Chapter 34
Nick follows through with what Justin advised. He’s trying—really trying—to take care of himself, even if it feels foreign and difficult. That’s why he’s sitting in a restaurant with Tara and Darcy, having dinner instead of drowning himself in work or alcohol. He’d taken the last three days off, using up his vacation days under the excuse of an emergency. It wasn’t a lie, not really. Something in him had cracked open, and if he didn’t step back to patch himself together, he wasn’t sure what would happen.
So here he is. A glass of water in hand—something he’s learning to appreciate again, now that he’s sick of the burn of whiskey and the reckless haze it brings. A plate of fries in front of him, ketchup smeared lazily on the side. Tara and Darcy sit across from him, caught up in their usual effortless banter, their love for each other radiating in every glance and touch. It makes Nick smile, even if it tugs at something deep inside him. Something aching. Something missing.
Tara turns to him suddenly, eyes warm but curious. “Oh, Nick, I’ve been meaning to ask—how’s everything with Charlie? I know you’ve been busy.”
Nick hesitates, his fingers idly tracing the condensation on his glass. “Uh… we’re kind of on a break.”
Darcy, who had been sipping their drink, nearly chokes. “What? No. What happened?”
Nick exhales, shaking his head. “It’s just… I haven’t been okay. You both know that. You’ve told me I need to talk to someone, and I always brushed it off, convinced myself I was fine—just stressed, just tired. But I wasn’t fine. And I think everything just… boiled over. Ever since Otis’s anniversary, I’ve been spiraling. I didn’t see it at first, or maybe I just didn’t want to, but I hurt Charlie in the process. I yelled. I said things I shouldn’t have. And… I did something horrible.”
His voice cracks slightly, and he clears his throat, pushing past the weight in his chest.
“I just… I need to figure myself out. I need help. And while I do that, Charlie and I… we’re taking a break. Because he deserves better than someone who lashes out like that. He deserves better than me.”
Tara and Darcy exchange a glance before Darcy says, carefully, “Nick… you’re talking to someone?”
Nick nods. “Yeah. I, um… I’ve only had one session so far. I have another one tomorrow. But I’m seeing this therapist, Justin. He’s—he’s really kind. And I know it’s literally his job to understand people, but it feels like he actually gets me. Even with how little he knows. He’s trying to help me… help me understand that I haven’t lost who I am, I just stepped off the path I was supposed to be on. I need to find my way back.”
Tara lets out a breath, her face breaking into something like relief. “Oh my god, Nick. That’s… that’s amazing. I’m so glad you’re finally talking to someone.”
Nick huffs out a small laugh. “Yeah, me too. I guess I didn’t realize just how much I needed it until I started. I mean, I always thought I was just a little messed up, but…”
Darcy, who had been listening quietly, finally speaks. “Nick… with what happened to Otis, anyone would be struggling.”
Nick nods slowly, staring down at his hands. “Yeah, well… it’s not just Otis. I mean, I think his death is what sent me over the edge, but even before that, I’ve always felt… different. Like I had to wear this mask. Be someone else. And then Otis died, and that mask shattered. How could I pretend to be okay after that? My best friend was gone.”
He swallows hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “Since then, I’ve been trying to be true to myself, but in doing that, I feel more lost than ever. Because… I don’t even know who I am without all of that. Without the facade. I don’t know if that makes sense.”
“It does,” Darcy says softly.
Nick exhales shakily. “I just… I need help. And I’m finally getting it.”
Tara leans back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes narrowing in thought as she watches Nick pick at his skin. "So,” she starts, dragging out the word, “do you think you and Charlie will ever… you know.”
Nick exhales, shaking his head with a half-hearted chuckle. “I don’t know,” he admits, voice quieter than before. “Like I said, he deserves better.”
Tara tilts her head. “You really think that?”
“I know that,” Nick corrects. He rubs the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair, and sighs. “But if he did decide to—well, accept me, I guess—me back, that’d be great. I’d be the luckiest guy alive.” He pauses, rolling his thumbs together, “But again, I just… I really need to work on myself. And Charlie’s been dealing with so much. The last thing he needs is to be stressing out about a boyfriend who can’t handle stress or grief well.”
Tara hums, watching him carefully. “Nick, I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”
Nick scoffs, shaking his head. “I think I give myself exactly the right amount.”
