Page 28 of His To Unravel (His & Hers Duet #1)

EIGHTEEN

olivia

The autumn air holds a bite to it, crisp and clear, as I make my way through the bustling paths of Halford’s campus.

Fallen leaves crunch beneath my boots, a reminder of how quickly this semester has swept by. It’s strange to think back to the beginning of it all—the person I was, the familiar rhythm of classes, deadlines, and the casual weekend get-togethers with friends.

Now, I walk through the same spaces with Nathaniel’s ever-present shadow, an undeniable force that makes everything else seem muted by comparison.

A shiver runs down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the thought of him, of us .

I replay his offer to move in, to make that space, that life, my own.

And for one reckless moment, the idea had thrilled me—the image of coming home to him every night, of his arms wrapping around me as though I belong to him in every sense. It would be so easy to say yes.

But even now, a whisper of hesitation unfurls in my chest—a persistent thread of caution weaving itself between the thrum of want.

How have things progressed so quickly?

One moment, I was navigating the normal routine of classes, projects, and responsibilities. The next, I found myself swept into Nathaniel’s world, one I am both drawn to and wary of.

As much as I want to stay there, basking in his attention and the way he makes me feel—desired, chosen, seen—something in me is holding back.

I can’t shake the fear, the apprehension that one day, he might change his mind.

What if the fever in his eyes one day cools, and I’m left hollow and aching, wondering how I ever thought I could be enough?

I take a deep breath, trying to temper my thoughts. I need to keep something for myself—a piece of me that Nathaniel can’t touch, can’t take. A safety line—however thin—that I can hold onto if everything falls apart.

The familiar wooden sign of The Nook appears up ahead, and I feel my shoulders relax a little.

Light spills from the café’s windows, casting an inviting glow on the brick exterior.

It’s the kind of sanctuary that reminds me of who I was before everything with Nathaniel began, a place where I can still find some semblance of normalcy.

With a small smile, I push open the door and step inside. The scent of fresh espresso and warm sugar greets me instantly, wrapping around me like a familiar embrace.

I make my way to the counter and order my usual: a latte with an indulgent sprinkle of cinnamon and a blueberry muffin. The barista rings me up and I wait off to the side, watching the rhythmic choreography behind the counter. Once I have my order, I head toward my favorite spot by the window.

As I take the first sip, I give myself a moment to enjoy the atmosphere of this space that has now become sacred, and a feeling of calm settles over me. It’s a brief, precious escape from the weight of my thoughts, the perfect start to an afternoon of catching up.

Opening my laptop, I begin sorting through emails and notifications, skimming through announcements and due dates.

I almost miss it—a simple, unassuming subject line that makes my heart stutter: Interview Invitation from Castor it’s an escape. A chance at a life where I’m not just someone’s daughter, someone’s sister—where I can finally be me , standing on my own. I close my eyes, letting the rush of anticipation wash over me, holding onto the feeling of something big just within reach.

And then, as if on cue, my phone lights up with a string of messages. My mother. The moment cracks like glass, reality seeping in through the excited haze.

I glance down at my phone, heart sinking as I read the messages from my mother—her words fill the screen, weaving a net of duties I can feel tightening around me like a noose.

Mom

Olivia, why haven’t you been replying? Are you having so much fun at your fancy university that you’ve forgotten about your family back home?

Sampson forgot to submit his history paper again. Can you email his teacher and smooth things over? You’re better with those things than I am.

Michael’s still skipping his after-school practice. I told you to have a word with him, you know he doesn’t listen to me.

Also, both boys need to register for summer classes. Make sure to handle the forms when you’re back, I’ve got too much on my plate right now.

The words blur as I scroll through the endless list. Each line is a thread, weaving me back into a role I’ve never asked for but can never seem to escape.

It’s always the same—fix this, smooth that over, hold everything together.

As if I’m not her child myself, trying to carve out some semblance of a life beyond their needs.

An unwelcome memory surfaces—me, seven years old, listening to my parents argue from behind my bedroom door, their voices a muffled tangle of frustration and strained love.

They’d married young and out of wedlock, both juggling demanding jobs, and I’d learned early on that my needs were secondary to the survival of their fragile union.

When my twin brothers, Michael and Sampson, arrived, I instinctively stepped into a role they clearly needed, trying to keep the peace, easing burdens that should never have been mine.

I remember their attempts at praise—always reluctant, always tied to the family’s needs. Like my mother’s reaction when I got into Halford… “Just think of how much better things will be around here when you’re earning enough to help out.”

It was never about my accomplishments; it was about what I could give back, what I could provide. I was never just their daughter; I was a resource, a way to secure their future.

A bitter ache twists in my chest. I’ve worked so hard to build a life of my own, to carve out a life that’s mine, away from the weight of their needs. But the harder I pull away, the tighter they seem to grip.

Nathaniel’s voice echoes in my mind, his suggestion from days ago about spending winter break together.

