Page 22

CHAPTER 22

CASPIAN

I stir the risotto just as I hear Nate’s knock at the door. Perfect timing. The risotto is ready, and I’ve managed to time everything exactly right. My heart flutters as I hurry to answer, smoothing down my shirt along the way.

When I open the door, Nate’s standing there with snowflakes caught in his hair, his cheeks pink from the cold. He’s gorgeous, and I resist the urge to pull him in for a kiss right there.

“Come in,” I say, stepping aside.

He toes off his snow-covered boots, revealing thick wool socks underneath. There’s something endearing about the way he carefully arranges his boots next to the wall, making sure not to track any snow inside.

“Something smells amazing,” he says, following me to the kitchen.

I’ve set the table with care—nothing too fancy, but nice enough with the bottle of white wine I picked up earlier and the matching plates my mom always insisted on using for proper dinners. “I hope you’re hungry. I made chicken and mushroom risotto.”

“Starving,” he says, settling into one of the chairs. “I spent most of the day trudging through snow-covered forests.”

I serve the risotto, watching his face as he takes his first bite. His eyes close briefly in appreciation, and I feel a warm glow of satisfaction.

“This is incredible,” he says after swallowing. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“My mom,” I say, pouring us each a glass of wine. “It was one of her specialties. We used to make it together all the time.” I pause, twirling my fork in the creamy rice.

Nate’s expression shifts slightly. “Actually, I wanted to ask about your mom at Lottie’s party, but I was a bit…distracted at the time.”

“Distracted?” A small smile plays at my lips. “By what?”

He clears his throat, pushing a mushroom around his plate. “Well, that Felix guy seemed pretty cozy with you,” he mutters, not quite meeting my eyes.

I laugh. “Felix? He’s just a friend. Actually, he’s becoming a good friend, but that’s all.”

“Oh.” Nate’s cheeks flush slightly, and he takes a quick sip of wine. “I just thought…”

“Nathan Stone,” I tease, leaning forward. “Were you jealous?”

“No,” he says quickly—too quickly—and his blush deepens. “I was just…curious.”

The warmth that spreads through my chest has nothing to do with the wine. Knowing that Nate might have been jealous makes me feel oddly pleased, even though I know I shouldn’t.

“When my mom introduced you at the party, she said she was your mom’s childhood best friend.”

“Oh, your mom and I haven’t had a chance to really talk about it yet,” I say excitedly. “I hope we can soon. I’d love to hear stories about what my mom was like growing up here. She always talked about Maplewood but not her life in Maplewood, and now that she’s gone…” I trail off, stirring my risotto with the fork thoughtfully. “It would be nice to learn about that part of her life, you know? To hear about teenage Elena before she left to chase her dreams.”

“Do you know anything about your mom’s childhood in Maplewood?”

I sit back on the chair, feeling the familiar mix of love and loss that always comes when I talk about her. “Not really. Only that she grew up here but left after high school. She had big dreams of being a singer.” I smile, remembering her spontaneous kitchen concerts. “She ended up in Phoenix instead, where she raised me on her own.”

“That must have been tough,” Nate says softly.

“Sometimes. But she was amazing at it. She worked as a waitress mostly, but she was an incredible baker. I always told her she should open her own bakery, but she’d just laugh and say she wasn’t a businesswoman.” I feel my eyes getting wet. “That’s part of why I wanted to open Special Blend. It’s kind of for both of us, you know?”

Nate reaches over and takes my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. The gentle touch breaks something in me, and I feel tears spilling over.

“Sorry,” I whisper, wiping at my face with my free hand. “I just miss her so much.”

Without a word, Nate pulls me up from my chair and into his arms. I let myself sink into his warmth, breathing in the lingering scent of pine and winter air that clings to his sweater. His hand runs soothingly up and down my back, and I relax against him.

“So you’re saying that if you’d grown up here, I could have met you a long time ago.”

I lift my head from his chest and give him a playful smile. “Would you have noticed me? Little teenage Caspian with his terrible fashion choices and questionable hair decisions?”

