This One Moment (18 page)

“We have some questions to ask you.” He jerked his chin toward his partner. He wouldn't be interviewing us together. We'd be questioned separately.

My body trembled, again. Nolan kept his arms around me until the younger cop joined us, then the bulkier cop indicated for Nolan to follow him.

“You going to be okay?” Nolan asked.

I nodded, temporarily unable to speak.

He followed the officer until they were far enough away so I couldn't overhear them.

“Can you tell me what happened?” the younger cop asked me. I told him about being chased through the woods, about how I'd remembered the man was the person who'd attacked me a few weeks ago. I explained how I'd lost my footing and how Nolan had saved me.

As Nolan and his cop returned to us, my body started shaking again, but this time for a different reason. I believed Nolan was a hero for saving me. He hadn't meant for the guy to die. That was an accident. But would the cops see it that way? Would they detain him further because there was a death involved? Would tomorrow's headlines declare Nolan a killer, just like his father?

“Are you staying in town?” the cop asked Nolan.

Nolan glanced at me for a brief second before looking back at him. He let out a heavy breath as if his world was about to crumble. “I have to return to L.A. tomorrow morning.”

My heart splintered in two. I pushed the pieces aside. I had known this was coming. Or at least my brain had accepted it. My heart wasn't so quick on the uptake, it would seem.

Nolan returned his gaze to me. “The president of the record label called earlier….He demanded that I be on the next plane to L.A.” So the band could prepare for the upcoming recording session. So he and Alyssa could begin work on repairing his image.

So he and she could become lovers in everyone's eyes—which could possibly develop into the real thing.

Ignoring our pain and Nolan's comment to me, the cop asked, “We might need to be in touch with you. Is there a number you can be reached at?”

After Nolan gave him the information and the scary cop suggested I go to the hospital to be checked over—which I refused to do—we were allowed to leave. Still concerned about me, Nolan pulled me against him. I sank into his warm, strong body. All I wanted was for him to take me home, hold me, and never let me go. At least I'd get the first two. The last one would remain a dream.

The younger cop drove us back to my apartment. Once inside my room, I grabbed my yoga pants, favorite T-shirt, and underwear, and headed to the bathroom. Nolan came with me. The memory of what happened last time we were in the bathroom came back to me, and my body heated.

“I just want to hold you,” he said, reading my mind, his voice gentle. “I don't think you should be alone.”

I nodded, removed my clothes, and turned on the water. Nolan stripped off his clothes too, and we entered the enclosed space.

I stepped under the water, closed my eyes, and let the heat soak into me. Nolan moved behind me and wrapped his arms around me. The water was hot, but that didn't stop the trembling that upgraded to earthquake-sized shakes. I tried to stop, but the harder I tried, the harder my body shook.

And then I was sobbing.

Nolan turned me around in his arms. He didn't tell me everything would be all right. He knew it wasn't over yet. I didn't have to fear that man again, just as Nolan didn't have to fear his father anymore. Now I had to deal with the emotional trauma from everything that had happened. But unlike with Nolan, I wasn't going to pretend it had never happened. I wouldn't let it bury me alive.

I'd get help.

The tears eventually slowed to a hiccup, and I remained under the water while Nolan gently washed my body. The sensation was both sweet and erotic. If I'd had the strength after everything I'd just gone through, I would have made love to him in the shower. Again.

Instead, I kissed him. As far as I was concerned, that was okay. The world might believe he was involved with Alyssa, but they weren't in the real sense of the word.

Even though our naked bodies were touching, the kisses remained sweet and unassuming, and they soothed my battered emotions. We gently swayed to the imagined music in our heads. The one I was hearing, of course, was the first song he'd written, the first of his songs I'd fallen in love with.

Eventually we turned off the water and dressed. The day's events had drained me, but I didn't want to go to bed yet. I just wanted to curl up with Nolan and watch a movie. To let it distract me.

“If you want,” he said as I combed my wet hair, “I can order pizza.”

“Mediterranean?”

He grinned. “Of course.”

While we waited for the pizza to be delivered, I phoned my parents and Kayla to tell them the guy who had put me in the coma had been found. I didn't tell them about the attack or that he was dead. I didn't feel like talking about that now. I simply told them the police had him. Close enough.

We found a movie to watch and cuddled together on the couch. Even though it wasn't normally his top choice of genres, Nolan had suggested a romantic comedy. Okay, maybe not the best choice, since our romance wouldn't have a happily-ever-after ending, but at least it made us laugh.

Well, made
me
laugh.

I shifted to face him. “What's wrong?” There were so many possible answers, it was just easier asking than guessing.

He gave a bitter laugh. “What's right? I killed a man today, accident or not. And now I have to fly back to L.A. and deal with the repercussions of the shit storm that's hit since I got here.”

I threaded my fingers with his. I didn't know what else to say when it came to what had happened today. I hoped that in time he would realize it wasn't his fault. “You've got to do what you have to do. You've worked too hard for this not to.” I swallowed back the pain and tears. “When do you leave?”

