Kristin had stayed in the area, doing various home improvement projects. Howie had been writing songs and working for his charity, and Brian and Leighanne had had their hands full with Baylee.

“He’s cute, ain’t he?” Nick asked later that night, as he and Claire were driving to their hotel.

“Who?”

“Baylee. He’s a cute kid.”

“Yeah, he is,” Claire agreed with a smile. Brian’s son had entertained them all at Kevin’s house earlier. Once he warmed up to people, he was just like Brian – a goofball, and a little ham, ready to steal the show with his antics. He was adorable.

“Bri and Leigh are lucky,” Nick said, after a moment’s silence. Claire didn’t answer right away. Instead, she looked over at him. His expression was unreadable in the dark interior of the car, but she was sure there had been a wistful tone to his voice.

“Yes, they are,” she replied softly, as her mind raced. What had he meant by that? ‘Bri and Leigh are lucky’ – just that? Or ‘Bri and Leigh are lucky’ – I’m jealous? ‘Bri and Leigh are lucky’ – because they can have children, and we can’t? Maybe she was reading too much into a simple statement. Or maybe she wasn’t.

They’d only really talked about having children once… the time she had told him she couldn’t have children. He had seemed okay with it then, but they were engaged now, and things were different. Maybe having children – or not having them - hadn’t been an issue two months ago, but now that they were getting married, it was. It had to be. They would have to talk about it again, and soon. If, deep down, he’d always had his heart set on having children of his own, she needed to know.

He needs to know too, she told herself. He needs to know the whole story. She cleared her throat. “Hey, Nick? Can we talk, when we get checked into our room?”

Now it was his turn to look over at her. “That doesn’t sound good,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized with a quick laugh, realizing she’d asked that question way too gravely. “It’s nothing bad. There’s just something I think we should talk about, when you feel like it. If you don’t want to tonight, we-“

“No, no, we can talk tonight,” Nick assured her quickly. “I wanna hear what’s on your mind.”

Claire nodded and smiled slightly in relief. Good, she thought. I want to hear what’s on your mind too.

***


AN: Want to see a picture of the engagement ring? Go here: http://www.dreamers-sanctuary.com/bmsncwedding.html

Chapter 38

Nick perched on the edge of the large hotel bed, waiting for Claire to get done exploring their suite and come back into the bedroom to talk to him. He had to admit, he was a little nervous. It’s nothing bad, she’d assured him, but she had sounded serious when she’d asked if they could talk.

“This place is amazing,” Claire said, coming into the bedroom with a look of awe on her face.

Nick patted an empty spot next to him on the bed. “C’mere. Let’s talk.”

Claire nodded and sat down beside him. “Okay. Look… when we were talking about Baylee in the car, and how lucky Brian and Leighanne are, it made me think. We’re getting married, Nick. We need to talk about the ‘having kids’ thing again. And we need to be perfectly honest with each other, lay everything out on the table.”

Nick almost laughed at the seriousness in her eyes. She looked so worried… as if he was suddenly going to tell her he just couldn’t marry her because she couldn’t give him children. The very notion of that was ridiculous. “Claire,” he started, “I already told you how I feel about that. Having kids is not the most important thing to me. You are.”

A hint of a smile appeared on her lips. “I know that’s what you told me before,” she said, “but in the car, you sounded… I don’t know… almost sad, I guess. Like you wished you could be like Brian and have a son of our own. And we both know I can’t give that to you…” She trailed off, her eyes shifting downward.

“Hey, hey,” he said, taking hold of her chin and gently lifting it towards him so that he could see her eyes again. “I know. And it doesn’t matter, okay? It doesn’t matter if you can’t get pregnant; we can always adopt if we want kids down the line. All I want right now is you.” He was still cupping her chin, so he leaned in and guided her face towards his for a kiss. He recoiled in surprise when she wrenched her face out of his grasp. Ouch. “What’s wrong?” he asked her, hurt.

Claire bit her lip, something she always did when she was nervous or upset. “I’m sorry… but there’s something else I need to tell you.”

Nick frowned. “Okay… what is it?”

“When I first told you I was sterile, there’s something I left out. I’m never going to be able to get pregnant naturally… but that doesn’t necessarily mean I can’t get pregnant.”

Nick raised his eyebrows, and it seemed like everything else inside him lifted with them. “You mean you could get pregnant?” he asked, his voice high with hope. “How? You mean with some kind of fertility drugs or that u-vitro fertilization thing or-“

“In-vitro fertilization, yeah,” she answered. “That’s when they implant fertilized eggs back into your body, and if it works, you get pregnant.”

“Right…” Nick nodded; that sounded simple enough. “So what’s the catch?” There had to be a catch; otherwise she would sound happy, right? After all, this was a good thing, wasn’t it?

Claire sighed. “Before my leukemia relapsed, I was still fertile. But when that happened, my oncologist told me that more chemo would probably make me sterile. She referred me to an OB/GYN, who explained all about the option of in-vitro fertilization, how they could harvest my eggs, freeze them, and store them so that I could use them to get pregnant later.”

Nick nodded his understanding. “So you have eggs frozen somewhere that you can use someday?”

“Yes,” said Claire, “but here’s the thing - they only like to freeze fertilized eggs because they’ve been shown to work a lot better, as far as getting pregnant goes, so…”

“So your frozen eggs are already fertilized?” finished Nick, thinking for a moment. “You mean with-?”

“Donor sperm.”

Nick didn’t even notice that they were finishing each other’s sentences. He was too busy staring at Claire, as the reality of her words sunk in. “So you’re telling me you can get pregnant… but not by me.”

Claire nodded slowly. “Basically.”

“Oh.” Nick wasn’t sure why he felt so disappointed… the fact that this option existed was a good thing, wasn’t it? It meant that there was a chance Claire could have children of her own after all. But not his children. Someone else’s children. “So do you know who the donor is?” he asked. “Just wondering.”

Claire got a funny look on her face. “Yeah… about that…” she started slowly, twisting her hands in her lap. Frowning, he waited for her to continue. “Most single women that have this done choose an anonymous sperm donor… which is what I was going to do, but… one of my guy friends offered to donate. And I let him.”

“One of your guy friends?” Nick repeated, narrowing his eyes as a sneaking suspicion came over him. “Anyone I know?”

Claire closed her eyes and took a breath. “Jamie.”

Nick’s shoulders slumped as he heard the worst possibility confirmed. Jamie. He began to grow angry as he heard the name echoing in his head; it was a name that never failed to invoke feelings of inferiority and resentment within him, though he wasn’t quite sure why. He was engaged to Claire, not Jamie, and yet…

How could she??

“So let me get this straight,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “You had your ex-boyfriend donate his sperm to you.”

“I told you, he offered,” Claire replied immediately. “What was I supposed to do? Say, ‘No thanks, Jamie, your sperm’s not good enough, I’d rather get it from some random guy I don’t know’?”

“How about ‘no thanks, Jamie, it would be too weird because you’re my ex-boyfriend’? Did you think of that one??”

Claire sighed. “I know, Nick. I did think of that… but… I dunno, I guess I thought it would be okay… ex-boyfriend or not, he’s still my friend.”

“Yeah, and someday he might be the father of your children, even when you’re married to someone else – me! You don’t think that’s a little weird?”

“He won’t be though… We talked about it, Nick; we had to sign an agreement. He did this for me with no strings attached. We weren’t together when it happened; we hadn’t been for five years. He wanted to do this for me because he’s my friend, and he felt bad. He understands just as well as I do that if I ever use the eggs to get pregnant, he won’t have any responsibility toward the children.”

Nick shook his head. “And you expect him to be able to look at a child of yours, knowing full well that he’s its father, and not feel anything?” he asked, his voice laden with skepticism.

“Ours, Nick… it would be ours. Yours and mine. Not Jamie’s.”

