My world tilts, sharp and disorienting.
At first it’s just a shape, a silhouette.But then the details sharpen, like my vision has been waiting for him, like my body recognizes him before my mind can form his name.
Ice floods my bloodstream then heats like a contradictory shockwave.
Nate is standing there in a navy suit that fits him in that maddening, effortless way.His hair is slightly damp, like he rushed to get here but still managed to look like sin wrapped in silk.
And then he sees me.His gaze finds mine like it’s inevitable, like it’s muscle memory.
The room collapses into a soft, distant hum.
Laughter blurs while conversation dissolves.
There’s only him.
And the space between us—charged, impossible, magnetic.
My heartbeat stutters, then surges with enough force to make me lightheaded.I feel the pull deep in my ribs, an ache that’s half memory, half something still alive.
He starts walking toward me.
Not rushed.
Not hesitant.
Just certain and focused.
Every person who tries to stop him gets a polite smile, a gentle nod, but his eyes never leave mine.It’s like watching a storm move with intention.
Like watching destiny approach in tailored navy.
The closer he gets, the more I feel him—before he even reaches me.The warmth rolling off him.The faint trace of his cologne.
When he finally stops in front of me, the world narrows to a single point.I’m aware of my heartbeat in every inch of my body, aware of the air thinning, aware that my life has pivoted on an axis without asking for permission.
He’s close enough now that I can see the fleck of gold in his eyes, the slight unevenness of his hairline where he used to push it back, the familiar way his chest rises when he’s holding something back.
“Hi,” he says, his voice low, rough, like he’s been breathing the same shock I have.
“Hi,” I manage, my voice barely more than breath.“You came.”
“I did.”His voice dips even softer, meant only for me.
“I thought you weren’t coming back.”
A slow smile curves at the corner of his mouth, and something inside me clenches tightly.How can someone’s expression feel like a hand closing around your ribs?
“Told you,” he murmurs, “never goodbye.Just see you soon.”
And the way he says it—like a promise, like a truth, like a thread pulling tight between us—ignites something low and dangerous in me.
Something that feels a lot like remembering who I was with him.
And who I still might be.
CHAPTER12
MENDING WHAT’S BROKEN
