Page 88 of Rockstar's Fake Engagement

Finally, he exhales, tossing the covers off and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “Fine,” he mutters. “Let’s at least drive by.”

The car ride is quiet, but it’s not uncomfortable.

Nate keeps one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. His jaw is tight, and his blue eyes are focused straight ahead, but I can see the tension in the set of his shoulders.

He’s nervous. Not that he’d ever admit that.

I glance out the window, watching the city pass by. Seattle is different from Los Angeles. There’s a weight to it, a heaviness that clings to the misty air. It suits Nate in a way I didn’t expect—brooding, stormy, and deep.

Twenty minutes later, we turn onto a quiet street lined with modest houses, most of them old but well cared for. I glance at him, watching his fingers tighten around the wheel.

“Nate…”

His jaw flexes. “I got it.”

We pull up in front of a small blue house with a wraparound porch and potted flowers hanging from the railings. It looks lived-in and comfortable, like someone has put time and love into it.

Nate doesn’t move.

For a long moment, he just sits there, staring at the house.

I reach over, lacing my fingers with his. “You don’t have to do this.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Yeah, I do.”

Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he opens the door and steps out.

I don’t follow him. This is his moment.

From the car, I watch as he walks up the steps, shoulders tense but strong. He hesitates at the door, exhaling slowly before lifting his hand and knocking.

There’s a long pause. Then, the door creaks open.

And the woman standing there—tall, dark-haired, a little older but still undeniably his mother—lets out a soft, breathless sound.

“Nathan…”

Nate doesn’t speak.

Doesn’t move.

“Hi, Mom.”

Then, after a moment that stretches on forever, his mother steps forward—slowly at first, as if she’s afraid he’ll disappear.

Then, in one swift motion, she throws her arms around him.

I furiously blink back the tears in my eyes, not wanting to miss this heart-melting reunion.

The moment that Nate hugs her back—

Only then do I allow the tears in my eyes to spill silently down my cheeks.

Twenty-Seven

Nate

The knock echoes through me like a drumbeat, and for a moment, I consider running. But Lacey’s watching from the car, and something about her presence gives me strength.

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