I nod, even though I’m not sure what to do with the knot in my throat.
He reaches for the blanket and pulls it higher over me, like I’m something fragile he finally sees how to hold.
Then, after a moment, he says, “Come here.”
I hesitate.
But then I shift, sliding closer to the edge of the bed where he kneels. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his chest, my cheek landing over his heart.
It’s solid. Steady.
And when he speaks again, it’s barely a whisper.
“I’ve got you, sugar.”
And for the first time all night, I believe it.
12
That night, I dream of Will.
Hot, tangled, erotic dreams that leave me flushed and aching, like my body’s trying to make sense of what my heart still can’t. But when I blink awake, tangled in too-warm sheets and hazy memory, that’s all they are. Dreams.
Will’s on the floor, one arm slung over his face, soft snores breaking the stillness of the morning. A pillow beneath his head. Blanket half-kicked off. Like last night didn’t happen. Like the walls we tore down in the dark rebuilt themselves overnight.
Even though he comforted me, held me like I mattered, it doesn’t mean anything’s changed. To him, I’m still Sam’s little sister.
Rolling over, I reach for my phone, needing a distraction. Needing something that doesn’t twist the knife.
Nash Kimzey
Hey, this is Nash. How are you doing?
I stare at the message longer than I should. My fingers hover. My stomach twists. Every instinct tells me to pretend I’m fine. But I’m not.
So I don’t lie.
Been better. How are you? How’s Natalie?
His reply comes almost immediately.
She’s good. I explained to her that we just met and that the internet isn’t always a good place.
My heart clenches at the thought of him sitting across from his daughter, trying to protect her from the ugly parts of the world. Explaining how people rewrite your story with half a picture and none of the truth. How something as simple as a kiss can become a headline you didn’t ask for.
My fingers hover again, heavy with the questions I don’t have the courage to ask:
Do you regret it?
Do you regret kissing me?
Do you regret being seen with me?
But before I can type a single word, another message comes through.
I also told her that I’d like to get to know you. That is, if you’re still game.
I blink. And then blink again. In the middle of all this noise, he’s offering clarity. Choosing me.