“But-“

“The biology of it doesn’t matter,” Claire interrupted. “If we adopted a child, it wouldn’t be biologically yours either, Nick. Would that bother you too?”

Nick sighed. This wasn’t fair. She was tiptoeing around the point here. “No,” he answered firmly, “but that’s different. I probably wouldn’t know the father. And even if I did, he sure as hell wouldn’t be one of your ex-boyfriends.”

“Could you stop calling him my ex-boyfriend? That was in high school, alright? We were friends before we dated, and we’ve been friends since we broke up seven years ago. He’s not just my ex-boyfriend. He’s one of my best friends, and it bothers me that you don’t like him.”

“I hardly know him, Claire,” Nick replied irritably, annoyed at the fact that she could tell he didn’t like Jamie. “And this isn’t about him personally. It’s about you letting your old boyfriend give you his sperm.”

“Yeah, I get it, okay? It was probably a stupid thing to do, but I had my reasons,” Claire muttered, looking away from him. “Somehow I knew you weren’t going to take this well, and that’s why I didn’t tell you this before. But it doesn’t matter now… it’s just an option, and we definitely don’t have to use it. I just wanted you to know.”

Nick shook his head; what was he supposed to say? Thanks? “Well, I guess I’m glad you told me,” he said flatly and sighed again, unable to hide his annoyance with her.

She didn’t say anything else, and neither did he. For what seemed like a long time, they just sat in silence, side by side, yet isolated by the distance between them. They stared into space in opposite directions, each lost in their own tumultuous thoughts.

Finally, she spoke. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice small and meek.

He only gave a short nod in reply, his worries not yet put to rest by her hushed words. The bed jostled beneath him as she stood up, and he watched as she walked into the bathroom and shut the door with a click. He heard the sounds of her rustling around inside the room and water running and figured she was getting ready for bed. He stood as well and walked out of the bedroom, letting the door shut softly behind him. Wandering into the main room of the suite, he sank down onto the couch and picked up the remote. No use trying to go to bed now. He knew he wouldn’t sleep.

It was going to be a long night.

***

As she lay flat on her back in bed, staring up at the ceiling above her, Claire let out a long sigh. It’s going to be a long night, she thought.

She’d been lying there for half an hour already, but sleep seemed hours away. There was no way she could sleep now, upset as she was by the conversation she’d just had with Nick. Truthfully, she wasn’t surprised by his reaction – in a way, she had expected it. But that didn’t stop it from hurting.

She rolled onto her side and clutched a fistful of pillow, squeezing hard.

Sure, she had hoped he would take the news well, that he would see things from her perspective and be glad that she still had the option to carry a child someday. But she wasn’t naïve. She knew that Nick wasn’t a big fan of Jamie, and she figured he wouldn’t exactly celebrate when he found out Jamie had volunteered to be her sperm donor. That was why she had waited so long to tell him.

And really, who could blame him? As much as she hated having him upset with her, she certainly understood why he was. But there was nothing she could do to fix it now. There was no going back… although if she could, maybe she would.

I get it, okay? It was probably a stupid thing to do, but I had my reasons, she heard herself saying.

I had my reasons…

In her mind, she traveled back to that time, almost three years ago. She could still recall vividly sitting in the kitchen of Dianna’s apartment, sipping cocoa and tugging at her hair, hair that she knew would probably be gone in a matter of months, as she mulled over the decision she had to make.

“I think you should just go with it, Claire,” she remembered Dianna saying. “Jamie wants to do this for you. Why not let him? He’s been one of your best friends since we were in high school.”

“I know… but I don’t want him to do this because he feels sorry for me. And I don’t want things to get weird between us… weirder than they already have been since we broke up.”

“It’s not that he feels sorry for you. Personally, I think he’s mad at himself, for not being there for you the first time. But that’s only part of it. He cares about you, Claire; he wouldn’t have offered to do this if he didn’t.”

“Well, I care about him too. You know I still love him… but not the way I used to. That’s why I’m so unsure about this.”

“What’s love got to do with it? It’s not like you two are going to have a baby together, Claire. He would just be giving you the means to have a baby someday, when you’re ready. By then you’ll have some guy you do love to be that baby’s daddy. It won’t be Jamie. Using him would be just like using any other sperm donor… only with him, you know what you’re getting. And that’s a good thing, if you ask me. Jamie’s smart, he’s athletic, he’s a nice guy… and he’s attractive too, if you don’t mind me saying so. The curly hair… those blue eyes… Good genes, Claire. Think about it. You’d be doing your baby a favor.”

They’d both laughed. And Claire had thought about it, long and hard. And in the end, she’d taken Dianna’s advice and used Jamie’s sperm. It had seemed like a good decision at the time. It made her happy, to have been given a “Plan B,” something to fall back on, a way to bear a child later on if the upcoming cancer treatments made her infertile, as her oncologist said they probably would. It had made Jamie happy too, to be able to give her that option.

But now she was not so sure. Because it certainly hadn’t made Nick very happy, and he was the one who mattered most to her now. Maybe she should have just gone with a random donor. Then there would be no argument. She would have done what she had to do, given the circumstances. It wouldn’t change the fact that she and Nick could never conceive a child together. But it would change the possibility of having a child that was biologically Jamie’s.

She supposed she could have just kept the whole thing from Nick. Or lied and said she had used an anonymous donor. But neither would have felt right. She was glad she had told him… he had a right to know. Even if he was mad at her for what she had done, she didn’t regret telling him. She just hoped that when morning came and he’d had a chance to think, he would come around. They had been through too much to let this come between them.

***

Nick woke up with a horrible crick in his neck and found himself stretched out in an awkward position on the couch, where he’d evidently fallen asleep the night before. No pillow, no blanket, but at least he’d taken his leg off and plugged it into its charger for the night. As he sat up, massaging the side of his neck, he heard the bedroom door open. A moment later, Claire appeared. She had clearly just woken up too – she was still bleary-eyed, and her hair was sticking up and out in funny angles.

“Morning,” she greeted him in a low voice, wrapping her arms around herself and looking uncomfortable.

“Morning,” he echoed, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Sleep okay?”

She shrugged. “I guess. How about you? Did you sleep there?”

He nodded. “Wasn’t too comfortable,” he confessed, rubbing his neck again.

“Doesn’t look like it,” she said, shaking her head. “Weren’t you cold? The air is cranked in here. I’m freezing.” She hugged herself tighter and shifted her weight, crossing one leg behind the other.

Nick just shrugged.

“Well, I’m getting back into bed, where it’s warm,” she said after a moment. “Are you coming?”

He met her eyes and realized she wanted him too. She wanted to make up. Though he was still not thrilled about the bombshell she’d dropped on him the night before, he had to admit, so did he. He hated fighting with her. Nodding, he twisted his body around and got up from the couch. He caught his balance on one leg and hopped after her as she led the way back into the bedroom of the hotel suite. They collapsed into bed together, burrowing beneath the warm layer of covers.

“This is so much more comfortable,” he sighed as his head landed on a soft pillow. “That damn couch did a number on my neck.”

“I’m really sorry, Nick.” Nick wasn’t really sure what she was sorry for – that he had slept on the couch? Or that she had let Jamie donate sperm to her? The way she sounded, maybe she was apologizing for it all.

He sighed. “You don’t have to be sorry, Claire. What’s done is done.”

“You’re not mad at me?” There was a note of uncertainty in her voice that matched the uncertainty inside him. Was he mad at her? No. He still wasn’t happy about what he had found out… but he wasn’t mad at her.

“No,” he told her honestly. “I’m not mad at you, Claire. I’m just…” He sighed in frustration, searching for the right words to express what he was feeling. “I don’t know… disappointed, I guess. Not in you though… I just hate this whole situation.”

“I know. I hate it too. I wish we could be like other couples – get married, have kids, simple as that. But it’s not gonna be that easy for us.”