Tara lets out a low chuckle, but there’s understanding in her gaze. “You ever think maybe Charlie doesn’t want ‘better?’ Maybe he just wants you?”
Nick’s throat bobs as he swallows. He doesn’t answer.
Because if he lets himself believe that—if he lets himself even consider that Charlie wants him, not some better, put-together version of him, just him—it might just break him in the best and worst way.
Darcy leans back in their chair, swirling their drink absentmindedly before fixing Nick with one of their signature knowing looks. “Well, Nick,” they say, voice warm but firm, “I think you’re lovely.”
Nick lets out a short, humorless laugh, looking down at his hands. “I don’t feel lovely.”
Darcy shrugs. “Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean it’s not true.” They pause, watching him carefully before continuing. “And we all love you. And I’m sure Charlie does too.”
Nick flinches at that. Charlie. He doesn’t know how to process Charlie right now—doesn’t know if he should even be thinking about Charlie, after everything.
Darcy must see it, because they lean forward, resting their elbows on the table. “Look, I don’t know everything that was said. I don’t need to. But I do know you, Nick. And I know you’re not the kind of person who tries to hurt people.”
Nick swallows hard, something tight twisting in his chest. “Doesn’t change the fact that I did.”
Darcy sighs. “No. It doesn’t. But you’re still here, right? You’re still trying. You’re still figuring shit out. That’s more than a lot of people do.”
Nick shakes his head. “It’s not enough.”
“Maybe not yet,” Darcy says easily. “But it can be. Just… keep working on yourself, yeah? And when it feels right, apologize. Mean it. And trust that Charlie’s got enough love in him to know that you do.”
Nick exhales shakily, rubbing a hand down his face. Darcy is right—they usually are. But knowing what to do and actually doing it? Two very different things.
Still, he nods. “Yeah. Okay.”
Darcy grins, raising their drink. “That’s my guy.”
The rest of dinner goes well, conversation flowing easily, the tension of the day easing with each passing moment. By the time Nick gets back to his flat, he feels lighter, like the weight pressing on his chest has lessened, even if just a little. He lets himself breathe, lets himself exist without the overwhelming fear of failing everyone around him.
And then he’s waking up.
Another morning. Another meeting with Justin.
He checks his phone instinctively. No texts from Charlie—not that he expected any. Understandable, really, after everything that happened. After the way he spiraled, after the way Charlie barely held it together himself. They both need space. Time.
Still, the lack of messages leaves a hollow feeling in his chest.
He knows he should go back to work soon. Face whatever chaos is waiting for him at the school, deal with the fallout of taking an emergency day off. But another day to collect himself, to let his mind settle before stepping back into routine, will do him some good.
Maybe Justin will have some advice. Maybe not.
Either way, Nick forces himself out of bed, grabs his phone, and gets ready for the day.
When it’s time for Nick’s session with Justin, he walks into the building with a small wave and polite smile to the receptionist before making his way to Justin’s office. The space is just as cozy as he remembers—walls lined with soft colors, art that feels personal, pride flags tucked in various corners, small tokens of comfort that make the room feel safe. He takes a seat in the therapy chair, settling in, but for a while, he just looks around, letting his gaze drift over everything that makes this space feel more like a haven than a sterile office.
A few moments later, Justin walks in, his presence warm and familiar. “Oh, Nick, good to see you,” he says with an easy smile. “Do you want some coffee? I’ve got snacks too, if you’re interested.”
Nick shakes his head. “Oh, no, no, I’m okay, but thank you.”
Justin nods, gesturing for him to get comfortable as he moves to his chair. “Well, if you’re sure. Otherwise, we can go ahead and get started. Anything on your mind today? Or would you rather ease into it?”
Nick exhales, rubbing his hands together for a moment before answering. “I mean… I don’t really know. Whatever you think is best, I guess.” He pauses, then adds, “I did take your advice, though. I went out for dinner last night with some friends.”
Justin raises a brow. “That’s great. How was it?”
