Stole My Heart 💕

8 - The Stay

Nick could feel the anger bubbling inside him, a wildfire burning through his veins. The sight of Candice choosing Blake over him sent a sharp pang through his chest, an unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling. He wasn't used to this—this gnawing jealousy, this sense of rejection that clenched his gut like a vice. It was irrational, but it consumed him all the same. Why had she chosen Blake? Why not him?

The betrayal stung more than it should have. He wasn't even sure why it mattered so much, why it hit him like a punch to the gut. But as he watched her laugh, her soft, melodic voice floating through the night air as she talked to Blake, he felt his anger flare. That laugh used to be his, those bright, sparkling eyes used to turn toward him first. But tonight, she hadn't even looked his way.

Hanna had been the one to suggest that Blake take Candice home since their routes aligned, but Nick couldn't shake the bitterness it left behind. He had expected—hoped—that Candice would at least glance his way before leaving. Maybe say goodbye. But she didn't. Instead, she was engrossed in conversation with Blake, seemingly unaware of the silent storm brewing inside him.

Fingers tightening around the steering wheel, Nick forced himself to stay composed as he watched them from the driver's seat of his car. Every small smile she gave Blake, every playful tilt of her head, made his blood boil. Candice's eyes sparkled in the glow of the streetlights, her posture relaxed and carefree. She looked happy. The sight of it, of her being so at ease around Blake, unsettled him in a way he didn't want to acknowledge. He hated the way it affected him, hated that she had managed to slip under his skin so effortlessly.

When Hanna and Andy finished saying their goodbyes, Nick knew he had to leave too, but the weight in his chest refused to lift.

The drive to drop off Andy and Hanna stretched unbearably, his mind trapped in an endless loop of Candice. How had she managed to get under his skin so quickly? She was infuriating and mesmerizing all at once. By the time he dropped them off, the silence in the car was deafening. For the first time that night, he was truly alone—with nothing but his thoughts of her.

As he made his way back home, the streets were quiet, almost eerily so. His mind was still preoccupied when a figure darted across the road out of nowhere. His heart slammed against his ribs.

He reacted instinctively, slamming the brakes, tires screeching against the asphalt. But it was too late. A sickening thud echoed through the night, the impact reverberating through his bones as the figure stumbled and collapsed.

His heart stopped. Nick shoved the car door open, stumbling out as his breath came in ragged gasps. His heart pounded violently as he rushed to the fallen figure, dread crawling up his spine.

And then he saw her face. It is Candice.

"No, no, no," he muttered, dropping to his knees beside her. His hands shook as he scanned her for injuries, his mind racing. When her eyes fluttered open, a rush of relief hit him like a tidal wave. She was conscious. She was breathing. But then, before he could say anything, her eyelids drooped, and she fainted in his arms.

"I've got you, baby doll," he whispered, his voice barely steady as he scooped her up. The nickname slipped out effortlessly, as if it had always belonged to her.

Without hesitation, he carried her to his car, carefully placing her in the passenger seat. His fingers trembled against the steering wheel as he drove, each second dragging on as worry gnawed at him. He needed to get her somewhere safe. His house.

She felt impossibly small against him, and a fierce protectiveness surged through him.

"Nick?" Her voice was barely a whisper, her eyes struggling to focus on him before she fainted.