“Oh my god,” Lucy whispered, practically vibrating. “You’re crushing on the hot diner dad. I heard some things around town—involving you and him and some not-so-subtle flirting, not to mention something happening during the morning rush today? I think it’s amazing. Grandma likes him, you know. She told me she did when we were walking Larry and her pugs the other day.” Larry was her llama, the main character in her children’s books.
“I’m not crushing on him—or anyone.”
“You so are.”
Cara leaned back, smug. “And I bet he’s into you, too. I mean, who wouldn’t be? You’re gorgeous and hilarious. And you have a great ass.”
“Stop it. I might die if you keep this up. I’m not kidding.”
Lucy grinned. “This is the best thing that’s happened to me all week. I love,love—everything about it, watching it happen, the beginning phases, the blushing, the denial, all the feels. This is the best. But I’ll stop. Just promise to tell me all about it when you are in the acceptance phase.”
“It’s not a thing,” I insisted. “We’re friends. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh,” Cara said, biting into her slice of pizza. “And I’m Taylor Swift.”
Lucy pulled out her phone. “Do we need to do a background check on him? Google him? Deep dive his social media?”
“He doesn’t have social media,” I muttered with an eye roll.
“So you’ve checked?” She teased with a smirk. “Anyway, that’s even better. I like a mystery.”
I groaned and flopped back into the armchair, one hand over my eyes. “Why did I come here?”
“Because we’re your sisters,” Lucy said. “And because deep down, you know we love you and would do anything for you. And you know we’re going to like him, too. I already do, in fact. His daughter is adorable, and she’s aLarry the Llamafan, as you know, since you sent them my way during the tree lighting ceremony at Christmas, now known as clue number one.”
I peeked between my fingers, seeing Cara and Lucy watching me with matching grins, waiting for another reaction. For a second, I almost considered spilling everything—every confusing flutter and all the secrets I’d been keeping. But the words tangled in my throat, too heavy to speak, so I laughed it off, trying to sound normal. “You two are ridiculous, you know that?” I tried to play it off like I was fine. I couldn’t tell themabout Graham. About what happened with him. I wasn’t ready. Not yet.
The conversation faded as we turned our attention to the pizza, sharing quiet bites between us. The easy silence felt warm, and for the first time in days, I found comfort in their company, letting my worries slip away as I laughed and ate dinner with my sisters.
But the guilt didn’t go away.
It stayed, coiled in my chest like a warning.
Because the more I started to like Nate, the more I had to lose.
And Graham would try to ruin it all because that’s the kind of selfish jerk he was.
Later that night, once I was home, a heaviness settled in my chest. Guilt and fear tangled together until it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. I stared at my phone for a long time, my thumb hovering over Nate’s name, knowing that whatever I said next would change something.
The truth pressed down on me in a way I couldn’t ignore—if I let this keep growing, I’d only be pulling Nate into the wreckage Graham had left behind. Into the quiet threats and small-town power plays, I didn’t know how to fight yet. And Nate had too much to lose. Tilly had too much to lose. I wasn’t worth the kind of trouble Graham could bring to their door. Not worth the risk of sour looks or whispered doubts or anything that made Nate’s life harder simply because he cared about me.
That thought hurt more than I wanted to admit, because some part of me believed it. That I was still too tangled up, too unsure, too bruised in places that hadn’t finished healing. That wanting Nate didn’t magically make me ready for him—or good enough for the steadiness he offered so freely.
My fingers shook as I typed, my heart aching with every word. I told him I couldn’t see him anymore, that havingGraham in town had cracked something open I thought I’d already sealed shut. I told him I had things to work through and that I didn’t want to hurt him or complicate his life. Hitting send felt like letting go of something fragile and rare—something I hadn’t realized how badly I wanted until I convinced myself he deserved better than the mess I still was.
The message disappeared, replaced by the quiet certainty that it was done—and regret hit me almost instantly. Like a hollow drop in my chest, as if I’d stepped off something solid without meaning to. I set the phone face down, then flipped it back over a second later, like it might change its mind and come back with a different ending.
It didn’t.
I pressed my palm to my sternum, breathing through the ache, already missing him in a way that felt unfair. Missing the steadiness. The friendship. The kindness. The version of myself that felt braver by simply standing near him. I told myself this was what protecting people looked like. That choosing distance was the responsible thing.
Even as every part of me wished I’d waited—just one more minute—before letting go.
Chapter 13
Nate
It had been a little over a week, but Eliza’s text still hit me like a punch to the gut.