“I missed them,” Nick admits, a small, sad smile forming. “It was really good to see them, to talk. But it also made me realize just how distant I’ve been. How cold I’ve been. I’ve been messed up for a while, Justin, and I think I always have been. Even before Otis…”
His voice trails off, and he takes a moment to collect himself before continuing, “I don’t think I’ve been a very good friend to them. I got so caught up in my relationship with Charlie, and in everything going on in my head, that I just… shut everyone else out. And then, when Charlie and I argued, I—” He swallows, looking down at his hands. “I said horrible things. Vile things. And I knew they would hurt him. I knew exactly what to say to wound him, and I said them anyway.”
His chest feels tight, a weight pressing against his ribs. “I don’t know,” he finally mutters, shaking his head. “I guess talking to my friends last night just made me realize how much I’ve hurt the people around me. And I don’t know how to fix that.”
Justin leans forward slightly, his voice calm but steady. “A lot of times, when people argue—when they say something cruel just to hurt the other person—it’s not really about the fight itself. It’s about protection. They’re trying to shield themselves because their walls are starting to come down, and that scares them.” He pauses, watching Nick carefully. “Did you feel that way?”
Nick swallows hard, his gaze dropping to his hands. “Yeah,” he admits after a long moment. “I did. I got scared. I mean, I’ve been scared for a while now. Ever since Remy started calling me Papa, I’ve just—” He shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “I got anxious. Nervous. Because that’s not a role I’m ready for. And more than that, it’s not a role I think I deserve.”
Justin nods but stays quiet, letting Nick work through his thoughts.
“And then there was everything with Charlie,” Nick continues, his voice lower now, almost ashamed. “How good it was—how real it felt. Too real. It was like I was waiting for something to go wrong, waiting for the moment when he’d realize that I’m not good enough, or that I’m too much of a mess to deal with, and then he’d end it.” He lets out a bitter laugh. “And then there was his ex, just lurking in the background, like a storm on the horizon. I kept worrying that Ben was going to push Charlie back into a spiral, that everything was going to fall apart before my eyes. It—it all became too much.”
His fingers clench into fists. “And instead of talking about it, instead of admitting I was scared, I lashed out. I told myself I was protecting my heart, but really, I was just trying to tear Charlie down before he could do the same to me. I said awful things—things I can’t take back. I hurt him, deliberately, just to make sure he couldn’t hurt me first.”
Nick’s voice cracks slightly as he adds, “And the worst part? It felt abusive, Justin. It felt like I was doing something unforgivable.”
Justin watches him carefully before speaking. “The fact that you recognize that, that you’re sitting here admitting it, tells me something important, Nick. Abusive people don’t usually acknowledge their behavior like this. And if they do, they justify it. They don’t sit in the discomfort of their own mistakes. But you are.”
Nick looks up at him, eyes glassy with regret.
“You weren’t trying to control or manipulate Charlie,” Justin continues. “You were overwhelmed, afraid, and you didn’t know how to navigate those feelings in a healthy way. When people are scared, when they feel their walls crumbling, they can lash out. Say things they don’t mean. Or maybe they do mean them in the moment, but only because they think it’ll keep them safe.”
Nick shakes his head. “Well, I built those walls back up,” he mutters. “And in doing so, I hurt someone I care about—someone I think I love.”
Justin raises an eyebrow. “You think?”
Nick laughs dryly. “No. I know. I love him. And I never even told him. Instead, I threw cruelty in his face and blamed him for things that were never his fault. It’s always been his ex-husband’s fault. Always. But I—I blamed Charlie instead. And I don’t even know why.”
Justin exhales, leaning back slightly. “Because he’s the closest person to you,” he says simply. “It’s easier to blame the person standing right in front of you than the ghost in the background. When people are hurt—when they don’t know how to deal with their own pain—they tend to hurt the ones they love most. Because those are the people who matter. The people who could actually break them.”
Nick closes his eyes, tilting his head back against the couch. “Well,” he murmurs, voice hollow, “I did a damn good job of breaking Charlie.”
Justin is quiet for a long moment before saying, “Then maybe it’s time to figure out how to fix it.”
Nick exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. His voice is raw when he finally speaks. “How? How do I fix this? How do I make things right?” His hands clench into fists against his thighs. “You say there aren’t broken people, but I feel broken, Justin. I feel like I ruin things. Like I ruined this.”
Justin, ever steady, shakes his head. “I never said you were broken, Nick. And I don’t believe there are broken people. I do, however, believe that circumstances—situations—can break relationships. And I think what happened between you and Charlie may have done just that.”
