Page 4

Willa

T he moment I walked out of the bedroom and saw the envelope in Nate’s hand, I knew.

My stomach dropped.

I didn’t need to see the handwriting. I didn’t need to look inside.

I knew it was from Derek.

It was the same pressure in my chest I used to feel when I came home and found him sitting in the dark, waiting. The same knot in my gut every time he got quiet—and too calm. It was the same voice that whispered, He’s not done with you. Not yet.

Axel didn’t say a word when I walked up. He just nodded once and stepped back.

Nate held the envelope tightly, as if he were afraid it might explode.

And then he handed it to me.

I already knew what it was before I even opened it.

The photo was folded once, creased down the middle like it had been in someone’s pocket for hours. Maybe days.

It was of me and Nate. At the market, two Saturdays ago.

My hand was on my hip. I was laughing. I looked… happy.

On the back, in thick black ink, it said:

SHE WAS MINE FIRST.

I couldn’t breathe.

I closed my eyes, but that didn’t stop the flood of memories—the locked doors, the guilt trips, the promises, the please don’t leave me that always turned into if you go, you’ll regret it.

He’d never hit me.

But that’s not the only way someone can leave a bruise.

“You okay?” Nate’s voice was low, careful. Like he was afraid that if he touched me too fast, I might shatter.

I opened my eyes. “No.”

He stepped closer.

“I’m scared,” I admitted.

Nate didn’t try to downplay it. He didn’t say you’re safe now, or we won’t let anything happen.

He just nodded. “You should be. But you’re not alone anymore.”

That’s what cracked something open in me.

Because I wasn’t used to being scared out loud, I was used to bottling it, hiding it behind goat jokes and lavender-scented distractions.

But Nate wasn’t backing away.

He was stepping in.

And God help me… that was scarier than Derek.

Because my parents loved each other like the world spun for their marriage, they laughed, they danced in the kitchen, they grew old side by side.

My mama died in that cold hospital room, and my dad went three months later.

Not because he was sick. But because his heart didn’t know how to beat without hers.

That’s what love was to me.

Not flowers or flattery.

But forever.

And I’d promised myself—after Derek—that I would never settle for less.

So, standing here now, with a man who made me feel seen and make me feel safe and not like something broken to be handled… was almost too much.

“Why did you let me stay here, Nate?”

“Because I want you safe.”

I searched his face, afraid of what I might see.

“But what if this is too much?” I asked softly. “What if I’m too much?”

He looked at me like I’d just asked if the sky was blue.

“You’re exactly right, Willa.”

My throat tightened.

And when he reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, I didn’t flinch.

For the first time in over a year, I didn’t flinch.

I didn’t mean to say anything.

I’d spent months—learning how to hold it all in. To swallow down the fear, the grief, the ache of everything I’d lost. But standing in Nate’s kitchen, wearing his shirt and clutching a photo that made me feel both threatened and fragile, something inside cracked.

“My mama died alone,” I whispered, eyes fixed on the floor.

Nate didn’t move. Didn’t rush me. He just stood there, still and quiet and present.

“It was COVID. One of the bad waves. She went in with pneumonia and never came out. We couldn’t visit her. Couldn’t hold her hand. She passed in a hospital room with a nurse she didn’t know and a mask over her face.”

My voice broke, and I covered my mouth with shaking fingers.

Nate’s hand came to rest gently on my back, warm and steady. He didn’t say a word. He just was there.

“My dad…” I choked out I still felt the pain from losing my Dad. “He died three months later. His heart just… stopped. He wasn’t sick. He just couldn’t live without her.”

Nate finally spoke, soft and sure. “He loved her that much.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, tears slipping down my cheeks. “He used to dance with her in the kitchen every Sunday morning. Just them and an old Patsy Cline record. And when she died, he stopped dancing. Stopped talking much. One day, he went to bed and never woke up.”

I looked up at Nate through blurry eyes. “That’s what love is to me. Not flowers, date nights, or someone saying pretty things. It’s choosing the same someone every day. Even on the hard days.”

He reached out and gently brushed the tears from my cheek.

“And Derek?” I said, my voice barely a breath. “He was the exact opposite of that. He didn’t love me—he possessed me. He made me feel like leaving him was a betrayal instead of survival. And I stayed longer than I should’ve because I was afraid .”

Nate’s hand cupped my cheek, thumb sweeping slowly under my eye. “You don’t have to explain any of that to me, Willa.”

I swallowed hard. “I just… if I ever fall for someone again, it has to be real . Like my parents. I want someone to love me like my Dad loved my mom.”

He nodded. “I can understand that.”

I gave him a watery smile. “I’m still learning how to trust again. How to believe someone could love me like that without turning into another Derek.”

His eyes didn’t leave mine. “You ever want someone to prove it’s possible… you let me know.”

God. That did it.

Not the kiss I was expecting. Not the sweeping gesture. Just those quiet words that landed deep in my chest like an anchor.

You let me know.

Because Nate wasn’t going to push, he was going to show up.

And somehow, that felt like the most romantic thing in the world.

I was still tucked into the curve of Nate’s side when Axel stepped back into the cabin. He moved so quietly that if Nate’s dog Joe hadn’t let out a low growl, I might not have noticed him at all. But as soon as Joe growled, a giant German Shepherd was there right in Joe’s face.

“Bravo, stand down,” He said, he didn’t say anything else right away.

Just looked at Nate.

And Nate stood, shifting instantly back into protector mode—broad shoulders tight, jaw clenched, eyes sharp.

“What did you find?” Nate asked.

Axel didn’t mince words.

“He’s in Honeywood. At the Whispering Pines Motel, room twelve. Checked in under the name Daniel Holloway. Fake ID. Real enough to slide under the radar, but I ran facial recognition through the security cam at the gas station on Main.” He tossed a small flash drive onto the table. “That’s him.”

My stomach twisted.

“He’s really here, I said, the words sticking in my throat like honey gone bitter, I knew he was here that bastard won’t get near me. I have my goats to care for I can’t stay here hiding from him.

Axel nodded. “Yeah. And he’s been here at least three weeks.”

That was before the envelope showed up.

Before I’d even seen Nate at the farmers market.

“So he’s been watching me,” I whispered.

Nate didn’t hesitate. “He’s crossed the line. He’s not just watching. He’s planning something.”

Axel glanced at me. “We also found something else. His internet history… he’s been searching for stun guns. Handcuffs. How to bypass security systems I’m sure on your cabin.”

The blood drained from my face.

“Oh my God,” I breathed.

Nate was already on the move—pulling a gear bag out of the hall closet, loading a pistol into his holster, checking the lock on the door like life depended on it.

Because now, it kind of did.

He turned to me, calm but deadly serious. “I need you to listen carefully. We’re going to make a move tonight. We’re not waiting for him to make the first one.”

“ Tonight? ” I asked, my heart racing.

Nate nodded. “He made this personal when he brought it to my door. I’m going to finish it before he gets the chance to hurt you—or anyone else.”

Axel handed Nate a tablet. “We’re tracking his phone. He left the motel about twenty minutes ago, headed toward the lake road. Could be nothing. Could be him circling your property.”

Joe let out a soft growl again, ears pricked, tail stiff. At the same time, Bravo stood in front of the door, blocking the entrance to anyone trying to get inside.

I pressed a hand to my chest. “What do you want me to do?”

Nate crossed the room in two strides, cupped my face, and looked me dead in the eye.

“I want you to be brave. Just like you’ve already been. And I want you to trust me.”

“I do,” I said, without thinking.

And I did.

With everything in me.

Because if there were anyone I’d trust to stand between me and the storm, it was Nate Hayes.