Page 64 of The Lies Always Told (Baker Oaks #4)

THIRTY-ONE

LOVE IS

What A Time, Julia Michaels and Niall Horan ; Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis

Nellie

“I didn’t know you could cook,” I tell Gus as he serves me a soup-looking dish in a bowl.

A stew, maybe? It smells fantastic, and it looks even better.

The scent is warm, layered—hints of garlic, meat, and something earthy, like root vegetables, steeped in broth for hours. My stomach tightens with hunger.

“Neither did I.” Gus chuckles, placing another bowl on the table before sitting across from me. His laughter is easy, light, a sound I haven’t heard nearly enough.

I waste no time dipping my spoon in, the steam curling upward in delicate tendrils. My lips part as I bring the spoon to my mouth, only for my entire body to jolt the second the piping-hot liquid scalds my tongue.

“It’s—” he starts just as I dramatically spit most of it back into the bowl, my tongue sticking out as I pant .

“—hot,” he finishes with a smirk, shaking his head. “It’s really hot.” Laughter spills between us, a foreign sound after how rough the past week has been. Gus reaches for a roll of paper towels, dabbing at the table where a few droplets landed.

“Sorry. It smells great.”

“Thanks. It’s my mom’s recipe.” He nudges a small bowl of rice toward me. “Here, take some rice.”

I frown slightly. “In the soup?”

“Sancocho, yes,” he corrects, nodding as he demonstrates. He scoops two spoonfuls of rice into the broth, the grains sinking before puffing up slightly, soaking in the flavors. Then, without hesitation, he sprinkles some hot sauce over it and places a slice of avocado on top.

I hadn’t even noticed the avocado on the table.

“This is the money bite,” he adds, spooning a combination of all the ingredients into his mouth and smiling at me.

I copy him, following the same steps and taking a bite.

My eyes open wide as I moan at the explosion of flavors: salty, savory, liquid like soup, but with something to chew in between.

It’s perfect. I close my eyes as I swallow, and I hear him chuckle.

“Are you sure this is the first time you’ve made this? It’s so good.” He nods quietly with a soft smile.

“I can’t take credit, though. She walked me through every step.”

“Agh, I miss your mom. I need to spend some time with her soon.”

“She’d love that.” I mean it. I do miss her. I’ve seen her around with mine a few times since I moved back, but nothing like years ago, when we would spend days with the Zabanas, especially with her. It seems like a lifetime ago now.

We continue eating in complete silence, and I use the time to take it all in.

How grateful I am he’s here, bathing me, taking care of me, cooking for me.

Saving me . He’s the last person I expected to be here.

He’s been so icy and hot, pushing and pulling, driving me wild for months, but now he realizes he can be here?

What changed? Was it the chase? Was it that I pushed him away again? What did I do? Oh, God.

“You’re sick?” I ask, trying to remember what he said earlier.

“Eh, not really? Maybe? Not what you’re probably thinking, though.”

“Oh yeah, what am I thinking?” I ask.

“It’s not some disease that will kill me, at least not now that it’s under control. But eat. We can talk later.”

“No. I want to know. Please. It’ll help me. Let me be selfish.” I know the moment the words come out of my mouth that he’ll tell me.

“My medicine, for the HAE, was making me sick. It messed with my heart, and I was having some complications.”

A chill moves through me. “What kind of complications?”

He’s quiet as I take a sip from the glass of water he placed in front of me, his fingers absently drumming against the table.

“Nothing major,” he says after a beat. “Just fainting, my heart skipping beats.”

I nearly choke. “Nothing major?”

He shrugs, the nonchalance infuriating. “It could be worse.”

“Oh, could it?” My voice rises in frustration. “Why do you play around with your health like this?”

“I don’t, but Nellie, this is my life. It’s my every day.

I’m always thinking about what could be causing something.

Am I tired just from life, or is it an indication of something else ?

Am I excited, euphoric, lustful, in love, or is my heart failing?

Am I catching my breath because I worked out hard, or is it a failed stress activity?

Am I eating too much salt? Did I take my medicine this morning?

My throat is tingling—is it a swell? Is it an attack?

Is it allergies? I have to be serious about it, but I also have to be a little nonchalant, or it won’t be able to live my life.