Nick swallows around the lump in his throat. “So that’s it? It’s broken?”
“No,” Justin says firmly. “Because broken relationships can be mended. That’s the difference. You don’t need to fix yourself. You don’t need to fix Charlie. You need to mend what you have together. And that’s possible.”
Nick lets out a humorless laugh. “So you don’t think I’m broken?”
Justin sighs, leaning forward. “Like I’ve said, I don’t believe people are broken. I think people get lost. And Nick—you sound like someone who’s been lost for a long time.”
Nick’s breath catches.
Justin continues, voice even but kind. “You lost someone you loved. And loss like that…it’s not something you just get over. It lingers. And on top of that, your life has changed so drastically. You’ve gained a new title—one you never expected. A father, in every sense of the word. You’re in a relationship that’s real and raw, something deeper than what you’ve had before. And all of that is happening while you’ve barely had the space to grieve Otis, to truly process what happened. It’s overwhelming, and it’s a lot all at once. And in the midst of all that, while you’ve been trying to hold everything together, you may have lost pieces of yourself along the way. You may have fractured relationships, not because you’re broken, but because you’re lost.”
Nick’s chest tightens. “So what do I do?”
Justin’s expression is gentle but firm. “You find your way back. You figure out who you are, outside of the grief, outside of the expectations. And if you want to mend things with Charlie, you do it from a place of honesty, not because you think you need to be ‘fixed’ for him, but because you want to build something together.”
Nick drops his head into his hands. His voice is barely a whisper. “I don’t know who I am, Justin. I don’t know if I’ve ever really known.”
Justin doesn’t flinch. “Then let’s start there. Why do you feel like you don’t?”
Nick takes a deep breath, his fingers twisting together as he stares down at them. His voice is quiet when he finally speaks, careful and raw, like he’s still trying to untangle the words as they leave his mouth.
"I think… I think I’ve just always followed the path laid out for me. Not because it was what I wanted, but because it was easier than figuring that out for myself. I mean, from grade school, I played football—not because I loved it, not because I had some deep passion for it—but because my father loved it, and my older brother was good at it, so it just… made sense. I got good at it, too. And even though I never really thrived off it, even though it wasn’t something that lit a fire in me, I stuck with it. It helped build a future. It got me through school, got me into college. So I kept going."
He exhales, a slow, tired thing, like he’s been holding this in for years.
"And that’s kind of how it’s always been. Just… following along. In school, I stuck with the crowd, even when I didn’t agree with them. A lot of the guys I hung around were assholes—racist, homophobic, just downright shitty people—but I didn’t speak up. I never defended the people they hurt, even when I knew they were wrong. It wasn’t that I agreed with them, but I didn’t argue either. It was just easier to stay quiet. I’ve always been a follower, never a leader. And because of that, I don’t think I ever gave myself the chance to figure out who I really am."
His hands flex, then clench again.
"I’ve always been put into these boxes, these expectations. I’m a big guy, so people assume I love the gym. I pass as straight, so I let myself get swept into bars and parties, forcing myself into meaningless flings with pretty women because that’s what was expected of me. But it was never what I wanted. What I wanted was… softer. I wanted relationships that felt safe, that felt real. I wanted the quiet moments, the late-night talks, the soft touches, the kind of love that wasn’t just about the chase or the show of it, but about something deeper."
Nick swallows, then shakes his head slightly, his brows furrowing.
"But beyond that? I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what makes me… me. I’m just Nick. And I don’t even know what that means."
There’s a pause, a silence that stretches just long enough for Nick to feel the weight of it settle in his chest. Then, Justin speaks, voice gentle but sure.
“Well, if you don’t know who Nick is… who would you like him to be?”
Nick exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair as he gathers his thoughts.
“I want to be kind,” he says, voice steady but raw. “I want to be a good boyfriend—someone Charlie can trust, someone he feels safe with. Not someone who lashes out at every inconvenience or fear. I want to be patient, to be understanding. To be someone who helps him feel lighter, not someone who adds to the weight he’s already carrying.”