“I would have noticed you anywhere,” Nate says softly, his fingers trailing along my jaw. “Though now I’m really curious about those questionable hair decisions.”

“Oh no.” I laugh, shaking my head. “Those photos are sealed away forever. But what about you? Were you a brooding forest boy even back then?”

“More like the awkward tall kid who kept tripping over his own feet.” His eyes crinkle with amusement.

We finish eating, trading comfortable conversation about our days. After we clean up, I lead Nate to the living room. The snow is falling harder outside now, creating a cozy backdrop as we settle on the couch, me sitting between Nate’s legs with his arms wrapped around my waist.

I lay my head back on his chest and let out a contented sigh.

“Tell me more about growing up in Phoenix,” he murmurs after a moment.

I shift slightly but don’t move from his embrace. “It was just me and Mom, so it was pretty quiet most of the time. I used to love going to my best friend Marcus’s house because it was chaos—four kids, two dogs, always something happening.” I smile at the memory. “But Mom made sure I never felt lonely. She’d sing while she cooked, dance with me in the kitchen, and read me stories. She worked so hard to give me everything.”

Nate’s arms tighten around me slightly. “She sounds amazing.”

“She was.”

“How about boyfriends? Did you leave any broken hearts in Arizona?”

I let out a small laugh. “Not a single one. I was more focused on school and helping my mom at home than dating. Plus, the dating pool for gay guys in my high school was pretty much limited to me and the guy who ended up dating the closeted football captain instead of being interested in me. So, no, definitely no trail of broken hearts left in my wake.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Nate says as he runs his hands down my stomach. His fingers ghost the outline of my panties where my dick is thickening. “Have you always liked wearing lacy underwear?”

I let out a moan when his warm fingers find my cock, and I can’t stop myself from pressing against his hand.

It’s tempting to see where this is going, which hopefully will be with him inside me. Although I’d love to switch it up with Nate. See how the big guy would unravel for me.

“You’re a little quiet over there,” he whispers. “Thinking hard about something?”

I pull his hand from inside my jeans and place it over my chest, where I’m sure he can feel my heart galloping.

“Don’t think you’re getting away with it so easily. It’s your turn. Tell me something about you.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his fingers absently playing with mine. “I was engaged once. Just over a year ago,” he says finally. “To Addy.”

“Addy?”

He nods. “We were best friends first. Everyone thought we were perfect together, and for a while, we thought so too. But then…” He trails off, gathering his thoughts. “She fell for someone else. Hannah is the curator of an art gallery in Burlington. They’re really good together.”

“It sounds like there’s a but in there.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “No buts. Addy is my best friend, but she also hurt me a lot. Everyone works out their sexuality in their own time. I always knew I was bi and liked girls and boys equally, but Addy thought she was straight. It’s not her fault. She didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“That must have been a really difficult time for her,” I say, reaching out for Nate’s hand and placing it between mine.

“It was. It hurt to see her struggle so much and not know why. Then, one day, she told me we needed to call off the engagement because she was in love with someone else. A woman.”

I process this information, wondering if this explains why he was alone on New Year’s Eve in Burlington. Why he seems so cautious sometimes. “Thank you for telling me,” I say softly.

I’m about to tell him that I think we hooked up on New Year’s Eve when he turns my head a little to face him, leans down, and kisses me, soft and sweet at first, then deeper. When we break apart, he rests his forehead against mine, and I lose the courage to tell him.

As much as I’m certain it’s him, what if…he’s not?

“So,” he asks, his voice low and rough, “what’s for dessert?”

I shift in his arms, turning until I’m straddling his lap, my hands resting on his broad chest. “I made spicy chocolate brownies.” I lean in close, letting my lips brush against his ear. “But that can wait.”

“I should warn you—I might not be around much the next few days. We’re short-staffed, and I need to cover some assessments in other areas.”

“Then we should make tonight count,” I whisper, standing and offering him my hand. His eyes darken as he takes it, letting me lead him toward my bedroom.