Page 48 of His To Unravel (His & Hers Duet #1)

TWENTY-NINE

nathaniel

The December air nips at my skin, though I barely register the cold.

Olivia has my full attention as she clings to my arm, her steps tentative on the ice beneath us.

Her laugh, light and full of unrestrained wonder, echoes across the Wollman Rink, threading through the chatter of others gliding by.

She was eager to try ice skating for the first time and her enthusiasm makes my heart swell.

Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, her breath visible in soft puffs as she looks up at me, her expression a mix of nervousness and excitement. “Don’t let go,” she whispers, her fingers gripping my sleeve tighter as I guide her across the rink.

“Never,” I reply solemnly.

I mean that in every possible way. I want to be the one she holds onto whenever she feels unsteady, the one who gives her moments like these—new, joyful, hers . I want to be the one she leans on forever.

She holds to me with both hands, each shaky step bringing her closer, until there’s barely any space between us. I relish the warmth that radiates from her, even through layers of clothing, and the way her trust in me feels absolute in this moment .

Eventually, her movements grow more confident, her smile broader. She lets go with one hand, though her other remains firmly in mine. I don’t push her to let go entirely. I like the feel of her hand in mine too much, the way it tethers me to something real and good.

Later, we stroll through Central Park, each of us holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate.

Olivia’s gloved hand is snug in mine. She looks radiant, her emerald eyes glittering, auburn hair tucked under a white beanie with a giant pom-pom that bobs adorably as she moves.

A soft smile plays on her lips, one that makes me feel like I’m walking in a dream I never want to wake up from.

I tighten my grip without meaning to, and she glances up at me. “You okay?” she asks gently.

“Better than okay,” I reply, my words carrying a meaning I’m not sure she can understand.

She turns her gaze back to the path ahead, sipping her hot chocolate, but I can’t stop watching her.

Her beauty is amplified by the simple pleasure of this moment.

She doesn’t need extravagant settings or designer dresses to captivate me.

She just exists, and it’s enough to make me want to drop to my knees in devotion.

As we walk, my mind drifts. The past two days have been heavier than I anticipated. Being around my family and the carefully curated facade of civility has taken a lot out of me. This day with Olivia, away from all of it, is a much-needed reprieve.

But I worry I have overestimated myself in bringing her to New York.

I couldn’t bear the thought of her spending winter break away from me.

But now? The cracks are showing. I can feel the careful image I’ve curated start to splinter.

The past is clawing at me, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep it at bay.

The alternative, though, is even worse.

Weeks without her.

Weeks with her back in Massachusetts, far from my reach. What if she realized that life without me is easier, that I’m not worth the trouble? What if she met someone else, or worse, reconnected with someone from her past?

My mind churns at the possibilities, each one more unthinkable than the last. Over my dead body. She’s where she needs to be—right here, with me.

But what if Olivia sees too much? What if I unravel completely in front of her? She has become my lifeline, and if I lose her…I will surely cease to exist. Now that I’ve experienced what it’s like to have her, how could I survive without her?

My grip on her hand tightens again, this time intentionally. I won’t let her slip away. She’s too vital to me. Without her, the darkness will swallow me whole.

“Am I walking too fast?” Olivia asks, pulling me from my thoughts. Her concerned gaze meets mine.

“No,” I say quickly, forcing a small smile. “You’re perfect.”

Before she can reply, the vibration of my phone interrupts the peace. I pull it from my pocket, the screen lighting up with a name I instantly dread.

Suppressing a sigh, I turn away from Olivia and answer. “Father.”

“Nathaniel,” his tone is measured, calm, the kind of voice that commands respect. “Your mother misses you.”

“I saw her yesterday,” I reply evenly.

“You hardly come around anymore, even when you’re back in New York,” he continues, his voice softening, though not enough to hide the weight of his words. “The only time I see you is at the office, which is rare now that you’re back at school.”

I don’t respond. I have nothing to offer him that won’t feel like a performance.

“I’d like to see you, too, my boy,” he finally says. “Join us for dinner tonight. And bring Olivia.”

The request knocks me off balance. I hesitate, glancing back at Olivia.

I had imagined tonight unfolding differently. My plans involved just the two of us, tucked away from the world, where I could keep her close and undisturbed. I wanted all of her to myself—her skin against mine, her breath caught in my mouth, her body warm and pliant beneath my hands.