Nick snorted. “Since when has anything been easy for us?”

Claire didn’t answer, and at least a minute passed without either of them speaking. Finally, Claire said, “Listen, I didn’t mean for us to start the day off with some deep, serious conversation. We don’t need to talk about this now – the children thing, I mean. We can bring it up again later, when the time’s right. I just want you to know though – if we ever do decide we want to become parents, we’ll choose whatever option will work best for both of us. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or to have you resent me for the choices I’ve made. I just wanted to tell you about that. It seemed wrong not to.”

Nick nodded. “I understand. And Claire… I don’t resent you for any choices you’ve made. You did what felt right to you at the time, and I can’t blame you for that. I was just upset last night, but I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that.”

Claire shook her head. “No… I understand. Believe me, I understand. I can’t blame you for being upset either. Like we said before, this whole situation just sucks.”

Nodding again, Nick let out another sigh. There was really only one culprit they could blame for all this grief, and that was the disease they had been battling together for over two years. Even though the cancer had been driven out of their bodies, remnants of it would always remain - in the scars on their skin… the stump of Nick’s missing leg… and their inability to conceive a child. They were like veterans of a war now, and try as they might to escape it, their battle wounds would never fully heal.

Nick had realized this before, and as his hand drifted down to touch the taut skin of his stump beneath the covers, it became clear to him once again. He was going to have to accept this, just like he had come to accept the amputation… just like Claire had accepted it. They both had suffered at the hand of cancer; the disease had taken things from both of them that they could never get back. But through it all, they had found each other. And as far as Nick was concerned, there was nothing that could separate them now.

Not even Jamie Turner.

***

There were other things on Nick’s mind by the time lunch rolled around. He’d left Claire at the hotel for the afternoon with the promise to take her sight-seeing later while he’d gone to join his bandmates, their manager, and several big-wigs from their record label for a lunch meeting. Sitting around a large table in one of the VIP rooms of an upscale LA restaurant, Nick had found his thoughts shifting from his future with Claire to his future with the Backstreet Boys. The group was unanimous on wanting to record another album. Now they were discussing the specifics – mainly when they would start recording and what they would record.

“There have been some major changes since your last album was released,” one of the label execs was saying. “Music has changed, for one thing. The ‘boy band’ era has been over for years. Your 2004 release put up some good numbers, but it didn’t do nearly as well as Black and Blue or Millennium. If you want this new album to succeed on the charts, you’re going to have to continue to reinvent yourselves and try to incorporate some of the new sounds and styles that are out there right now.”

They’d heard this speech time and time again. Nick knew it made some of the others nervous, but he personally didn’t care. Boybands were out – rock on. He’d be glad to leave behind the poppy love ballads they’d become famous for and explore other genres of music, like rock. Standing behind a mic stand with his guitar or beating the hell out of his drums sounded a lot more feasible now than busting a move from the “Everybody” dance anyway.

“And of course, you all have grown and changed since the last album as well,” the exec continued, and Nick noticed the flickering of eyes as everyone glanced at him. Self-conscious, he felt a warm blush began to creep up his neck just as he heard his name. “Nick – you might consider using this album as a chance to reflect on what you’ve been through in the past couple of years and express your feelings on that by writing some songs. I’m sure the fans will expect your ordeal to manifest itself in the music on this new album.”

Nick nodded in agreement, wondering how on earth he was going to be expected to write songs about having cancer and losing his leg that people would actually enjoy listening to.

“So let’s try to plan out a tentative time frame. When would you like to start work on the album?”

Nick listened as months and dates were thrown around. After some discussion, they decided to get together again in October, two months from then, to start working on material for the album. They’d do some writing, individually and as a group, and meet with other songwriters. Once they had something to go off of, they would get back into the studio. If all went well, the album could be out as early as the following summer.

It seemed a long way off, but Nick knew he’d have plenty to keep him busy. He and Claire hadn’t even discussed wedding dates yet, but he had a feeling he was in for a year of wedding planning, in addition to working on the album. He had no complaints though. He’d be surrounded by his two greatest loves – music and Claire. If all went as planned, the next year would be a good one.

It was funny, though, how things rarely worked out the way he’d planned.

***

Chapter 39

The following night, Kevin and Kristin invited everyone over to their house for dinner. Kevin worked the grill while the women chatted and AJ, Howie, and Brian hung out in the luminescent in-ground pool. “Are you comin’ in, Nick?” asked Brian, who was sliding a pair of inflatable water wings onto Baylee so he could get in the pool too.

Nick looked up from his spot at the edge of the pool, where he sat sideways, one leg dangling in the water while his artificial one stretched out in front of him. “Nah, I don’t think so,” he answered Brian. He didn’t really feel like wearing swim trunks, not with everyone around. As much as he didn’t like to admit it, he was still somewhat self-conscious about his body… the ugly scar that wrapped around the left side of his chest, and of course, his leg. Some of them – especially Claire, AJ, and Howie – were used to seeing it, but he still felt awkward and slightly uncomfortable around the others.

“Okay,” Brian said, and for awhile, Nick thought he would let it drop. But after dinner, when the women were inside cleaning up, and AJ, Howie, and Kevin had gotten back into the pool, Brian pulled Nick aside. “Hey, I wanted to ask you… you’re not embarrassed to go swimming in front of everyone or anything, are you?”

Nick felt himself starting to blush as he realized Brian had hit the nail on the head. Knowing his best friend could read him like a book in situations like this, Nick had no choice but to shrug and grudgingly admit, “I dunno… maybe a little.”

Shaking his head, Brian put a hand on Nick’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I figured as much. I’m not tryin’ to lecture you, but… you know you really shouldn’t be, bro, not in front of us. No one here cares about your leg.”

“I know,” Nick said with a nod, “but…” He shrugged. “I still feel kind of awkward sometimes. I know it’s stupid, but-“

“It’s not stupid,” Brian interrupted him. “I understand. Believe me, I do. I felt kind of self-conscious about this thing at first too.” He ran a finger down the thin scar in the center of his bare chest, a souvenir of his open-heart surgery.

Nick looked at him in surprise. “Really? I don’t even notice your scar anymore, B.”

“There, you just proved my point,” said Brian with a grin. “We don’t notice your leg is missing anymore either. We’re all used to seeing you the way you are. So don’t worry about what any of us are going to think. You should get in the pool if you want to; I don’t want you to be left out. Did you bring trunks, or-“

“They’re in the car,” Nick answered, looking away sheepishly. Kevin had told them all to bring swimsuits, and his was packed in a bag with Claire’s, lying on the backseat of their rental.

“Go get ‘em then. And tell those women to get theirs too. Talk about being self-conscious - Leigh still complains that she has leftover baby weight. You’re not the only one who doesn’t want to be seen in a bathing suit.” Brian flashed him a quick wink.

Nick chuckled. “Okay.” As he passed through the kitchen, he leaned into Claire and said, “I’m getting our swimsuits from the car, and you’re coming in the pool with me.”

“Oh, am I?” replied Claire as she turned around, one eyebrow raised.

“Yes.” He kept walking, not giving her a chance to argue. He got the bag with their suits and changed into his trunks in one of the bathrooms, leaving his prosthesis on until he got out to the pool.

“You comin’ in, Nick?” called Kevin as Nick sat down at the edge of the pool.

“Yeah, in a minute,” Nick replied, pushing up the left leg of his swim trunks so that he could take off his artificial leg.

“Hey, Nick?” a voice yelled, and Nick stopped and looked up to see Claire leaning out the sliding glass door. “Where did you put my suit?”

“Oh, sorry, it’s in the foyer.”

“Thanks.” She ducked back inside, and a moment later, Leighanne appeared, Baylee at her side.

“Are you gonna swim, honey?” Brian bellowed from the pool when he saw his wife.

