“That’s enough,” he says, his voice cold and measured. He levels a gaze at my mother that freezes her mid-smile. “You will apologize to Olivia. Now.”
My mother blinks, her mouth opening and closing as she fumbles for words. “I—I didn’t mean?—”
“You did.” Nathaniel cuts her off, his tone sharp enough to slice through her excuses. “And it’s not the first time. I’ve watched you belittle her, take advantage of her, dismiss everything she’s achieved, and then you measure her worth by what she can do for you—what you think you’re entitled to take.” His jaw tightens. “Let me be clear—Olivia has never asked me for a thing. Not once. And she owes you nothing. Not her time, not her money, and certainly not her happiness.”
The room falls silent, the weight of his words hanging heavy. My father shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his face reddening, but he doesn’t dare interrupt.
Nathaniel’s gaze sweeps over both of them, his voice dropping to a deadly calm. “If I hear so much as a whisper that you’ve hurt her again—emotionally, financially, or otherwise—I will ruin everything you hold dear. I will come for the diner, this house, your reputation. I have the means, the power, and the will to ensure you never recover.”
He lets the threat linger, his eyes narrowing as he adds, “Well?”
My parents stare at him, their faces frozen in disbelief. My mother’s lips part as though she wants to say something, but no sound comes out. My father looks down at his hands, his jaw working as he tries to muster a response.
Nathaniel’s voice sharpens, each syllable biting with precision. “Apologize.” He enunciates the word slowly, his tone a knife’s edge. “Unless you want to test how serious I am when I make a threat.”
My mother’s face blanches, her gaze darting toward me for help that I can’t give. “I’m sorry,” she mutters finally, the words tumbling out with the grace of gravel falling onto pavement.
“Me too,” my father grumbles, barely lifting his head as he forces out the words. “Sorry, Olivia.”
The apologies are hollow, their insincerity as transparent as glass, but Nathaniel doesn’t push further. He simply gives a curt nod, his expression unreadable. His hand finds mine beneath the table, steadying me as he turns to me fully.
“Come, Olivia,” he says, his tone softening just enough to make me feel grounded again. “We’re done here.”
I rise with him, his hand warm and secure around mine as he leads me out of the house. As the cool evening air hits my face, I let out a shaky breath I haven’t realized I’d been holding.
Nathaniel stops beside his car, turning to face me. His eyes soften as he cradles my face with both hands, his thumbs brushing against my skin. “Are you okay?” he asks quietly.
I nod, my voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”
He pulls me into his arms, holding me tightly. “Always,” he murmurs, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel safe.
SEVENTEEN
nathaniel
She dozesoff before we even reach the edge of town.
That should be a relief—a sign that her body has finally surrendered to rest, that the worst is behind us. But all I can think about is how tightly she has folded herself into the passenger seat—like even in sleep, she is bracing for impact. Arms tucked in. Shoulders curled. Face turned toward the window as if the view might soften the memory of what we just walked away from.
The road ahead stretches long and pale beneath the late afternoon sky. Empty and quiet in the way small-town roads are once the dust settles. I keep one hand on the wheel and the other near her knee, like proximity could pass for comfort even as I try to give her space.
My mind replays that final scene in the Bennett family home. How her mother’s expression had faltered, but not because she’d realized she was wrong—because she’d been called out. The way her father didn’t even raise his head. Most of all, how Olivia, the only one at the table with anything worth listening to, hadn’t said a word.
That’s what stays with me now, as mile after mile of open road passes beneath the tires. Not the threat I made, or the wayher parents folded when I said it. Not the apologies that clattered out of their mouths like loose change. But the way she absorbed it all without blinking.
Nothing has ever demanded restraint like sitting at that table and listening to people who were supposed to love Olivia tear her down like it was second nature.
The only thing worse than hearing it was knowing that my perfect, precious girlbelievedthem—at least in some deep, buried place she’d never admit aloud.
Because Olivia doesn’t think she is allowed to want more. Tohavemore.
I’ve worried incessantly that she’ll run because my love for her is too intense. Now, I see that she might run because she doesn’t believe she deserves to be loved at all.
That realization settles in my chest like a boulder I can’t dislodge. Something I’ll carry now without question.
We stop at the hotel to collect our things.
She barely speaks as we move through the lobby, her hand trailing lightly along the edge of the reception desk as we walk past. The staff nod politely, but I don’t meet their eyes. I’m already thinking about the drive ahead, the house, the next hour, the next day.
