I’ve always been her protector, and I don’t want it to stop now.
“Being out on the water quieted my mind when I was young. The open water gave me a sense of freedom, where no one could get to me or lock me down.”
“I’m trying so hard not to sob my eyes out right now, but every time you say something, my restraint weakens.”
“Don’t cry for me, Mads.”
“My tears aren’t only for you, Nate,” she exhales shakily. “I’m so glad you had Rosa, but I can’t help but think of all the other children in the world who have no one to help them.”
Her empathy, as always, cuts straight through me. I hold her closer. It’s a thought that’s haunted me more than I care to admit—especially now, as an adult, knowing how rare that kind of saving grace is.
“Do you have any other questions?”
I can practically hear her thoughts racing, but she shakes her head. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Good,” I say quietly. “Because now that I’ve told you everything, I need something from you.”
Reluctantly, I ease away just enough so she can see my face.Really see me.
“Anything.”
“This is the last time we ever speak about it. No more questions, no bringing it up. My past is just that, the past, and not something I want to relive.”
Her eyes find mine; they’re heavy with sadness, but she nods hesitantly. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.” And I can’t help but lift my lip into a slight smirk. “I know it’s killing you to agree to this. You’re going to stew all night and have a million questions.”
“I think I should have a forty-eight-hour window of question-asking, and then we can leave it in the past.”
“I’ll agree to that if you can leave everything else in the past, too.” I raise a brow.
She blinks, surprised. “I’m sorry, Nate. I just?—”
“I understand.” I cut her off, standing, not wanting her to say words she can’t take back.
She might be engaged, but that won’t stop me from making this right, making her mine again.
I also know Maddie. If she cared enough for that fucking loser, she’d be wearing her ring; it would never leave her finger.
“Where are you going?” The panic in her voice sends a sick thrill through me.
She still cares.
I’ve felt it all night, with the small touches and familiarity that came so easily between us, but now, when her big green eyes look up into mine, I see the panic set in, and I’m loving it because she doesn’t even realize it.
It comes so naturally to her—wecome so naturally—that it hasn’t even crossed her mind that me being here, at three in the morning, after being separated for ten years, is not the norm.
“It’s late, and I think it’s probably time I leave.” She stands after me, and we walk toward the front door.
I need to create some distance between us before I throw her over my shoulder and drag her to her bedroom. Undoing every bit of restraint I’ve managed to hold tonight.
“I didn’t even realize how late it was,” she says, fingers tugging at the hem of her shirt. “Tomorrow’s going to be brutal.”
“Leo knew I was coming. He said he’d shoot your team an email saying you two have a breakfast meeting. Buying you some time.”
She smiles faintly. “Thanks.”
“Can I give you a hug goodbye?”