“I guess so. Will you watch him while I change?” Leighanne called back, laying a hand on her son’s head.

“Sure!” Brian climbed out of the pool and walked past Nick to get Baylee.

“Go simming?” Nick heard the toddler ask.

“Sure you can go swimming again. We just gotta put your water wings on first, little man,” Brian replied, taking Baylee’s hand. “Nick’s gonna come swimming with us too,” he added, as he led Baylee past Nick to where they had left his water wings earlier.

“You gonna show me some cool tricks in the water, kiddo?” Nick asked as Baylee walked past. Baylee just stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. Nick chuckled, knowing better than to take it personally by now. Little kids were just funny like that.

He went back to work on his leg, releasing the valve that kept it suctioned to his stump and pulling it off. Setting the prosthesis aside, he stood up and got his balance before bending down to pick up the artificial leg so that he could move it away from the water. He was startled when Baylee suddenly burst into tears. Whipping his head in the direction of the screaming sobs, Nick found Baylee red-faced and wailing… and looking right at him. Immediately, the toddler’s sobs elevated, and he turned away, twisting his whole body around so that his back was to Nick, much to the exasperation of Brian, who was trying to cram on his second water wing.

Nick was bewildered at first. Then he glanced down, at the robotic-looking leg in his hands and the empty pant leg in his swim shorts, and felt his own face turning red as he realized. Baylee was just scared. Scared of him.

Looking over his shoulder at Nick, Brian must have figured it out at the exact same time. All of a sudden, his expression turned stricken. He opened his mouth as if he were about to say something to Nick, then reached for his son’s shoulder, trying to get him to turn around. Baylee just kept sobbing, and Brian looked completely flustered.

Nick had had enough. Mortified, he hastily jammed the artificial leg back on and limped into the house as fast as he could, desperate to get away from the sound of Baylee’s screaming. He nearly barreled into Claire, who was dressed in her bathing suit and on her way outside.

“What’s wrong??” she asked at once, grabbing his shoulder. He tried to push past her, but she held onto him. “What happened??” she demanded, her eyes wide and worried. “Is that Baylee crying? Is he all right??”

“He’s fine,” Nick muttered quickly. “Just scared.”

“Of what?”

Nick clenched his jaw and looked away. “Of me!” With that, he twisted out of her grip and stormed out of the kitchen. He heard Kristin and Leighanne’s voices coming down the stairs and hurried to get away from them. Ducking into the small half-bath, he closed the door and started to lock it when it was thrust back open, almost hitting him in the face. Without hesitation, Claire breezed in and shut the door again behind her.

“Sit,” she said, pushing him down onto the closed toilet seat. “Now what do you mean, he’s scared of you?”

Nick took a shaky breath, his face burning hot. “I was taking off my leg to get in the pool, and he freaked out. I think I scared him,” he explained miserably.

“Oh…” Her face fell, much as Brian’s had outside. “I’m sorry, Nick… I didn’t think of that. You know it’s not you though… he’s just a kid; he doesn’t know any better. He doesn’t understand. I’m sure Brian’s trying to explain to him right now. You should go back out there.”

“Yeah, and make him start crying again,” Nick mumbled.

“Just go show him. If you show him your leg and let him know that it’s okay, that it’s nothing to be afraid of, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Claire insisted.

Nick was just about to protest when there was a light knock on the door. “Nick, is that you in there?” came Brian’s voice.

Claire opened the door. “Hey,” she said quietly, standing back so Brian could come in.

“Hey, Nick… I’m so sorry about what happened out there,” said Brian, shaking his head apologetically.

“Is he okay?”

“Oh sure, he’s fine! Leigh’s out there talking to him now. Look, I really am sorry… I didn’t expect this. I guess we should have talked to him about you before now, but he’s not even three yet; I didn’t know if he’d understand…”

“It’s okay,” said Nick. “He’s just a little kid; I wouldn’t expect him to understand either. I’m just gonna change back into my clothes… maybe if I’m wearing long pants, and he can’t see it, I won’t freak him out.”

“No, no, you don’t have to do that. Come back out the way you are. I want him to see that it’s okay.”

Nick shook his head uncertainly. “Nah, I don’t want to make him cry again.”

“You’re his godfather, Nick. I want him to get used to this so that he’ll feel comfortable around you. And I don’t want you to have to hide your leg around him. Will you come back outside with me, please?”

Nick sighed, but reluctantly stood up. He followed Brian and Claire back outside, where Leighanne sat in one of the deck chairs, holding Baylee in her lap. The little boy’s cheeks were still tear-stained, but he was perfectly calm again.

Nick sucked in a deep breath. Here goes nothing, he thought as Brian led him over to Baylee.

“Hey, Bay, look,” said Brian. “Here’s Nick. See, he’s fine.”

This time, Baylee did not cry or turn away when he saw Nick. Instead, he whimpered a little and stared, his eyes fixed on Nick’s prosthesis. Nick stood awkwardly, not knowing exactly what to do or say. “Hey kiddo… sorry if I scared ya,” he offered unsurely and looked from Brian to Leighanne, silently asking them what he should do next.

Much to his relief, Leighanne took over. “Look, sweetheart… this is what I was telling you about. Nicky’s other leg was sick, and so he uses this one now so that he can walk. That’s all it is. It looks different, but it’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Baylee just kept staring and didn’t say anything. Nick slowly took a step back and sank down into another deck chair. “Do you wanna see?” he asked Baylee, lightly patting the knee of his prosthesis. “Come here… you can look at if you want.” Baylee hesitated for a moment, then climbed down from Leighanne’s lap and shyly crept towards Nick. “There,” said Nick in relief when Baylee was standing about a foot away. “See, I don’t bite… and neither does my leg.” He offered a smile. The smile was not returned, but Baylee showed no signs of crying either. Still, Nick was cautious. “Do you wanna touch it?” he asked. “You can touch it if you want. It doesn’t hurt, see?” He reached down and drummed the shin of the prosthesis a few times to demonstrate. “Try it.”

Gingerly, Baylee reached out and tapped the same spot Nick had touched. He drew his hand back quickly, waited a moment, and then touched it again, looking more at ease.

“See? Neat, huh?” Nick asked, feeling better. “It’s not like your leg… I can take this one off if I want to, like if I want to go swimming.” He spoke as if having the ability to pop off your leg at will was an advantage.

“Why you take off?” Baylee asked, speaking for the first time.

“It’s not supposed to go in the water… it doesn’t like getting wet, so I have to keep it dry,” Nick explained. “So I take it off to go swimming, just like you take off your shirt.”

“Go simming?” Baylee looked from Nick up to Brian, who smiled.

“Can Nick come swimming with us this time?” Brian asked, and Baylee nodded. Brian winked at Nick over the top of his head. “Problem solved, I think. Let’s try this again.”

Nick waited until Brian had Baylee preoccupied to remove the artificial leg again and then jumped into the pool as quickly as he could. AJ, who had been watched the whole scene play out from the other side of the pool with Howie and Kevin, slid back into the water and swam over to meet Nick. “Well, that was interesting,” he remarked in a low voice, giving Nick a smirk. “You okay, dude?”

“I’m fine,” said Nick sincerely; he was fine now that he knew he hadn’t scarred his godson for life.

“You haven’t been popping that leg off and chasing the kid around with it while we weren’t looking, have you?”

Nick laughed. “And how exactly would I chase him without it on?”

AJ smirked again. “Eh, you got me. I guess not. But hey, when he’s a little older, you oughta tell him you’re part droid or something – the kid’ll idolize you for the rest of his life.”

“Part droid?” Nick snickered. He could always count on AJ to lighten up the tough situations with comments like that.

