Mr. Nice Guy by Belinda Williams

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Tom hatedhimself the moment he said the words, but he wasn’t going to take them back. Just because they sounded wrong didn’t mean it wasn’t the right thing to say.

Like the flick of a switch, Chelsea’s usually rosy complexion turned pale. ‘You don’t want me here?’

‘I think it’s for the best.’

Hurt lit her face like a lightning strike illuminating the sky. In its wake, the hurt was replaced with a hard anger, as if the lightning had obliterated all the happiness inside her.

‘I can’t believe you’re saying that,’ she whispered.

‘You have to admit it’s probably for the best—’

‘The best? The best!’

Tom winced. He supposed he deserved that. It wasn’t Chelsea’s fault it had come to this. He never should have asked if she wanted to kiss him that morning after the concert. He should have left well enough alone.

I doubt she’ll be settling down anytime soon.

Tom pushed the echo of her brother’s words out of his head. Whether the statement was true or not, Tom was using it as an excuse to avoid the brutal truth.

Tom didn’t trust himself to be around Chelsea—to live with her and not touch her again. Even now with her glaring at him, his entire body ached for her. His fingers wanted to brush the hair away from her cheek. His arms wanted to surround her and never let her go.

But he couldn’t—no, wouldn’t. Because the last thing he wanted to do was change her.

She was absolutely perfect just the way she was.

Chelsea closed the distance between them and thrust her index finger against his chest. ‘You, Tom Pierce, are a real piece of work, do you know that?’

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. He deserved everything she dished out, and then some.

Her fingernail scratched his skin through his shirt. ‘You think you’re a nice guy?’ She scoffed. ‘Think again!’

He flinched—he couldn’t help it—and resisted the urge to tell her not to shout. She could shout all she wanted. He wouldn’t be the one to stop her. He’d wait for the neighbours to say something if it came to it because she had every right to be angry.

He hated himself even more when she swiped a hand across her face to remove a trail of angry tears.

‘What was it you said to me?’ she asked, her voice returning to a normal level but wavering a bit. ‘I think it was “if you can’t be honest about the good things as well as the bad things, what’s the point in having a relationship?” Your own wise words are coming back to haunt you, Mr. Nice Guy.’ When he didn’t respond, she shoved him on the shoulder. ‘Say something!’

‘You’re right. You’re absolutely right,’ he agreed.

‘So you won’t talk about it?’ She hesitated, then added, ‘Gemma.’

‘No, I’m not ready to. Which I guess means I’m not ready for a relationship. I’m sorry.’

Was that why he didn’t pursue any of the women his friends introduced him to? Was that why he avoided dating apps like the plague? But he hadn’t been able to avoid Chelsea. She’d landed in his world and made herself so much a part of it that, in the process, she’d become completely irresistible to him. Now the only practical way forward was for her to move out.

Chelsea’s expression changed to one of pity, and that was even worse. ‘How long has it been?’

‘Three years.’

Chelsea released a breath and turned away to stand by the railing. ‘At one time I might have suggested that I’d be here when you’re ready to talk about it.’

When he started to speak, she held up a hand.

‘Save your breath, because I’m not going to be here anymore now, am I? I’ll pack a bag and head to Nadia’s tonight. Then I’ll be back on the weekend to collect the rest of my things.’

‘You don’t have to—’

‘Yes. I do,’ she said firmly.

Leave so quickly,he’d been about to say. But by the time he’d finished that thought, she was already gone.

* * *

The text messagesfrom Nadia started the following day.

You dickhead.

He took that to mean that Chelsea had arrived safely at Nadia’s and stayed the night.

Another one arrived mid-morning.

She snores. You’re an arsehole.

By that point, Tom couldn’t avoid the fact that Chelsea had most likely told her friend everything.

Late afternoon, the messages became more practical.

You better not be home when we come to get her things on the weekend, you pathetic loser. We’ll be there at 10am.

Tom didn’t reply to any of the messages. He doubted Nadia was expecting him to, and if he had, she’d take it as a challenge to throw more insults his way.

Tom was walking to his car at the end of his shift that night when his phone rang. He was careful to check the screen for the caller ID before answering it. He wouldn’t put it past Nadia to berate him verbally, too. When he saw that it was Ben, he hit the accept button.

‘What’s this I hear about Chelsea moving out?’

No “Hi, Tom. How are you?” like usual. Ben was the king of small talk thanks to his job in sales, so Tom knew not to brush his friend off or try to change the subject.

‘Yeah, this weekend,’ Tom replied.

‘But she’s already staying at Nadia’s?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘What did you do?’

Or didn’t do. ‘Nothing. We discussed it and both agreed it was for the best.’

‘By discuss, you mean you kicked her out.’

Tom resisted a sigh and threw his backpack into the back seat of his car, then slammed the door.

‘I didn’t kick her out, Ben. I wouldn’t do that.’

‘But you asked her to go?’

‘Only because I thought it made sense.’

The line went silent. Tom could hear the hum of an engine, so he assumed Ben must be driving home from work.

Tom wondered how much Chelsea had told her brother. She wasn’t in the habit of sharing too many details of her life with her family. She claimed her siblings all seemed to have their lives together, unlike her. Which probably meant Chelsea had been supremely pissed at Tom in order to say anything at all to Ben.

‘What else did she tell you?’ Tom asked, hoping he wouldn’t regret prolonging the discussion.

