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Chapter Fifteen

Rochelle woke up an hour later to the sound of a slamming door and a muffled curse in the hallway. She listened in the dark as Nick shuffled past the guest room door, the floor squeaking under his weight, and started down the stairs. She sat up, wondering what he was up to, reminded of AJ sneaking out at night to go drinking the last few weeks that she'd spent with him. Rochelle crawled out of bed, and moved stealthily into the hallway, too, and reached the top step before Nick was even halfway down.

"Where are you going?" she demanded in a thick whisper.

Nick looked back up at her. "Rochelle?" he said in surprise, squinting through the dark, "You're still up?"

"Where are you going?" she repeated.

"I thought you went to bed?" he asked.

"I thought you did," Rochelle retorted.

They stood, staring at each other, the impasse hanging between them. She wasn't going to let him go until he told her where he was going and he didn't want to tell her where he was going at all; neither was willing to back down. Moments ticked by. Long moments.

"I'm going for a ride," Nick finally caved.

Rochelle nodded, "I'm coming with you," she replied. "One second while I grab my sweatshirt."

Nick frowned.

Rochelle disappeared from view and for a moment Nick envisioned bolting out the front door and leaping into the car without her. What in the hell would she ever do? It wasn't like she could run the same speeds as his car could drive.

Rochelle reappeared a moment faster than Nick's hesitation had allowed him to move and she came down the steps, pulling on a sweatshirt printed with various colored cupcakes. She zipped it up the front and Nick held open the front door for her.

Outside, crickets were chirping and the ocean was rolling like a dull hum from behind the house. They climbed into Nick's car and he backed out the driveway without turning on the lights. In fact, the headlights stayed dim until they were in the street and a couple houses away from his. Rochelle looked over at him in the dark, his features only just lit up by the street lamps.

"About earlier," Rochelle said suddenly, "Nobody wishes it was you that died instead of Alex. Not even me."

Nick's lips tightened, then he licked them, but he didn't part them to speak. He simply stared ahead, his knuckles tight on the wheel.

"I guess I can't say nobody," Rochelle ammended, "I can't speak for everyone, but as for me, I don't wish it."

"Of course you do," Nick said quietly. "Like you said earlier, it's not fair, he was your husband."

Rochelle sighed, "Nick. I knew a part of AJ that not many other people knew --"

"If you're about to tell me some sob story about AJ's past and his sad experiences you can save it. Trust me, I know a lot more about AJ and his past and his sad experiences than I'm guessing even you know," he said. "I was there for most of it, don't forget, and what I missed we talked about many times at length."

"Okay so then you know how tortured and broken his heart was," Rochelle said.

Nick blanched. "The heart that's in me you mean?"

"You know what I mean," Rochelle said, frustrated.

"I wish it was me that had died instead of him," Nick said. His voice was resigned and final and Rochelle felt a little bit of her shatter at the heaviness of Nick's tone. "I wish he was here instead of me."

There was a long pause, a thick silence that fell between them. "I'm worried for you," Rochelle admitted.

"Worried about what?"

Rochelle looked at her hands. She hadn't even let herself think it yet. "That maybe you're suicidal."

Nick snorted. "Suicidal?" he laughed, "Maybe once upon a time. But now -- well suicide ain't an option now."

Rochelle found this wording strange. "What?"

"I can't kill myself because technically I am already dead. Technically, my heart doesn't even exist anymore. My heart is in some briney shit in a jar in some hospital some place or something. It's dead. It stopped beating." He laughed, "I'm like the undead. Or maybe AJ is. Maybe we both are. I don't know. But I can't kill myself because I'm already dead. Suicide would now be killing AJ."

"It's one organ, Nick," Rochelle argued.

Nick shook his head. "I dunno, I feel like... Like I owe him something. Like a debt I can't repay." Nick sighed.

"Nick, if he had the choice you know he would've given his heart to you," Rochelle said, "You didn't take it from him. He'd be gone right now whether they stuck his heart into you or not."

"He wouldn't have been drinkin' in the first place, and that wouldn't have happened if it hadn't been that I was in the hospital and all that crap," Nick argued. "He would've been here."

Rochelle looked up and realized where Nick had driven them.

Directly into the driveway of the house where she'd lived with AJ. It'd been just months since she'd been there, yet it felt more like years or even decades. She felt her palms break into a sweat. "Why are we here?" she whispered.

"This is where I go to think at night," he said. He cut the engine. "Are you coming in?"

"To my house?" Rochelle asked.

"AJ's house, actually," Nick argued.

Rochelle stared at the house. "Why?" she asked.

"Because I'm going in?"

"No, I mean -- Why do you come here to think, of all places?"

Nick drew a deep breath, "Because sometimes it feels more homey," he answered, and he swung himself out of the car, slamming the door behind him, and trotted up the walkway to the front door. Rochelle watched as he pushed it open. He paused in the door way and looked back at her in the car, holding the front door open, one eyebrow raised, his face blue in the pale moonlight.

Rochelle climbed out of the car and jogged to the front door, praying with each step that coming here wasn't going to turn out to be a huge mistake.