Out of nowhere, a huge splash catapulted buckets of water at them, drenching them both. Nick spun around to see Claire surfacing from beneath the water, a gleeful smile on her face. “Hey,” she said innocently, swimming up behind him and placing a light kiss on his wet shoulder. “You handled that very well,” she whispered in his ear before circling around to meet AJ and Howie and Kevin, who had just swam across from the other side.

“You know not to take stuff like that personally, right Nick?” asked Kevin, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Nick nodded. “I know. He’s a little kid.”

“Just making sure.” Kevin hit Nick lightly on the back beneath the water. “I know that couldn’t have felt good.”

“Kev does know,” AJ piped up, a wicked grin spreading over his face. “Baylee screamed bloody murder the first time he got a good look at Train’s caterpillars – I mean, eyebrows – too.”

Everyone laughed while Kevin smacked water into AJ’s face and dunked him beneath the surface. AJ came up sputtering, but with a look of victory on his dripping face.

After a few minutes, Brian carried Baylee over, and Leighanne and Kristin joined them. They swam off their dinner without any further incidents, and by the time Leighanne dried off a sleepy Baylee and took him into the house, Nick was exhausted. He boosted himself onto the side of the pool to rest while the others stayed in the water. It was not long before Brian drifted over and climbed up to sit next to him.

“I’m really sorry about Baylee,” he said again.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Nick replied, smiling to let Brian know he was okay. “Everything’s fine now.”

Brian nodded. “I really appreciate you being open with him… I mean, letting him touch your leg and everything. You’re really good with him, you know.”

“I am?” Nick felt a smile creep across his face. “Thanks.”

“I mean it. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again - you’re gonna make a great daddy someday, Nick.”

The smile faded as Nick thought about his conversation with Claire the other night, but he tried not to let it show. Now was not the time or place to be discussing that with Brian. “Thanks, Frick,” he said. “That means a lot.”

“You’re welcome… Frack,” replied Brian, and Nick realized how long it had been since they’d used those nicknames for each other. The duo shared an amused grin before falling into a peaceful silence.

After a few minutes, Brian asked casually, “So, while we’re on the topic of family… any plans to visit yours while you’re out here?”

Nick couldn’t keep from groaning. His family had certainly crossed his mind… his parents had a house in the Los Angeles area where they stayed most of the time, but according to Aaron, whom he talked to on the phone from time to time, it was like a war zone there… Mom and Dad fighting constantly. “I think they’re gonna get a divorce,” Aaron had confessed over the phone one night. He had sounded upset, but Nick found himself not caring too much. If his parents did divorce, it would at least make it easier to see his father and sisters and Aaron. They always asked him to come visit whenever they spoke to him, but he always refused. He hadn’t seen his mother in over a year, and he preferred to keep it that way. “She misses you,” his father would say whenever they talked – which was not often – but Nick couldn’t find much sympathy for her. As far as he was concerned, Jane Carter only missed him when she wanted something or when she was on a guilt trip and feeling bad about all the things she had said and done to him. He didn’t miss her back; he only missed the woman she had once been – his mother.

“I’ll take that as a no?” asked Brian, his lips curving into a sad smile. Nick returned the grim smile, knowing Brian felt sorry for him. Brian was a family man, tried and true – he’d come from a great family, and now he had a family of his own. Nick had not been lucky enough to have the former, but he hoped someday he could have the latter, one way or another.

“I don’t think so,” he replied. “I’d love to see AC and the girls, but as long as Mom’s around, I really don’t feel like dropping by the house. I’ll just have to wait till Aaron goes on tour again or something and catch one of his shows. I don’t think she wants him to fly out to see me.”

“So you aren’t going to take Claire to meet any of them, let them know you two are engaged?”

“Eh… I’m sure they’ll see it on MTV at some point,” Nick shrugged. “I don’t really care, Rok… I’ve told you before, you and the guys and Claire are more like my family than they are. You’re the ones I want at our wedding.”

Brian smiled and nodded. “Of course we’ll be there.”

“I know. You’ve been there through everything.”

Brian flashed Nick a cheesy grin. “What can I say? We love ya, Carter.”

Nick smiled back, thinking how great it was going to be to get back in the studio with these guys in the fall. He enjoyed having time off to live his own life and spend time with other people, he thought as his eyes rested on Claire, who was still messing around in the pool with the others. But when it all came down to it, he missed his work. And more than anything… he missed his brothers.

***

Chapter 40

“Wow, this is old-school,” Nick commented, turning up the volume on the radio until Eminem’s “Cleaning Out My Closet” blared from the Escalade’s speakers.

Claire giggled. “I love how three years ago is ‘old-school’ now.”

“Only three years? Wow…” Nick shook his head; it seemed like so much longer. Then again, he supposed anything from three years ago would seem like ancient history, for that was the “before” time – before he got cancer… before he lost his leg… before Claire was in his life. Though it had only been two-and-a-half years, he could hardly remember a time when he had not worried about his health, living in fear that the cancer would come back… when he had been able to hop right out of bed in the morning and run effortlessly down the stairs… when he had not loved Claire. These last two years had seemed like an eternity and the time before that, a distant past life.

Nick shook his head again, forcing himself to focus on the road in front of him and the music in his ears. “I’m sorry Mama,” he sang along under his breath, “I never meant to hurt you… I never meant to make you cry, but tonight I’m cleaning out my closet…” Suddenly, he stopped, reminded of something. “Brian asked if I was going to take you to meet my family while we were out here,” he said, adding a mirthless chuckle, as if the idea were preposterous.

“Oh, that’s right, your family lives around here, don’t they?” asked Claire.

“Yeah.”

“Well… so are you?”

“No,” was Nick’s flat reply.

Claire was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “I’d like to meet them sometime. I mean, we are getting married…”

“So?”

“So… they’re your family, Nick. They’ll be my in-laws. Aren’t you going to invite them to the wedding?”

Nick just shrugged. He didn’t expect her to understand. Claire came from a good family – she had nice parents and a brother who would do anything for her, and she was very close to all three of them. There was no way she could understand. Deep down, he loved his family, he really did… but fame had ruined the Carters. His parents were still together, but his family had been broken for years – the music business had torn them apart. He hardly ever saw his siblings anymore, he rarely got to talk to his father, and his mother… well, he hadn’t seen nor spoken to her in almost a year and a half. There was no way he wanted her at his wedding.

“I’m sorry,” Claire said softly, when she realized he wasn’t going to answer. “I know about you and your mom. I just thought maybe you’d want to see the others. Your dad and your sisters… and Aaron, I didn’t get to meet him when he was in Tampa last year, remember.”

Nick sighed. “I know…”

“What if you called first, and we went over when your mom wasn’t there?”

Nick shrugged, the wheels in his mind slowly turning. It could work… tomorrow was Sunday, and there were no meetings or anything scheduled, nowhere he had to be. His parents’ house wasn’t too far of a drive from their hotel. If he could just assure that his mother wasn’t going to be there, he could drop by, have a quick visit with the rest of the family, and leave without having to confront her. Hell, he could even pick up the kids and take them out somewhere for awhile… Jane would never even know until it was too late.

“Nick?”

Nick blinked. “Uh… well… yeah, I guess that’s a possibility. You want to?”

“Sure. But only if you do. I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, so if you think it’s going to be too awkward-“

“Oh, it’ll be awkward alright,” said Nick, “but don’t worry about me. I’m more worried about you.”

Claire laughed, a nervous chuckle. “About me? Why?”

Nick shook his head. “You don’t know my family.”

***

Claire nervously smoothed the denim of her jean skirt and checked to make sure it hadn’t twisted the wrong way on her hips. She hated wearing skirts, but she’d wanted to look nice when she met Nick’s family for the first time. He’d assured her there was no need, but she’d insisted on the skirt anyway, pairing it with a simple, fitted, light green top and brown leather sandals. She tapped her toes against the soles of her sandals as Nick reached out and pushed the doorbell. She heard the muffled bell ring inside the large, showy house and looked over at Nick, sucking in a deep breath. Why am I so nervous? she wondered. It was not like her to be this apprehensive about meeting new people, but she supposed this was different. Anyone would be nervous about meeting their future in-laws for the first time, she reasoned. And the way Nick spoke about his family didn’t make things any easier.

