Chapter Seventeen: Love as a Shield
The elevator carried us down in silence, but I wasn't hearing the hum of the cables or the quiet ding of the passing floors I was hearing her breathing. Sharp, uneven, like each inhale scraped against her throat.
When the doors opened, Nina bolted. Not running, exactly, but walking so quickly I had to push past two coworkers to keep up. My chest was pounding not from the pace, but from the look she'd given me before turning away. A look I couldn't name. Fear? Guilt?
I caught up with her outside, the air heavy with city fumes and late afternoon heat.
"Nina wait." My hand brushed her arm, and she flinched like I'd burned her.
She didn't stop until we reached the side street, the one nobody from the firm bothered with because it smelled like old rain and rusted pipes. Only then did she turn.
Her eyes were glassy, but dry.
"Ethan, please. Don't."
Two words, and I felt the ground tilt. She'd never said them to me like that pleading, defensive, almost desperate.
I searched her face.
"Don't what? Ask what's wrong? Pretend I didn't see you nearly fall apart in there?"
Nina shook her head, pressing her lips together, as if even her silence might betray her.
"Then tell me," I whispered. "Is it about him? Kohl?"
Her jaw tightened at the name. For a second I thought she might actually confess something. But then she said the thing I was least prepared for:
"It's not about him. It's about her."
Her.
My mind flared with the only name it could mean.
"Nora."
Nina's eyes snapped to mine, wide with alarm, like I'd just pulled the curtain off something sacred.
And that's where the world seemed to break open.
Her pupils widened, shimmering like the edges of a secret she couldn't keep. For a moment, I thought she might finally tell me everything finally let me in. But instead, her whole body seemed to fold inward, like she was trying to protect something fragile inside her.
Then, before I could speak again, she moved fast, urgent. Her hands caught my shirt and she kissed me.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't even steady. It was trembling, desperate, like she was drowning and my mouth was the only air she could find. The city disappeared. The heat, the fumes, the hollow clang of traffic—all gone. There was only her, clinging to me as if I might vanish too.
I froze for half a heartbeat, stunned by the force of her, then gave in. My arms wrapped around her, instinct pulling me closer even as my mind screamed with questions.
Her lips were hot, insistent. Each kiss felt less like love and more like a plea: Don't ask. Don't push. Just stay with me.
When she finally broke the kiss, she pressed her forehead to mine, her breath ragged. "Ethan… please," she whispered, voice shaking. "I can't I don't want to talk about her. Not now. Not ever."
Her hands slid down my chest, holding me like she could anchor herself in my heartbeat. "I just want to move on. With you. Can't that be enough?"
I swallowed hard, torn between the burn of her touch and the ache in her words. "Nina…" My voice cracked under the weight of it. "You don't have to be afraid with me. Whatever it is, I can take it."
She shook her head, tears threatening but not falling. "No, Ethan. If you love me if you really love me don't make me live in the past. Don't make me keep bleeding over something I can't change."
Her words hit like a blade, sharp and begging at once. She was making me pity her, softening every edge of my suspicion. I wanted to fight, to demand the truth, but how could I when she looked like this? So fragile. So afraid.
"I've had enough of your past," I said finally, my chest tight. "I don't care about it anymore. I want you here, now. No ghosts. No shadows. Just us."
She let out a shuddering breath, almost a sob, and kissed me again slower this time, with something that felt like gratitude and relief tangled together.
"Then promise me," she murmured against my lips. "Promise me we'll forget everything else. That you won't look for her. That it'll just be you and me."
I hesitated, guilt tugging at the edge of my honesty, but when her eyes locked on mine wet, pleading I caved. I brushed my thumb across her cheek and whispered, "I promise."
She smiled faintly, fragile as glass, then leaned into me as if the promise itself was enough to hold her together.
But inside, my chest burned with doubt. Because no matter how tightly I held her, Nora's name still echoed like a ghost in the back of my mind.