For a moment, I let myself imagine it—Christmas morning in his arms instead of rushing around trying to keep everything afloat. No frantic calls about my brothers or the diner—just Nathaniel, his lips brushing mine as the world outside ceases to exist.

The temptation nearly undoes me. It would be so easy to say yes, to let myself be swept away by the tidal wave of his attentiveness and affection. When I’m with him, it feels like I’m living in a dream, weightless and cherished in ways I never thought possible.

But how long can it really last?

I glance back at the messages, the demands pulling me out of the haze of what could be and back to what is .

This is my life—the reality of Ashby, of a family that relies on me.

Nathaniel might feel like the answer to everything I’ve ever wanted, but we’ve only been seeing each other for a short time.

Not long enough to trust what we have, to risk losing myself completely in him.

If I let myself fall too far into him, I know what will happen. When the dream shatters—and it will—it will hurt more than anything I’ve endured before.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. The Castor & Wyatt email sitting open on my laptop is an opportunity, a ticket to a life where I can finally break this cycle. The life I want is within reach, if only I can be brave enough to grasp it .

You can’t keep doing this, Olivia. You can’t keep giving pieces of yourself until there’s nothing left.

I look around the cozy café, the clinking of cups and soft hum of conversation a grounding contrast to the storm inside me. Determination settles over me. I’m going to do this, not just for myself, but to prove that I can break free.

The soft chime of the café door bell pulls me from my thoughts. I glance up instinctively, feeling the tug of some invisible string.

And there he is.

Nathaniel’s imposing frame fills the doorway, his chestnut brown hair slightly tousled, a striking contrast to his usual immaculate composure. His blue eyes sweep the room until they find me, and the look of intent in them sends a thrill through my veins, sharp and undeniable.

My breath hitches as he crosses the room with that familiar, effortless confidence, his gaze never wavering.

When he reaches me, he doesn’t hesitate before wrapping me in his arms, his touch both firm and comforting, as if he needs the contact as much as I do.

He leans in, his lips brushing against mine with a tenderness that uncoils something deep inside me.

I melt into him, my hands instinctively finding their way to his shoulders, feeling the strength beneath his shirt, each muscle taut and sure. When he pulls back, his hand settles gently against my cheek, his thumb brushing my skin in a gesture that feels both protective and possessive.

His voice low and steady, he says, “I was hoping to find you here. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” I admit, the truth slipping out before I can stop it.

As if he can’t help himself, Nathaniel presses another kiss to my forehead before declaring, “If it were up to me, I’d never leave your side. ”

A shiver runs through me at his words, sinking into my bones. It feels like he has peeled back every defensive layer, touching the part of me that yearns to be seen, to be wanted without condition.

Right now, with his arms around my body and his voice wrapping around my thoughts, he feels like everything I’ve ever wanted. My heart gallops in my chest, caught between exhilaration and fear of how deeply I’m falling, despite the promises I made to myself just moments ago.

Yet, beneath the warmth that fills me, a small, cautious voice persists, reminding me to hold on to who I am, to stay rooted in my own goals and dreams.

I cannot rely on anyone else to save me.

Slowly, I ease back into my seat, letting my gaze drift out the window. I take in the bustling world outside, unchanged by the storm Nathaniel has brought into my life.

So much has shifted since he entered my world, reshaping it with his intensity, his passion. I’m just starting to realize that it’s only the beginning—how much more might change if I truly give in?

Nathaniel sits across from me, his hand finding mine and firmly interlocking our fingers. But instead of feeling comforted, there’s a weight to his touch—a reminder that he’s everywhere, even in this small, private corner of my world.

This café has been my refuge since I started at Halford, a place untouched by the outside pressures that constantly pull at me. And now, here he is, slipping into this space as seamlessly as he has all the others.

I study his face across from me, the way he seems to belong even here, and it dawns on me with a pang that if I give him all of myself, nothing in my life will be solely mine anymore.

Because that’s who Nathaniel is. He won’t be satisfied with pieces of me—he’ll want them all.

He would slip past every defense I built, as easily as he’s done with everything else.

The weight of that realization settles over me—the increasingly inescapable truth that no matter how carefully I try to guard myself, Nathaniel will always find a way in.

He looks at me, blue eyes searching mine with that familiar, intense gaze. “What are you thinking about, Olivia?” His voice is soft, coaxing, as if he can already sense the distance in my thoughts.

I sigh, the sound barely audible over the background clatter of the café. For a moment, I trace the edge of my cup with my fingertip, gathering the courage to give him even a sliver of the truth.

“Just…how easy it is to forget everything else when I’m with you,” I murmur, keeping my voice steady, even as my heart stumbles. “And I’m not yet sure if that’s good or bad.”

His hand tightens around mine, the pressure subtle but unmistakable, and something flashes across his face—an ache, raw and unguarded, gone so quickly I almost wonder if I imagined it.

A tension coils tight between us—a collision course I can no longer ignore.