At least his mom won’t be here, she thought with relief. Nick had called his brother Aaron earlier that morning from the hotel to find out that Jane had taken his sister Leslie shopping.

“Knowing them, they’ll be gone all day,” Nick had repeated Aaron’s words.

Claire was sorry she wouldn’t be meeting Leslie this time, but she couldn’t help but feel glad that they could drop by without running into Nick’s mother. She’d met Jane Carter once, briefly, over two years ago, when Nick was in the hospital with pneumonia. All she really remembered about the woman was the look she’d received from her – a look of disapproval; that was the only word for it. It was a look that had made her feel awkward and unworthy, as if this woman did not consider her fit to be friends with her son. Who knew what she would think now, two years later, when she found out they were engaged.

According to Nick, it didn’t matter, and that thought brought her some comfort, though she couldn’t help but feel sorry that he and his mom were so estranged. She’d always thought it was horrible that he’d gone through so much on his own, without the support of his family. Then again, their situation was complicated, and even she did not fully understand it. Nick didn’t like to talk about it. She was actually surprised she’d gotten him to agree to this visit.

Even he seemed a little edgy, she realized, noticing the way he kept licking his lips and running his hand over his hair as they waited for someone to come to the door. She didn’t really blame him, considering he hadn’t seen much of his family in the past year.

Impatient, Nick reached out and punched the doorbell again, then dropped his hand to his side, jamming his fingers through the hammer loop on the side of his cargo shorts. The shorts were an interesting choice, Claire thought. Nick wore shorts all the time around the house, but never in public, not even in the sticky Florida heat. These shorts were baggy and long, but did not hide his artificial leg. She wondered if he’d worn them on purpose, for that very reason, but she hadn’t asked. Maybe he wanted to be upfront with his family about it; maybe he just didn’t care anymore. Either way, it wasn’t really her business.

They heard footsteps inside the house at the same time, and Nick reached for her hand just as the front door flew open. There stood a lanky, blonde teenager she recognized as Aaron Carter. She’d seen pictures and video clips of him before, both at Nick’s house and on TV, but he was a lot taller and more mature-looking than she’d expected. A wide grin stretched across his thin face, lighting up a pair of large, dark brown eyes, and he exclaimed a short, “Hey!” before practically pouncing on Nick, pulling his older brother into a big hug. Nick’s hand was torn out of Claire’s, but she simply smiled and stepped back, letting the two brothers have their moment. It was obvious Aaron had missed Nick, and she knew Nick had missed Aaron too. Seeing them hug like that made her glad she and Nick had come.

“How’s it goin’, bro?” Aaron asked as he pulled his face out of Nick’s neck and stepped back.

“It’s goin’ good,” Nick responded with a nod and a smile in Claire’s direction. “Aaron, I want you to meet Claire Ryan. Claire, my little brother Aaron.”

“Good to meet ya,” said Aaron in a friendly voice, offering Claire his hand and a smile. He didn’t look that much like Nick, although you could tell they were brothers. But when he spoke, his voice sounded just like Nick’s, and he had all the same mannerisms too.

Cute, she thought, returning his smile. “You too,” she replied with sincerity and shook his hand warmly. “I was out of town last time you visited Nick in Florida, so I’m glad I get to finally meet you.”

Aaron nodded and stepped back inside, holding the door open for them to come in. “Angel’s in her room, probably doing her hair or something, and dad’s out back cleaning the pool,” Aaron explained as he followed them into a large foyer, closing the door behind him.

“Did you tell them we were coming?” asked Nick, while Claire looked around. The interior of the house was richly-decorated, although slightly cluttered. You could tell a family lived there – shoes were heaped in a pile near the door, a stray t-shirt had been draped over the back of a chair, and the tiled floor seemed to be strewn with a fine layer of sand that gritted beneath Claire’s sandals. Strains of muffled rock music drifted from the back of the house, and the familiar smell of dog permeated the air.

“Yeah, they know. Probably just no one heard the doorbell. I’ll go get ‘em.” He trotted off, leaving Nick and Claire standing alone in the foyer.

“Come on, let’s go sit down,” said Nick, taking Claire’s hand once again and leading her into the living room. “Sorry for the mess,” he added apologetically, making a face as he looked around the room. Claire followed his line of sight and noticed the disorderly spread of magazines and tabloids on the coffee table, the empty glasses and soda cans that occupied nearly every surface, the dog hair clinging to the furniture…

“Not your mess,” she replied with a shrug.

“Guess their cleaning lady hasn’t been by in awhile.” She could tell he was embarrassed and thought it was sort of funny. After the way he’d gone on about how awkward this visit was going to be and how she didn’t know his family – making it sound as if she didn’t want to know his family – he seemed to be more concerned about the dirty house than his family members themselves.

“It’s okay,” she said with a chuckle. She wasn’t the neatest person in the world either – and ironically enough, neither was he. Nothing to be worried about; a little mess wasn’t going to scare her away. “Aaron sounds just like you, you know,” she commented as she took a seat on the sofa, trying to change to subject. “Does he sound like you when he sings too?”

Nick smiled in a proud big brother sort of way. “Yeah, he’s starting to, now that his voice has changed. The kid’s got talent.”

“You’ll have to play some of his stuff for me when we get home,” she said, realizing she didn’t really know any Aaron Carter songs. She vaguely remembered flipping past some of his music videos on Nickelodeon or Disney, one of those channels, but she’d never actually listened to any of his music. Cheesy bubblegum pop or not, she supposed she should give it a chance, now that he was going to be her brother-in-law…

Aaron returned with his father and sister in tow, and Claire sat up straighter, anxious to meet them. Mr. Carter was tall, with bleached blonde hair and tan, weathered skin. He only glanced at Claire briefly before shifting his eyes to Nick. “Nick… hi,” he said, looking as if he wanted to say so much more.

“Hey, Dad,” replied Nick and stood up. He crossed the living room to meet his father, and the two men hugged tightly. When Bob Carter released his son, he looked him up and down, his eyes lingering on Nick’s silver prosthetic leg. He opened his mouth, closed it again, looked up, and then asked, “How are you doing, son?” Standard small talk, but Claire knew it meant so much more than that.

“Good,” was all Nick said, but the meaningful nod that accompanied his response made that one word give Bob all the answers he was looking for.

“I’m glad you decided to drop by. We have a lot to catch up on.”

Nick nodded again and glanced at Claire. “Dad, this is my girlfriend, Claire Ryan.”

Claire rose to her feet and accepted Bob’s outstretched hand. “Bob Carter,” he introduced himself as he shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Claire echoed. Then she looked past Bob and Nick to the girl she had assumed to be Angel, who hung back in the threshold of the room with Aaron.

“Hey, Ang,” Nick said simply, holding out his arms in anticipation of a hug. Seeming almost reluctant, Angel finally came forward and hugged Nick gingerly. He pulled her close to him, wrapping her slender frame into a tight, brotherly hug. “It’s been awhile, huh kid?” he said as he let her go.

Angel smiled wryly. “You can say that again,” she replied, her eyes taking the familiar plunge to his artificial leg. It was sort of amusing, the way everyone did that when they saw Nick for the first time since the amputation. Claire had noticed it, and no doubt Nick had too. She wondered if it annoyed him. Probably a little, but she figured he was used to it by now. After all, it was human nature.

Nick introduced Claire and Angel, and the two of them exchanged the standard “hello”s and “nice to meet you”s. Nick’s youngest sister was beautiful, with a model’s figure and a long mane of shiny, dark hair that distinguished her from her blonde brothers. She had the same brown eyes as Aaron, but while Aaron’s were filled with joy at seeing his brother, Angel’s looked troubled.