His fingers tap absently against the counter. “And one day... I want to be a good father. I think about it sometimes. I had the best mom in the world, and if I could take even a fraction of what she gave me and pass it down to my own kids, I think that would be... really nice.” He huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get there, if I even deserve to, but I’d like to try. I’d like to be someone who is patient and present and kind. Someone who listens.”
He pauses, then sighs. “I want to be a good teacher. I think I am, but sometimes I get too invested. I pick favorites, even when I don’t mean to. And that’s not fair because for a lot of kids, school is the only place they feel safe. It’s where they get a free meal, where they can be around friends, where they have adults who actually care about them. I don’t ever want to be someone who lets them down.”
Nick shakes his head, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I want to find things that bring me joy. Real joy. I like the gym, but I do it more for the stress relief than anything else. I don’t want that to be the only thing keeping me going. I want to find hobbies that don’t revolve around pushing myself to exhaustion. I don’t want to sit at home watching the same shows over and over because I’m too anxious to start something new, too afraid of the unknown.”
His voice softens. “I want to heal. I don’t want to keep living with this list of regrets, this voice in the back of my head that never lets me forget what I’ve lost. I love him, I do, but I think... I think it’s time to let go.”
Nick exhales again, pressing his palms flat against the counter.
“I just... I want to be good,” he whispers. “I want to be good.”
Justin sits across from Nick, his expression gentle but firm, the kind of calm assurance that comes from years of self-discovery. He leans forward slightly, hands clasped together as he speaks, voice steady, grounding.
"Nick, all of this—the things you're struggling with, the things you want to be better at—those are all steps toward something bigger. And if you want to be good, if you want to move forward, the first step is recognizing where you've gone wrong and asking for forgiveness.
"But I know what you’re thinking," Justin continues, tilting his head knowingly. "'What if Charlie doesn’t forgive me?' And the truth is, you don’t know. That’s the risk of asking for forgiveness. It’s stepping forward without a guarantee, understanding that you may not get the answer you want. But you do it anyway, because it’s the right thing to do. You do it because you care."
He takes a deep breath before continuing, his gaze unwavering. "Listen, I don’t know how much you’ve figured out about me, or if you even knew at all, but I’m transgender. That’s something I’ve lived with since I was a teenager, something I had to fight for. Back in high school, I felt lost all the time. I didn’t know who I wanted to be, only that the skin I was in—the body I was given—was wrong. But the expectations people placed on me didn’t align with what I needed. So I made a choice. I chose to find my own way. I chose to be in a body that felt like mine, to use pronouns that fit me, to take control of my own story instead of living one that wasn’t mine."
He exhales slowly, letting the weight of his words settle. "A lot of people feel lost, Nick. It doesn’t matter if they’re teenagers, young adults, middle-aged, or even fifty years old. Everyone, at some point, struggles with who they are. And for a long time, I wore a mask, pretending to be someone I wasn’t. But the moment I realized I didn’t have to? That I didn’t have to live by other people’s expectations, that I could take off the mask and be who I really was—that’s when everything changed."
Justin’s voice softens, but his conviction remains strong. "I’m not saying my experience is the same as yours, not even close. But I know what it’s like to want to be better, to want to find your way. And the only way to do that is to try. To take the first step. You want to be a good boyfriend? Then go talk to Charlie. Apologize. Even if it’s hard, even if you don’t know how he’ll respond—go. You want to be a good father? Then have a real conversation with Remy. He’s young, yeah, but kids are smart. They read your body language, your tone, your presence. If he sees that you’re soft, that you care, that you’re trying—he’ll know. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll forgive you too."
Justin leans back, offering a small, knowing smile. "You want to be good, Nick? Then go be good. No one’s stopping you but yourself."
Nick hesitates, the weight of uncertainty pressing heavy against his chest. “But what if it goes wrong?” His voice is quiet, unsure.
Justin leans back slightly, thoughtful. “Well,” he says, “if it goes wrong, maybe there’s a reason for it. I don’t know if you’re religious, Nick. I don’t know if you believe in fate, or destiny, or the idea that the universe aligns things just as they should be. Maybe you believe in soul ties—that some people are meant to be in your life, even if the timing isn’t right. Maybe you don’t believe in any of that at all.”
He pauses, watching Nick carefully. “But I’ll tell you what I do believe in. I believe that good people do the right thing, even when it’s hard. That they own up to their mistakes, that they seek forgiveness, not because they expect a certain outcome, but because it’s the right thing to do. Even if it doesn’t go the way you hope, you’ll know that you tried, that you put kindness and honesty into the world.”
