Page 10 of Nate Hayes

Nate didn’t try to downplay it. He didn’t sayyou’re safe now,orwe 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.

Butforever.

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’reexactly 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 andpresent.

“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 justwas 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.”

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