“So how ya been?” Nick asked his sister.

Angel hesitated before answering and then shook her head. “Can we not do this, please?” she demanded.

“Do what?”

The teenager rolled her eyes. “Make stupid small talk. Pretend it hasn’t been, like, a year since we’ve seen each other. Pretend nothing major has happened in that year. I mean, seriously!”

Well said, thought Claire, smiling in her direction. But Angel’s dark eyes were fixed on her older brother, her forehead creased with frown lines, her jaw set.

Nick chuckled. “Yeah… sorry. You’re right. There’s no point in pretending.”

An awkward silence fell over the estranged family, and suddenly, Claire felt very out of place, as if she did not belong there. What had she been thinking, coming with Nick to visit his family? She knew he hadn’t seen most of them since his last falling out with his mother, in the few days right before he lost his leg. They had a lot to talk about, a lot to come to terms with. Nick’s fiancée or not, this was none of her business.

“Come on, kids, let’s, uh… let’s all sit down, okay?” Bob spoke up, taking a seat in an overstuffed chair. Angel reluctantly took another chair, while Aaron simply plopped down on the lush carpet, stretching his long legs out in front of him. Nick returned to the couch, bringing Claire with him.

“I don’t know if I should be here,” she whispered to him as they sat down side by side.

“You’re fine,” he murmured quickly, covering her hand with his and lacing his fingers through hers.

Once everyone was situated, the silence returned. The tension that had filled the room felt thick enough to cut with a knife, and it seemed no one knew quite what to say or do. It was driving Claire nuts, but she kept her mouth shut and waited for someone else to speak first. She was staying out of this one.

***

Chapter 41


AN: HUGE thanks to Kaz for helping me out with this chapter and listening to me rant so early in the morning! =P Big thanks to Bianca for her help too!


Say something, Nick chided himself, but truthfully, he didn’t know what to say. He hated feeling so uncomfortable in front of his family, but this situation was just awkward, no getting around it. It was his fault just as much as theirs, and he was sure they were even more uneasy than he was. No one was saying a word, not even Angel, who had fallen silent after her brief outburst. He figured it was up to him to make the first move, to start the unavoidable talk.

“Look…” He held out his hands and hesitated, still at a loss for words. Shaking his head, he went on, “I… I know things are really weird right now, and I don’t want them to be. We’re family. And… I know that I haven’t really shown it in the past year or two, but… I love you guys. I’ve missed you. I just…” He shrugged. “Things have just been complicated.”

Heads bobbed as Angel, Aaron, and their father all nodded silently, unanimous in their agreement. Okay, so things were complicated – they could all attest to that. Now how, Nick wondered, did they go about un-complicating it? Could things ever be fixed in their broken family?

“I was actually pissed at you for awhile, Nick,” Angel spoke up, looking down at her lap, “for pushing us away last year. But forget about that for now. I just wanna know…” She lifted her chin slowly, meeting his eyes with an expression of deep concern in her own. “Are you okay, Nick?”

Nick wanted to scoff, thinking of all the times when he had not been ‘okay’ in the past fourteen months. But he swallowed back the urge. He saw the look on his little sister’s face and knew that she had worried about him. She hadn’t called or written, to ask if he was ‘okay’ earlier… but then again, he’d never done anything to ease her fears either. I was actually pissed at you for awhile, Nick, for pushing us away last year. What did that mean? Maybe he hadn’t kept in touch, but he certainly hadn’t tried to-

Just answer her, he interrupted his own thoughts, noticing the way Angel was still staring at him, her bottom lip between her teeth. That doesn’t matter right now. All she wants to know is if I’m all right.

“I’m okay,” he said finally, and he said it with sincerity. Angel’s pinched face relaxed a little, as he continued, “I won’t lie to you and say that the past year has been the best of my life, but… things are okay now. I’m all recovered, I’m healthy… I’m back to doing most of the stuff I used to do. The guys and I have been in meetings the last few days, and we’re gonna start working on a new album later in the year. So things are slowly going back to normal. I’m still your same dumb older brother.”

Angel cracked a smile and nodded. “Good,” she said in a whisper. She cleared her throat and glanced over at her twin. “Aaron said you seemed okay when he went out there last summer… better than we thought you’d be, actually. But you know… I didn’t know…”

“I know,” Nick nodded, then shrugged. “You could have come with him, you know. Seen for yourself how I was doing.”

Angel arched an eyebrow as an unusually frosty expression hardened her features. “I didn’t know if you’d want me to.”

Nick frowned. “What is that supposed to mean? Why wouldn’t I want you to come?”

Bob Carter spoke up for the first time in several minutes. “Oh, it was made very clear to us that you didn’t need or want us around, Nickolas,” he said, the rare severity in his voice startling Nick.

“What do you mean?” he questioned, confused. “Why would you think-?” Suddenly, it dawned on him. “It was Mom, wasn’t it? What did she tell you??” he demanded, feeling the anger begin to simmer inside him.

“If I remember correctly, she said that you told her to get out of your house, that you couldn’t deal with her, that you never wanted to see her again no matter what, that you didn’t need any of us, all you needed was Brian, AJ, Howie, and Kevin,” Bob rattled off, as smoothly as if he were naming Santa’s reindeer. “Are you going to tell me it’s not true?”

Nick didn’t respond at first, though his thoughts were racing. The day his father was talking about was hazy in his mind, and all he could remember vividly was the whirlwind of emotions he’d felt… anger, fear, desperation, all intermixed with a numbing emptiness. Yet, thinking back, he began to recall bits and pieces of the conversation…


“Mom… get out of my house. You’ve made this all that much worse, and I can’t fucking deal with you on top of everything else. Get out, and don’t you ever show up on my doorstep again, no matter what Brian or anyone tells you!”

“Nick-“

“I don’t need you and your bullshit! I need my real family. My brothers…”


“No,” he answered his father finally, feeling like an ass. “I guess I did say that.” Swallowing hard, he bowed his head, flattening his hair with his hand, and sighed. “Look, maybe I was a little hard on her,” he admitted, speaking more to his lap than to them. “But you have no idea what I was going through...”

“No one’s blaming you, Nick,” said Angel, her expression softening. “We all know how Mom can be sometimes, and of course you were going through a lot. I guess I can’t speak for everyone, but I’m not angry. Just… sad.” She shrugged, leaving it at that.

Nick nodded in understanding, struck by the maturity with which his youngest sister spoke. In the months they’d been apart, Angel – and Aaron too – had grown up. The twins were not little kids anymore, nor silly teenagers, but young adults, both of whom were looking at him with regret in their dark eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Don’t be sad. Everything’s gonna be okay. I’m fine… and I promise, I’m going to do a better job at keeping in touch from now on.” He paused long enough to glance over at Claire, who had been sitting silently at his side the whole time, and then added to Aaron and Angel, “I guess I’m gonna have to, cause Claire and I want you two to be in our wedding.”

Angel was the first to react to the subtle announcement. She gasped loudly and clapped both hands over her mouth in surprise. When she dropped her hands, they revealed a huge smile. “You’re getting married?!” she squealed, jumping up from her chair. She ran over to Nick and threw her arms around his neck. “Aww, Nick, that’s so cool!”

Nick smiled, glad for her excitement. Over her shoulder, he glanced at his brother and father, trying to read their reactions. Aaron hadn’t moved from the floor, but he was smiling. Bob looked surprised, but not displeased. “Well, congratulations, both of you,” he said when Angel pulled away from Nick, and Aaron echoed similar sentiments.

