Never a Hero

enough.” His smile softened. It became something gentle. “I’m glad you were here.”
    My heart skipped a beat, and I ducked my head, unsure how to answer. I’m glad I’m here too. You’re beautiful. Let’s both stop being so lonely. But I didn’t say anything. We sat in silence, both of us staring at the TV, although I wasn’t sure we were seeing it.
    It was ridiculous, the way we were suddenly both so tense. We were side by side on the couch as we so often were, but I felt as if we were poised on a cliff, leaning forward, eying the drop. I felt the sweet call of gravity.
    He put his hand on my shoulder. My heart raced as he pulled me close, against his side.
    “Nick?” I whispered.
    “Shhh,” he soothed as he put his arms around me. He stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head. “Just this, okay? I miss it.”
    I closed my eyes and swallowed against the lump in my throat. How could he make me so happy and yet so sad, all at the same time?
    “Is it okay?” he asked. “If you’d rather not—”
    “It’s good. I miss it, too.” I settled against him, sighing at the feel of his arms around me. The soft touch of his lips on my hair. He was strong and warm and he smelled so good. It was all heartbreakingly comfortable and familiar.
    Just this.
    It’s enough, I thought.
    For now.

    The weather took a turn for the worse on the Friday after Thanksgiving, and as the skies darkened, so did Nick’s mood. He seemed beaten, and I had no idea why. He put on a good show for his family, but I sensed the grief that lay underneath his cheery facade. I’d felt close to him in the preceding days, but now he was distant again, although still friendly. I wondered if it had to do with us cuddling on the couch the night before, but I suspected there was more to it than that.
    Truvy seemed to sense his mood as well, and several times I saw her watching him, her anguished expression matching his. When it was time for them to leave, he held his mother so tight I feared he’d hurt her. I was surprised to see tears on his cheeks.
    “You’re coming for Christmas, right?” she asked him as she wiped the tears away, the way any good mother would.
    “I wouldn’t miss it.”
    “You know you can bring Owen.”
    He nodded, but I could tell he didn’t feel any better. It confirmed what I’d already suspected—I was only a small part of whatever was bothering him.
    Truvy didn’t have to wonder though. Truvy knew. “Honey,” she said, reaching up to put her hands on his cheeks, “ stop . You’re healthy now, and you’ll be healthy later. We’re going to have plenty of other holidays.”
    “We don’t know that.”
    “ I do ,” she said. She kissed him again. “I’ll see you at Christmas.”

    December descended upon us with sub-zero temperatures and a wet, heavy snow that stripped any remaining leaves from the trees and brought branches crashing to the ground. Nick and I continued to walk his dogs every evening after dinner, shivering as we hurried along, hugging our arms around ourselves for warmth, but whatever camaraderie we’d shared on Thanksgiving night was gone. I began to notice the way he watched me. Sometimes I thought he was waiting for me to move closer to him, to reach for his hand, but other times, he looked terrified. Sometimes, I was sure I saw relief in his eyes when I said goodnight.
    It took me several days to get up my nerve, but one night as we sat watching TV side by side on his couch surrounded by dogs, I managed to say, “I w-wish you’d talk to me.”
    He didn’t look at me. He barely blinked. His only movement was the slow stroke of his hand on Betty’s head. “About what?”
    “About what’s bothering you.”
    “Isn’t it obvious?”
    “Is it just because you’re sick?”
    He snorted in disgust. “‘Just’ because? Isn’t that enough of a reason?”
    “But you’ve been so different since Thanksgiving.”
    He slumped, the anger he’d tried to hold against me suddenly gone. “This is always the hardest time of the year for me, between Thanksgiving and Christmas.”
    I could understand that to some extent. “Lots of people get depressed around the holidays.”
    He nodded. “It’s just hard for me to see my parents and wonder if I’ll ever have another holiday with them.”
    “There’s no reason to assume you won’t.”
    “There’s no reason to assume I will.”
    “Nick—”
    “You don’t get it. It’s not just about me. It’s about them. I was