‘That you got hot and bothered about the latest dickhead she’s been seeing. That she’s keen on you and you’re keen on her, but you won’t own it. And now you’re avoiding her and asking her to move out. Mature, mate, real mature.’

Tom eased himself into the driver’s seat, wishing he could hug Chelsea. The crux of the story was true, but she’d been kind enough to leave out the more painful, gory details.

‘Well, I don’t think it’s fair for me to share an apartment with her the way things are,’ Tom pointed out.

‘So change things! Grow some balls, own up to your feelings, and treat my little sister right.’

Tom thought that’s what he had been doing—or at least the treating her right part. The owning up to his feelings part, not so much.

‘I don’t want to hurt her,’ Tom said.

‘Newsflash, Pierce. You already are.’

Tom rested his head against the seat.

‘Seriously,’ Ben continued, ‘I’ve never heard her so worked up about a guy before. To think all it’s taken is a decent guy rather than a dickhead to make all the difference, but now you’re chickening out.’

‘I’m not chickening out,’ Tom shot back.

‘Well, what do you call it?’ Ben demanded.

Instead of answering, Tom tried to remember the last time he and Ben had fought. It had been when they were kids. Much younger kids. In primary school. And it was usually sport-related. Never in their life had they argued over girls, but then the girl had never been Ben’s sister.

‘What do you want me to do?’ Tom asked. ‘I’m not ready for a relationship. I can’t change that. It’s not fair to Chelsea to lead her on or continue to share an apartment with her.’

‘It’s been three years.’

That was the funny thing about grief. It didn’t follow a linear timeline.

Tom sighed. ‘I know. I can’t change the way I feel, though.’

‘Have you discussed why with Chelsea? She asked me what I knew about you and Gemma, but out of some misplaced sense of loyalty to you, I told her that’s something you need to tell her.’

‘What’s the point?’

‘That’s the entire point, isn’t it? As far as I know, you’ve never discussed it with anyone, period. You just ran away with your tail between your legs.’

‘I didn’t run away.’ Tom’s voice sounded hard even to his own ears.

‘You know, when Chelsea first moved to Newcastle and moved in with you, Mum and Dad were excited.’

Tom blinked at the sudden change of topic. He knew Ben well enough to know that he was going somewhere with it, as well as possibly diffusing the already tense discussion.

‘I’m sure they were. It was her first time living out of home and they were finally empty nesters,’ Tom joked, doing his bit to lighten the conversation.

‘No, that wasn’t the reason. They loved the fact that she was moving in with you.’

‘Oh, right.’ That hadn’t been the direction he’d expected the discussion to take.

‘Mum and Dad think of you like their second son.’

Tom smiled self-consciously even though Ben couldn’t see him. Ben and Chelsea’s folks were topnotch people and had always been there for him when his mum was sick.

‘That’s because their first son could do with improvement,’ Tom quipped.

‘Hard to improve perfection,’ Ben retorted without missing a beat. ‘They’ve always liked the idea of you and Chelsea ending up together.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Oh, come on. Like you never noticed? My parents were always commenting on “Tom this” and “Tom that” whenever you and Chelsea were around when we were younger.’

‘Shit. No. I never did.’

‘I don’t think Chelsea did either, if it’s any consolation. You’re both as clueless as each other.’

‘Thanks. I think. But she’s your younger sister.’

‘So?’ Tom could imagine Ben shrugging. ‘Don’t tell me you never noticed her.’

‘I noticed her,’ Tom admitted.

That’s all Tom had ever done for the longest time. Notice her. Even when they were teenagers, he couldn’t help but notice Chelsea. But you didn’t go after a friend’s sister, and then Gemma had come along . . .

And then Chelsea had moved in with him and he’d noticed her some more. Until he’d finally had the courage to do something about it, and now he wished he could take it back.

What a fucking mess.

‘I guess the question you’ve got to ask yourself is whether she’s worth getting over yourself for,’ Ben said.

‘It’s not that easy,’ Tom objected.

‘I know it’s not. Which is why no one has pushed you to for three years. But come on. Are you going to risk missing out on the right girl because you’re still not over the wrong girl?’

‘How do you know Gemma wasn’t the right girl?’ Tom protested. ‘And didn’t you say that you didn’t see Chelsea settling down anytime soon?’ Tom answered his question with a question because he didn’t want to admit the truth about Gemma.

‘Yeah, with those guys she keeps insisting on dating. You’re different.’

‘While I appreciate your faith in me, like I said, I’m not ready.’

He heard Ben exhale. ‘Fine. At least I can tell Mum and Dad I tried.’

‘Wait. They know about this?’

Shit. How had this gone from “The other night, when you asked me to kiss you. Did you mean it?” to letting Chelsea down, pissing Ben off, upsetting their parents, and pissing Nadia off more than usual?

‘Sure do. And it looks like you’re going to be added to the list of Chelsea’s loser boyfriends. Shame.’

Tom rested his elbow on the car door and put his head in his hand.

‘Anyway, I’ll leave you to mull it over,’ Ben said. ‘It’s my turn to feed the overtired child. Night.’

Tom didn’t say goodbye. The phone buzzed just after Ben hung up and Tom checked his messages. It was Nadia.

What’s your Netflix password, shit for brains? Chelsea needs to be distracted from the fact you’re useless.

Tom texted her the password, then drove home to his empty apartment.