When I finished the burrito, I reached for the coffee, wrapping my hands around the thermos and letting the warmth seep into my cold fingers. Nolan was still watching Bella, his profile lit by the morning light that slanted through the high windows. In this light, I could see the freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks more clearly, the way his sandy hair curled slightly at the ends where it was drying, the strong line of his jaw covered in light stubble.
He was handsome. I'd noticed that before, of course—hard not to—but I'd filed it away under Things That Don't Matter. Alphas were handsome. That didn't mean anything. Handsome Alphas had hurt me just as much as ugly ones.
But Nolan hadn't hurt me. Hadn't pushed or crowded or demanded. Had just... sat here, giving me space, bringing me food, asking for nothing in return.
"Can I ask you something?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, rough and uncertain, and I immediately wanted to take them back. My hands tightened around the thermos.
Nolan turned to look at me, his green eyes curious but not demanding, his brow lifting slightly. He shifted his body, angling toward me, giving me his full attention without making it feel like pressure. His expression was open, waiting.
"Of course." His voice was easy, unhurried, his head tilting slightly to one side in that way he had. His hands rested loosely on his thighs, relaxed and unthreatening. "You can ask me anything."
I hesitated, turning the thermos in my hands, the metal warm against my palms, trying to figure out how to phrase what I wanted to know. My teeth worried at my lower lip.
"Why are you being nice to me?" It came out blunter than I intended, almost accusatory, my voice sharp with something that sounded almost like anger. I winced at the sound of it, but didn't take it back. I needed to know.
Nolan was quiet for a moment, considering the question. His brow furrowed slightly, a crease forming between his green eyes, and I watched him think—actually think about my question instead of brushing it off with an easy answer. His jaw worked slightly, like he was chewing on the words before he spoke them.
"Because you deserve it." He said it simply, his voice soft and certain, like it was obvious. Like it was a fact that didn't require explanation. His green eyes held mine, steady and warm.
I shook my head, frustration building in my chest, my hands tightening around the thermos until my knuckles went white.
"That's not—you don't know me. You don't know anything about me. I could be anyone. I could be—" The words tumbled out, sharp and defensive, my voice rising slightly.
"You could be dangerous?" Nolan's mouth quirked slightly, one corner lifting, something almost like amusement flickering in his eyes. But it wasn't mocking—it was gentle, understanding, like he could see right through my defenses to the fear underneath. His head tilted, sandy hair falling across his forehead. "A threat? Someone I should be afraid of?"
I looked away, my jaw tight, my eyes fixed on the straw-covered floor. My shoulders hunched up toward my ears.
"You don't know." My voice came out smaller than I intended, almost a whisper.
"No." His voice was soft, and I heard him shift on the floor, the straw rustling beneath him as he moved slightly closer. Not close enough to crowd me, but close enough that I could feel the warmth of his presence, could smell that eucalyptus-and-honey scent more strongly. "I don't know everything about you. But I know some things."
I looked back at him despite myself, caught by something in his voice. He was watching me with those patient green eyes, his expression open and unguarded, his whole body angled toward me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
"I know you've been hurt." He said it quietly, carefully, his voice barely above a murmur, like he was handling something fragile. His green eyes never left mine, steady and warm. "I know you're scared. I know you expect everyone to let you down, because that's what people have always done." He paused, hisgaze holding mine, his expression gentle but intent. "And I know you're sitting in a horse stall at dawn, running on no sleep, because you promised to watch over a pregnant mare. Even though no one would blame you if you took a break. Even though you have nothing to prove."
My throat went tight. I looked away, blinking hard against the sudden burning in my eyes, my vision blurring. My hands trembled around the thermos.
"That tells me something about who you are." Nolan's voice was gentle, without pity or condescension, just stating facts like he was reading them from a book. I heard him shift again, felt his presence like warmth against my skin. "And the person I see? She deserves kindness. Even if she doesn't believe it yet."
I didn't know what to say. Didn't know what to do with words like that—words that cracked something open in my chest, something I'd been keeping locked away for years. My breath came shallow and fast.
"I don't—" My voice broke, cracking on the word, and I had to stop, had to breathe, had to push down the emotion threatening to overwhelm me. My eyes squeezed shut. "I don't know how to do this."
"Do what?" Nolan's voice was soft, patient, waiting. I could hear him breathing, slow and steady, an anchor in the storm inside my chest.
"This." I gestured vaguely between us with one trembling hand, at the stall, at everything—the food, the kindness, the way he looked at me like I mattered. "Whatever this is. People being nice. Not wanting anything. I don't—" I stopped again, frustrated with myself, with my inability to put words to the tangled mess inside my chest. My hand dropped back to the thermos.
"You don't have to know how to do it." Nolan's voice was gentle, and I opened my eyes to see him leaning forwardslightly, his elbows resting on his knees, his green eyes intent on mine. His expression was earnest, open, every line of his body radiating sincerity. "You just have to let it happen. One moment at a time. One kindness at a time. You don't have to trust me tomorrow, or next week, or ever. You just have to let me bring you breakfast and sit with you while you eat it." He smiled, small and warm, the expression lighting up his whole face. "That's it. That's all I'm asking."
I stared at him, my chest aching with something I couldn't name, my eyes still burning. It sounded so simple when he said it. So easy. Just let it happen. Just accept the kindness and don't look for the catch.
Nothing in my life had ever been that simple. Nothing had ever been that easy.
"What if I can't?" The words came out barely above a whisper, raw and honest in a way I hadn't intended, my voice cracking on the last word. My eyes dropped to the thermos in my hands.
Nolan's smile softened, something shifting in his green eyes—something warm and fierce and tender all at once that made my breath catch.
"Then I'll keep trying." He said it like a promise, his voice low and certain, each word weighted with meaning. Like a vow. "Until you can. However long that takes."