Justin sighs, giving Nick a measured look. “I told you before that it might be best to give Charlie space. And maybe that was true for a time. But if part of finding yourself, part of figuring out what makes you you, includes being a good boyfriend to Charlie and a good father to Remy, then I think it’s okay to try. To reach out. Not in a way that forces anything, not in a way that pushes boundaries, but in a way that lets him know you care.”
Nick swallows, nodding slightly, but still looking uncertain.
“I know you feel like you don’t know who you are,” Justin continues. “That you’ve spent so much of your life being shoved into boxes that don’t fit. The athlete. The perfect son. The guy who goes along with the crowd. But Nick, you don’t have to keep yourself trapped there. You don’t have to search for some grand title or label to define yourself. You just have to be. Try things. Explore. Maybe you love crafting, but you’ve avoided it because some asshole told you it was too girly. If that’s the case? Screw them. Who cares? Do the things that make you happy.”
Nick lets out a small breath, something almost like a laugh, but not quite.
Justin softens. “And Nick? Go talk to the people who love you. Your friends. Your family. And if you’re ready, if it feels right—apologize to the person you love but haven’t told yet. Because at the end of the day, being true to yourself means being true to the people who matter to you. And you deserve that. You deserve to be happy.”
Nick lets out a shaky breath, staring down at his hands, fingers twisting together in his lap. "Even after everything I’ve said? After everything I’ve done? You still think I deserve to be happy?"
Justin tilts his head slightly, his expression gentle but unwavering. "Nick, I think everyone deserves happiness. I think living a life without it isn’t really living at all."
Nick exhales sharply, a bitter chuckle slipping out. "That... that kind of sounds like something Otis once told me." His throat tightens, and he swallows hard, voice dropping to a whisper. "I miss him. I miss him so much. And I keep thinking... if I had done something different, said something different—maybe he’d still be here. Maybe he wouldn’t be six feet under while I keep going on, pretending that I deserve to be here more than he does."
He shakes his head, frustration and grief tangling together in his chest. "And Charlie... I don’t think he understands that kind of hurt. Or maybe he does, but he’s too afraid to ask. Afraid that if he does, I’ll lash out at him. And hell, he has every right to be afraid of that, because I have lashed out at him. I’ve said things I shouldn’t have. I’ve blamed him for a title I never asked for. But it wasn’t Charlie who gave me that title.
"It was just... there. Given to me the moment Remy decided to trust me. And the thing about kids is... they trust adults. Until they don’t anymore."
Nick lets out another breath, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know if I deserve happiness. But I do know that Charlie does. And more than anything... I want to be the one who makes him happy."
Justin leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "Then show him that," he says simply. "Go apologize. Show him you don’t want to be cruel. Show him you don’t want to be anything like his ex-husband. Show him that you want to be Nick Nelson—not someone who lets pain dictate his actions. And then see what happens."
Nick lets the words settle, the weight of them pressing against his ribs. "So... that’s my homework then? Go and talk to Charlie?"
Justin shakes his head with a small smile. "Not this time," he says. "No homework today. Just some advice, from friend to friend."
Nick blinks, caught off guard by the word. "Friend?"
Justin nods. "Yeah. Because I don’t usually tell my clients that I’m transgender. I don’t usually talk about my high school experiences. But I told you. And that has to mean something, right?" He pauses for a moment, before continuing. "So, from friend to friend, colleague to colleague—I do think you deserve happiness. And from what I can tell, Charlie is happiest when he’s with you.
"So, no homework. But if you want some guidance? Yeah, go talk to him. Go fix this."
Nick nods slowly, exhaling like he’s trying to steady himself. "Okay. I’ll try."
Justin raises a brow. "You’ll try?"
Nick lets out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. I will. I’m going to apologize. Properly."
Justin grins. "Good. And hey—you can come back in four days and tell me how it went. Or tell me anything, really. Whatever’s on your mind. I’ll be here, same as always."
Nick studies him for a moment, something warm settling in his chest despite everything. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Okay." He rubs his palms against his jeans and nods again, this time with a little more conviction. "I'm going to go talk to him."