I swipe to end the call, and his face disappears—but it doesn’t leave me. I close my eyes and see him anyway, like he’s been burned into the back of them.
The couch creaks beneath me as I shift down, blanket pulled tight to my chest.
I tell myself I’ll sleep, but I know better.
Because I suspect that Nathaniel Caldwell is already making his next move.
THIRTEEN
nathaniel
The sun is stilllow on the horizon as I pull up to the modest house tucked into the quiet corner of Ashby. Peeling white paint, an uneven driveway, and shutters that look one strong breeze away from giving up, a stark contrast to the image I’ve built of Olivia in my mind.
She deserves so much more than this—a place that reflects her brilliance, her resilience, not one that seems to swallow her whole.
I kill the engine, letting the silence settle around me.
I didn’t need to ask her for the address. The necklace told me everything. As she promised, Olivia hasn’t taken it off since the day I put it on her. It sits delicately against her skin, a piece of me wrapped around her even when I’m not there. And especially during moments like these, I’m grateful for my foresight in planting a tracker on her.
Last night, when I saw her on that couch, curled in on herself, the rage that simmered beneath my calm exterior flared into something far darker.
Her parents had given her bedroom to one of her brothers while she was away at Halford.
They’d stripped her of her space, her comfort, as though she were nothing more than a transient visitor in the home she’d worked so hard to support.How ungrateful,I thought, gripping my phone tightly as she reluctantly explained the situation.
It wasn’t just the indignity of it—it was the sheer audacity.
After everything she’s done for them, the countless sacrifices they’ve demanded of her, they can’t even spare her a place to sleep?Absolutely not.Not while she’s mine.
I step out of the car, the cool morning air biting at my skin.
The gravel crunches beneath my shoes as I approach the door, my heartbeat steady. I didn’t tell Olivia I was coming; I knew she’d try to stop me. She’s so careful about her boundaries, so determined to maintain her independence, even when it’s clear she needs someone to fight for her. Someone to remind her that she’s worth fighting for.
The doorbell echoes through the house, sharp against the stillness of the morning.
I stand there, my hands in my pockets, listening to the soft shuffle of footsteps, the faint creak of the floorboards.
The door opens slowly, and there she is, her auburn hair slightly mussed, her face still creased with the remnants of sleep. She freezes, her wide green eyes locking onto mine, and in that moment, I know. I justknowI made the right decision.
“Nate…” Her voice is a whisper, trembling with emotion. Her eyes glisten, and before I can say a word, she launches herself into my arms.
I catch her easily, wrapping my arms around her and holding her tight. Her warmth seeps into me, chasing away the lingering chill of her absence, and I bury my face in her hair, breathing her in.
She’smine.
I close my eyes, savoring the feel of her against me, the way she clings to me as though I’m her lifeline.
She doesn’t hesitate or try to hide how much she needs me. My chest swells with possessive satisfaction. She’s letting herself lean on me, allowing herself to be vulnerable.
And god, I missed her. It’s been a day—oneday—since I last held her, but it feels much longer. The hours apart dragged endlessly, each one chipping away at my patience. And now, with her in my arms, the world feels right again.
Her breath hitches, and I feel her grip tighten, her face pressing into my shoulder. “You came,” she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion.
“I’ll always come,” I reply softly, the words a promise. My hand slides up her back, resting at the nape of her neck, and I tilt my head just enough to whisper into her hair. “You should know that by now.”
She pulls back slightly, her hands still clutching the front of my coat as she looks up at me, and she opens her mouth to speak. But then, a voice breaks through the fragile peace.
“Well. A man on my porch before eight in the morning. How unexpected!” The tone is saccharine, dripping with faux warmth.