“Early tomorrow morning.”

Tonight would be our last night together. “I know you don't want to, but before you return to L.A., you should visit your parents' house. It'll give you the closure you need.”

He shook his head, eyes full of heartbreaking sorrow that made you want to hug him and never let go. “But I don't want to remember,” he whispered.

I glanced back at the foosball table. “Tell you what—if I win, you visit your parents' house.” I squeezed his hand. “I'll be with you the entire time, like at the cemetery.”

“And if I win?”

“I'll never bring it up again.”

I rubbed my hands together, preparing to win the game. Since he'd moved into the apartment, we had played the game almost nightly. While we might both have been rusty at first, we'd quickly regained our form. It was almost like we'd never stopped playing, except Nolan was better at the game than he used to be.

Which meant this game could go either way.

We got into position and I popped the ball through the hole. Desperation hovered in the air, both of us wanting to win more than we'd ever wanted it before. Never had the stakes been so high.

Nolan's player kicked the ball down the field, but I blocked it in time. I attempted to shoot it toward his goal and almost succeeded, but his player regained ownership of it.

The game continued like this—just as one of us was about to score, the other one blocked the shot and stole the ball. We battled for what felt like half the night, but the score was tied at 2–2. The next goal would win the game. I'd never seen him look so determined and so intense as he did now.

I tossed the ball through the small hole in the side of the table and immediately moved my nearest player to kick it. Only I nicked it, and the ball careened toward Nolan's line of players. I frantically tried to block it but I wasn't fast enough.

Nolan scored.

And angels wept. Or more likely, their tears turned to snow. Small flakes started falling from the sky and clung to the living room window.

But from the way Nolan cheered, you'd have thought he'd won the World Cup. Which meant not only was he not going to his parents' tonight—and never would—I couldn't bring it up again. If there was an again. I had no idea if this would be the last time I'd ever seen him.

Somehow I had a feeling it was.

As if thinking the same, Nolan let his cheering die away and he reached for me. He pulled me close and his lips found mine. Unlike when we were in the shower, these kisses weren't sweet and unassuming. They were knotted with both desire and an unspoken fear we would never see each other again. Not like this.

The kisses grew hungrier and more intense. I'm not sure how it happened, but one minute we were in the living room kissing, and the next we were in my room, our clothes on the floor.

The intensity of the kisses shifted. They were still passionate, but our caresses became tender as we worshiped each other's body, worshiped each other's soul.

I memorized his sounds, his smells, the feel of his skin against my mine. When he finally entered me, I memorized how he felt inside me, how he filled me, how he made me come, crying out his name. And as I came back down to earth next to him on the bed, I memorized the sound of his heartbeat, my head resting on his chest.

He enveloped me in his arms and drew soothing circles on my back. I fought against sleep for the longest time, neither of us speaking, both of us soaking in these last precious moments together.

Outside, the wind howled through the hibernating trees, warning of a coming storm. If I was lucky, it meant Nolan's flight would be canceled, and he'd be stranded in Northbridge for a few more days.

By slow degrees, my exhaustion from everything that had happened today became too powerful for me to hold back, and I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up, the early morning rays of sunlight poked through the gaps in the curtains. Last night's storm had long since moved on. That was the first thing I noticed. The second was that Nolan's arms were no longer wrapped around me and my head was no longer on his chest.

Even before I reached out to his side of the bed and touched the empty sheets, an ache filled every space in my body. My fingers searched for a sign that he had recently been here, but the warmth from his body had long since faded. I didn't have to leave my room to know that he was on his flight back to L.A.

Blinking away the tears, I hugged his pillow and inhaled his scent still clinging to it. But this failed to dull the ache. If anything, it only intensified it. As did the knowledge that eventually the scent would disappear, like the warmth on his side. And then I'd be left with nothing to remember him.

Clearly a glutton for punishment, I relived the memory of last night, of the last time I would make love with him.

And I relived the memory of his lips against my forget-me-not tattoo. When I'd gotten it, I'd half hoped the old belief was true and that my lover would never forget me. But back then, Nolan hadn't been my lover. Whether the belief was true or not hadn't mattered. Now it mattered more than I cared to admit. I never wanted Nolan to forget what I meant to him, but that was nothing more than a foolish wish. The wish of someone who deep down wanted to believe in happily-ever-afters.

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't stay in bed all day and dwell on those last moments. I had to go to work. I had to move on.

If I was lucky, no one at the sports center paid attention to the fan sites. But based on the reaction I'd seen when Nolan showed up there, I doubted I would get that lucky.

Still a little sore from yesterday's attack, and maybe a little apprehensive of being stalked while running again, I decided to skip my run this morning. I grabbed my work clothes and hopped in the shower.

After I finished getting ready, I entered the tiny kitchen to make a quick breakfast. At the sight of the folded piece of paper on the table, my heart tripped over itself to read it.