So yeah, I had some complications. We figured it out. ”

My fingers curl into fists. “You were going through that, and instead of letting me help, you pushed me away? Why, Gus? Why?”

His jaw tightens. “Because I was a sinking vessel with a limited oxygen supply, and I wanted the chamber to be empty. I didn’t want you near. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Well, guess what?” I push my chair back, standing abruptly. “You hurt me worse.”

I walk away, out of the kitchen and onto the porch, my pulse thrumming beneath my skin. The air outside is cool against my heated face as I step onto the back deck, my eyes falling on the still water of the pool—the pool I didn’t even get to use last time I was here because Gus hurt me so badly.

“I see that now,” he whispers from somewhere behind me, but I don’t move. Gus’ presence is a quiet force behind me. I can feel him before I hear him, the warmth of him at my back. His scent—minty and clean, softened by the lingering vanilla from the soap in the tub—wraps around me.

“I didn’t have any answers,” he says softly.

“We didn’t know what was happening, Nellie.

I know now how unfair that was to you, but at the time, all I wanted to do was protect you.

I was scared, and, if I’m being honest, you jump to conclusions.

You go from zero to one hundred, and there’s no getting through that.

You need control, and this was not only out of your control, but mine too.

Hell, even out of my doctor’s control. Last time we didn’t have answers to symptoms affecting me this much, I ended up hospitalized. ”

I whisper, “I could have been there for you.” Could I, though? If he would have told me this, would I have listened? He was scared, and I pushed him away.

His breath hitches, just barely. “I didn’t want you hurting over something as frivolous as me, but now I see I hurt you either way. But, baby, I’m hurting too. ”

My heart clenches. I turn to face him, my voice shaking. “What I feel for you isn’t frivolous.”

His hands find my arms, his touch gentle, reverent. His chin drops to my shoulder, his warmth seeping into me.

“I was trying to protect you,” he murmurs.

“Why? Why was it so important for you to protect me? Did you ever stop to think, to wonder that maybe in that situation, you were the one who needed protecting?” I don’t drop his gaze, letting him see the anger behind my eyes.

“Did you ever stop to ask whether, in that moment, maybe you needed to let someone help? To let me? I’m not brittle.

I’m not fragile. The way I feel about you isn’t either.

Stop throwing rocks when you have a glass house, Gus. ”

“It’s because of the way I feel about you that I want to protect you.

It’s a need to keep you safe. You said you hurt yourself so you could control the pain, so what was I going to do when everything I had was spiraling out of my control, huh?

Was I going to let the woman I love suffer because she couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me? When nobody else could?”

The woman I love. I open my eyes wide and take a step back with a gasp. “You should’ve trusted I wasn’t going to hurt myself. You should’ve trusted I could handle it.”

“Do you accept help, Nellie? Or do you keep everyone at bay? Do you share your thoughts, your feelings, your emotions, your struggles…with anyone?”

“I SHARED THEM WITH YOU! I kept you in the loop. I told you everything, Gus, and then you left me alone.”

“You told me to leave!” he shouts.

“And you listened?” Oh my God. I sound insane.

I stop and look at us, going in circles over the same thing over and over again.

I stop in front of him, dumbfounded. The clarity I found that day before everything went down hits me again.

He was scared… I was scared. We’re both one fucking wave, pulling back and crashing at the same time.

Not blending. No t becoming one. Just parallels trying to coexist. Oh my God.

“Nellie…” He drags a hand down his face and shakes his head.

“Wait. I know you want me to listen. I get it now. I do. But oh my God. I was wrong, wasn’t I? I was hurting, and I just didn’t pay attention. You left me, but not because you wanted to. You left?—”

“Because you told me to.”

“Nobody ever listens to me,” I reply, thinking out loud more than anything else. I listen, he said when he got here. “But you listen. You watch. You pay attention.”

We wait, not saying anything, both of us suspended in time. So much hurt and loss has happened between us. So much pain. So much want. So much love. “I don’t deserve you.”

He holds my hand and pulls me to his chest, holding my head as he says, “You do. If I deserve you, you deserve me. We’re two mirrors reflecting each other but incomplete without one another.

Neither of us know how to let each other in.

Neither of us know how to let each other heal, and love, and feel. ”