“Thank you,” Claire said graciously, and Nick nodded. Immediately they were pelted with questions, most of them coming from Angel, who had seemed to transform from a serious young women to a giddy teenage girl faster than you could say ‘wedding.’ When had they gotten engaged? How had Nick proposed? Did they have a date set for the wedding yet? Could she see the ring?

Nick was relieved when the attention turned away from him to his fiancée, and he sat back gratefully, letting Claire show off her glittering engagement ring and tell Angel the details of the engagement.

“That’s how you asked her, Nick? No roses or pretty music or champagne or anything? You just said ‘marry me’ in the middle of a movie?”

“It was the end of the movie,” Nick corrected, “but yeah…” Claire left out the fact that we were both a little drunk at the time, he thought with a smirk.

Angel wrinkled her nose. “No offense, but that’s pretty unromantic.”

Nick just chuckled and shrugged, but Claire quickly rose up to defend him. “No, it was perfect,” she said. “Nick knows I’m a low-key girl… I don’t go for all the clichéd romantic stuff that’s so overused. I’m all about simplicity. The way he asked me, so simply, so spur-of-the-moment like that… it was perfect.” She smiled over at Nick, running her fingers softly over the back of his hand. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

Nick returned her devoted smile, momentarily forgetting about every other person and thing around him. He did not even hear the slam of the car door outside; it was Aaron’s soft curse that finally pulled his attention away from Claire.

“What?” he asked, looking from her to his brother, who had risen to peer out the front picture window.

Aaron had a panicked look on his face, but it wasn’t until Nick heard the sound of keys jiggling in the front door that he registered why.

“Shit,” he echoed Aaron through a groan, feeling his heart sink. “Don’t even tell me…”

“… really think you should consider applying, Les; it would be such a good opportunity for you,” Jane Carter’s syrupy voice echoed loudly through the foyer, muffled by the crunch of shopping bags.

The front door slammed, and Nick heard his sister Leslie answer sharply, “I’m not talking to you about this anymore. I don’t want to be a plus-size model; I just wanna stay in college and be like any other kid my age! You’re not gonna change my mind by buying me-“ Her sentence was cut short as she rounded the corner into the living room and gasped, her shopping bags falling from both hands. “Nick!”

“Hey, Les,” Nick said with a weak smile. He was happy to see his sister, but he knew that right behind her would be Jane.

Sure enough, he heard his mother exclaim, “What?!” and a moment later, she appeared in the doorway, peering into the living room over Leslie’s shoulder. “Nick!” she cried and pushed Leslie aside as she barreled into the room. “What are you-? I didn’t know you- Why-?” She stopped and shook her head, looking as if she couldn’t quite believe he was really sitting there in front of her. Blinking, her eyes swept over him, up and down, as if she were examining a piece of furniture for scratches and imperfections.

He fought the urge to squirm under her scrutiny and did not move or speak. He simply gazed back up at her, an expression of cool defiance on his face.

“Nick’s in town for meetings with the Backstreet Boys,” Bob informed his wife, who didn’t even look at him. “He decided to stop by for a quick visit.”

“While I was out of the house – how convenient,” said Jane curtly, looking hurt. Nick felt his cheeks growing warm - she’d guessed exactly what his intentions had been. “How long are we going to keep doing this?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears. “Going on with our day-to-day lives, pretending the other doesn’t exist? I miss you, Nick… honey. You have no idea how much I’ve thought about you and worried about you this past year. Not a day has gone by when you haven’t entered my mind. But you told me you didn’t want me around, so I’ve made myself stay away. It’s about killed me… but I’ve done what you asked.” She sniffled loudly, and Nick tried hard not to roll his eyes. Could she be any more melodramatic?

Yet no one could deny that the tears streaming down her lined face were real, and as he watched his mother break down and cry in front of him, Nick felt his heart soften as guilt began to overtake him. He sighed. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he mumbled grudgingly. “I said some things to you that I shouldn’t have. I know you were just trying to help.”

Jane nodded tearfully. “I only wanted what was best for you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted – to see you succeed and be happy.”

“I am happy,” Nick said resolutely, giving Claire’s hand a squeeze. “And whether you agree with me or not, I made the right decision last year.” He rested his hand on his left thigh, feeling the hard socket that encased it, and gave his mother a pointed look. “I’m alive, I’m healthy again… I got no regrets.”

Lowering her watery eyes to his artificial leg, Jane let out a little whimper and covered her mouth with her hand. Then she nodded. “Good,” she said softly. “Y-you look good. I’m glad things are going okay.”

Nick offered a crooked smile, feeling slightly awkward. He wasn’t sure he was ready for forgive her yet for all the wrongs she’d done him… but in a way, he was glad he had at least apologized, rather than blown up at her. Misguided as she was, Jane Carter was his mother, and that was never going to change.

Jane returned his smile cautiously, looking rather ill at ease herself. She started to take a step toward him, then stopped, letting her hands swing limply at her sides. Knowing what she wanted, Nick climbed to his feet and went to her instead, opening his arms slightly to offer a hug. Letting out another sniffle, Jane pulled him into a motherly embrace. He tensed at first, but felt his body relaxing as she ran her hand up and down his back, just as she had when he was a child. He could smell her perfume, the same scent she’d used for years and years, and he closed his eyes, breathing in the sweet, familiar aroma. It brought him a strange sense of comfort he’d not realized he needed.

“I’m sorry, Nick,” she whispered into his ear. “I’m so sorry…”

Nick swallowed and dutifully patted her back. “It’s okay, Mom.”

***

It was late afternoon by the time Nick and Claire left the Carter home. As soon as they had pulled out of the driveway, Claire reached over to turn down the radio and commented, “That wasn’t so bad. A little awkward at times, maybe, but overall… I’d say it went pretty well. What do you think?”

“I guess so,” Nick replied with a shrug. He wasn’t really sure what to think, but he was pleased to find that he actually felt pretty good. The visit hadn’t miraculously fixed all the problems in his family, but it was a start. He and his mother were at least back on speaking terms, and she’d behaved herself in front of Claire, even after he introduced her as his fiancée. There was no point in imagining they were ever going to have the perfect mother/son relationship like some of the other guys had with their moms, but this had to be healthier than a year of ‘pretending the other didn’t exist,’ as Jane had put it. “So the future in-laws didn’t scare you away?”

“Not at all,” said Claire, squeezing his knee. “I’m glad you brought me to meet them.”

Nick hesitated only a moment before giving a decisive nod of agreement. “I’m glad too.”

They fell into silence, watching the scenery pass by as Nick drove back to their hotel. Nick turned the volume on the radio back up, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel in time to the punk rock song that was playing.

“That was Sum41’s latest, off their 2004 release Chuck,” said the radio DJ as the song faded out. “And now some sad news for all you guys out there – it was reported earlier today that socialite-turned-porn-star-turned-reality-TV-star Paris Hilton was killed in a freak accident yesterday evening. According to a press release, the heiress was in the middle of filming the fourth season of her Fox reality show ‘The Simple Life.’ Paris and her cohort Nicole Ritchie were reportedly working at a carnival in a small town in Illinois during one of their stops for the show. Eyewitnesses said that Paris had boarded ‘The Scrambler’ ride and was thrown from her car when she stood up to flash the ride operator. She was rushed to the closest hospital and was pronounced dead-“

“Man, that sucks; that girl was fine,” said Nick.

Claire shrugged. “Yeah, it does suck… but hey, that’s what you get for being a stupid whore. I never saw what the big deal was about her - I always thought she looked kind of like a giraffe.”

Nick laughed; he supposed she sort of did. “Mind if I change the station?”

“No, go ahead; find us some music.”

Nick hit the seek button until he found another rock station. “Off their 1987 album Hysteria, here’s Def Leppard with ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’,” said the DJ, launching into the classic rock anthem.

“This okay?” Nick asked, bobbing his head to the driving beat of the familiar song.

“Am I not a child of the 80’s? It’s perfect.”

***