It’s absurd, the way I still ache for her when I’ve already had her three times this morning alone.

Even last night, with her asleep in my arms after I went down on her again and again, I lay awake—hard, restless, craving more.

I’ve come to accept that wanting Olivia will never subside.

It is an addiction that I have no interest in curbing.

But I know how this game works. Refuse, and Charles Caldwell pushes harder. Accept, and at least I control the board.

My jaw clenches. I don’t want her anywhere near their world, but if she must enter it, then it will be on my terms.

I school my features, my voice steady. “All right. We’ll be there.”

He ends the call without another word. I stare at the phone for a moment longer, tension coiling through my whole body.

“Nate?” Olivia steps closer, concern etched into her expression. “Everything okay?”

I force my shoulders to relax, slipping the phone back into my pocket. “It’s fine. My father wants us to come to dinner tonight.”

She studies me for a moment, her brows knitting slightly. Then, to my surprise, she reaches up and cups my face. “Then we’ll go,” she says quietly. “I’ll be right there with you.”

I close my eyes briefly, leaning into her touch. Her words should be a comfort, but instead, they give life to the question I can’t quiet: Will you always be?

I don’t have an answer. And that’s the worst part.

For the second time in as many days, I find myself seated at my parents’ long dining table.

If it were up to me, I’d be anywhere else.

Preferably locked away with Olivia, far from my father’s watchful eyes and my mother’s attempts to mend fractures in a foundation too broken to repair.

I needed more time to get a grip on my emotions, to fortify my defenses before facing the full force of the Caldwell family at Christmas.

Alas, here we are.

The seating arrangement is identical to our last visit: my father at the head, my mother to his right, and I to his left with Olivia beside me.

Everything else is much the same too. The polished silverware, carefully plated courses, and scent of aged wood mingling with expensive candles wafting through the air.

The only difference is my fraying state of mind and how the walls seem to close in on me more and more with each glance my father sends Olivia’s way.

My darling girl is poised, her posture perfect and her lips tipped into a polite smile, seeming perfectly at ease. If she feels otherwise, she hides it beautifully.

Olivia’s presence is the only thing in the room keeping me steady. She doesn’t belong in this cold, brittle world, but somehow, she makes it feel less suffocating.

However, for every ounce of comfort she brings me, I am bestowed with an equal measure of unease.

I can’t shake the fear that in my desperation to keep her close, she will be exposed to truths that will inadvertently push her away.

A warm laugh from my mother breaks through my spiraling thoughts. “I am very much looking forward to hosting everyone for Christmas dinner again this year,” she says, her voice warm and inviting as she looks toward Olivia. “It’s always such a special evening, isn’t it, Charles? ”

My father makes a noncommittal sound as he cuts into his rack of lamb. “It’s certainly always memorable.”

Mother doesn’t falter, keeping her smile firmly in place as she turns her attention back to Olivia. “I’m so glad that you’ll be joining us this year, Olivia. It’ll be a wonderful opportunity for you to meet the rest of the family. We’re quite lively when we’re all together.”

I feel Olivia shift beside me as she sets her fork down. “Yes, I’m looking forward to it. Thank you for including me.” I look over at her—the smile on her face is genuine. “Please let me know if you need help with any of the preparation.”

My mother’s lips curve in approval, and she gives me a brief glance, almost as if she’s silently acknowledging that I’ve chosen well. The tightness in my chest loosens, but only a fraction.

“Oh no, darling. Everything will be taken care of—you’re our guest!” A genuine warmth seeps into Mother’s expression. “You need only enjoy yourself.”

I’m proud of Olivia. She handles my mother with grace and manages to charm her simply by being herself, just as I knew she would.

But even as that sense of relief settles, my father’s scrutiny is a palpable weight at the end of the table. His gaze is sharp and calculating as it flicks between Olivia and me. I can feel his questions hanging in the air like a trap waiting to be sprung.

“Massachusetts,” my father begins, his tone casual but deliberate. “Nathaniel mentioned that’s where you’re from. Ashby, isn’t it?”

Olivia turns toward him, offering a polite smile. “That’s right. Ashby’s a small town, but I’ve always liked its quiet charm.”