Eleven years ago, she’d tried to move on—had to.But Nash had crept in anyway.In dreams she never admitted to.In thoughts she never welcomed.In the way Connor’s voice used to change whenever his stories drifted too close to him.Maybe even in the walls she’d built against every man since—never letting them past the surface, never close enough to really know her, let alone hurt her.
With a growl, Nash surged up, arms locking beneath her thighs as he hauled her off the floor.Cassie’s legs cinched his waist, holding tight as her mouth crashed against his.
They stumbled into the wall, rattling a windowpane hard enough to jar her back to sanity.
“Wait.”
Her mouth tore from his, hand braced hard against his chest.
She wasn’t just stopping him—she was stopping herself.Years of silence, distance, every reason she’d given herself to hate him—it was painfully clear none of it mattered once they started touching.But touching—fucking—wasn’t going to fix what was still broken between them.
“Nash…wait.”
He slowed with a groan, mouth dragging lower, teeth grazing her pulse before he finally eased her back to her feet.His forehead settled against hers while rain tapped steadily against the windows, filling the silence neither of them seemed willing to break.
“We’ve always been really good at this part,” she eventually whispered.“It’s everything else we can’t seem to get right.”
Nash straightened, the heat of him leaving her all at once, replaced by a chill that had nothing to do with the rain.Cassie folded her arms over her chest, bracing against the sudden loss of warmth—and the fight she knew was coming.
His mouth curved, but it wasn’t a smile.“This the part where you tell me you’re leavin’?”
Her arms tightened.For a second, she almost let him believe it.Let him think she was already halfway gone.Instead, she closed her eyes briefly and shook her head.
“I haven’t booked a flight.”
His shoulders went rigid, then dropped.Dragging a hand over his mouth, he muttered, “What’s stoppin’ you?”
Cassie stared at him.He’d sulked when she left for college, talked shit about New York, guilt-tripped her all the way to the bus station—and then ignored her calls for three straight weeks.
But this Nash sounded different.Almost like he was afraid of the answer.
Cassie bent for her jeans on the floor, digging through the pockets.Her phone, the cassette, and finally the folded note.Straightening, she held it out to him.
Nash’s gaze dropped, going still.
“You remember writing it?”
His jaw flexed.“Do now.”
“You remember what it says?”
“More or less.”
“Then take it.”
His eyes flicked to hers.“Ain’t mine.”
“Stubborn fuckin’ man,” Cassie muttered, unfolding the damp paper with slow, deliberate fingers.
She read aloud: “Tried calling you again today, but your number's disconnected.Guess you changed it.Don't figure I got the guts to ask Con for the new one… Don't think he'd give it anyway.Shit here ain't the same without you.Keep thinking about the last time I saw you.Didn't know it'd be the last, and I said all that stupid shit instead of just holding you like you wanted.Probably do a lot of shit different if I could.If you’re gone for good, I get it.But if you’re not…”
Her throat closed on the last line.She swallowed hard, forcing it out.
“I’ll be here.”
Nash only stared at her, shoulders pulled tight, his expression unreadable.Outside, the storm raged harder now, rain hammering against the windows.When he finally spoke, his voice came out low.Rough.
“Still here.”