Forget-Me-Not,

You looked so peaceful when I left this morning, I couldn't bear waking you up to say goodbye. While I regret everything in the past twenty-four hours that has done nothing but hurt you, I don't regret a single second I've spent with you.

I'll never stop loving you.

Stay safe.

Nolan

My breath sucked at his second-to-last line, my vision growing blurry. I'd never told him I loved him, and he'd never said it to me either. Yes, he'd told me I was his heart and soul, but neither of us had actually laid out what that meant.

Not that it mattered anymore. It was time for me to move on. For us both to move on.

But even after acknowledging that, I couldn't find it in me to throw away the letter. Instead, I refolded it and hid it in my underwear drawer. If I ever had the courage to open my heart to another guy, I'd make sure he never saw the letter. But for now, it and the memories from the past few weeks Nolan and I had spent together were all I had left of him.

And I already knew it wouldn't be enough.

I hurried along the recently cleared path to the sports center. The brisk wind nipped my exposed skin and found its way through my winter coat and jeans.

“Hey, you're early,” Chris called out behind me. I turned to him, giving him a beat to catch up with me.

“I figured now that I'm healed, I should register for the self-defense class for this weekend, if there's still room. Though I think by now I've had my lifetime quota for attacks.”

He winced at the truth of it, even though he didn't know about the latest one. The police hadn't yet identified the body and hadn't yet disclosed to the media the connection between the attack in Westgate and the man's death. They wanted to rule out first if he had been working with an accomplice the night he attacked me in Westgate—a detail I'd neglected to tell Nolan, since he already had enough to worry about with recording the band's upcoming album. As it was, I still had no idea why I had been in Westgate and why the guy had tried to kill me.

“I don't think that makes a difference, Hailey,” Chris told me.

I shrugged. “A girl can always hope.”

“Well, ya know, when in doubt, go for the nuts. That will buy you time.” He flashed me a pained look to prove his point and opened the door for me.

Blondes #1 and #2 must have sensed his presence. We'd barely stepped into the building before they converged on us.

Expecting them to do their usual flirting with Chris, I walked toward the registration desk to check on the class.

I didn't get that far. Blonde #1 stepped in front of me. “You're not dating Tyler Erickson anymore, are you?”

“I wasn't dating him.” That much was true. “We're just friends.” Who had sex together, but she didn't need to know that.

“Is he coming back here?” Blonde #2 asked.

A loud bang startled me.

The sound of metal hitting metal slammed through my brain. I cracked open my eyelids but was met by darkness. From my cramped position in the enclosed space, I couldn't tell where I was. My head hurt. That was all I knew.

The world swayed around me.

Someone placed an arm around my lower back, steadying me. “I've got you,” a man said.

I blinked him into focus. Blondes #1 and #2 were eyeing me like I was a dye job gone wrong.

“What was that noise?” I asked the man, whom I'd seen a few times in the sports center, working out or talking to his stepdaughter, who had a part-time job there.

“Someone accidentally knocked a chair over,” Lindsey's stepfather said.

“You look like you've seen a ghost,” Blonde #1 pointed out.

I shook my head. “It's nothing. I just remembered something.”

“You remembered something that scared you? What the hell was it?” Chris placed a plastic chair from the nearby waiting area next to me. “Sit.”

“I'm fine. Really.”

Blondes #1 and #2 looked more interested in pumping additional info out of me about Nolan than finding out why I'd been suddenly dizzy. Given I didn't want to discuss him with them or anyone, I added, “I keep remembering things about when I was attacked.”

Chris's eyes widened. “Do you know who it was?”

“No. Not yet. I just keep remembering bits and pieces of that night.”

“Other than that, how are you doing?” Lindsey's stepfather asked, his gaze sweeping over my body. But not in a sleazy, checking-me-out kind of way. Not like what Blonde #2 was doing to him. “Sorry, hazard of the job,” he explained. “I'm a firefighter.”

I could've sworn Blonde #2 sighed as if she was about to swoon. Either she didn't notice his wedding ring or she didn't care that he was married.

While she might have been sizing him up as her next target, the feeling wasn't mutual. Seeing that I was okay, he excused himself and headed for the main entrance without giving her a second glance.

“So, are you and Tyler still together?” Blonde #1 asked, returning to the original inquisition.

I let out a long exasperated breath. “Nothing's going on between Tyler and me.” I didn't wait for her to ask me another question. I told Chris I would talk to him later and walked off to ask about the class.

The guy working the registration desk checked his computer. “That class is full. But there's space in the one after that.”

“When is it?”

“January fifteenth.”

“That's fine.” Even thought I hadn't told Kayla my plans, I registered her in the class too. She could thank me later.

As if sensing I was thinking about her, she sent me a text:
Dylan's got a work Christmas party Thursday night. You want me to bring over the popcorn?
That was Kayla's way of asking me if I wanted her to come over to watch a movie that night.

Sounds great.