Page 80 of Fierce Love
“When we were kids, I said it to you all the time. And you never said it back—”
I open my mouth to protest, and he holds up his hand.
“Which was fine. Ifeltit, and I don’t know that I needed you to name it. But it feels like you’ve got one foot here with me and one foot on the threshold of leaving. And I guess I’m still…” He picks his glass up again and takes another drink. “I’m trying to figure out whatenoughI need to give you to get you to stay with me.” His tone is measured, and I can tell he’s holding himself in check. “Love, money, protection, kids, no kids, house, no house, Bellerive, no Bellerive—there’s literally nothing I won’t give you or do for you or sacrifice for you, but I don’t know how to makemyselfenough, I guess. I guess I just wishIwas enough.”
My heart constricts in my chest, and I know I’m about to damn us both again—that once I cross this line, he’ll make it impossible for me to ever consider crossing back, and I’ll have to. I have to leave—the island and him.
Messing up my own happiness all those years ago was a given, but it guts me to realize I have so thoroughly destroyed his too. And not just his happiness but also, somehow, his sense of self-worth. And he is literally everything.Everything. There is no other man on the planet who is as good, who loves as hard as Nathaniel Tucker.
“You are enough,” I say, my own voice thick with tears. I want to tell him that he’s always been enough, but it’ll ring false when I threw so much away last time. “You were right. I loved you then. So much that leaving the island, leaving you, made me feel like I couldn’t breathe.” My voice catches. “And god help us both, I love you now. I love you. I love you so much.” My chin trembles, and I can hear the shakiness in my voice. I’ve only ever said those words to Kinsley and my aunt, and even then, I guard that emotion closely, use the words sparingly.
Maybe New York is far enough that Celia’s wrath won’t touch me. Maybe we can run away and hide from the fallout together in a way I couldn’t when I was eighteen.
And as he closes the distance between us a second time, telling me over and over again how much he loves me, how he’s not letting me go, I let myself believethisis possible, that there’s a corner of the earth we can journey to where Celia’s long tentacles won’t constrict me or Kin, that there’s a reality where she won’t force me to pay the same price or worse, again. I want a different reality so badly that I refuse to let any other thought in as we strip off our clothes, as he makes my body come alive in ways only he’s ever been able to do, as we fuse together, two hearts and bodies straining toward the ending we both want.
“I love you, Hols,” he says, one hand on my hip, the other cradling my head as he rocks into me. “To the ends of the earth,” he murmurs before he scoops my lips into another kiss, angling his head to get deeper, closer.
But I can’t tell him that I’m capable of the same commitment, as much as I want to, because my heart is too busy breaking and reforming in my chest, desperate for an outcome I’m not sure we’ll get.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Nathaniel
She won’t leave. That’s what I keep telling myself for the rest of the weekend and for the next week as we get closer to having filming for six of the eight episodes completed. There’s still a lot of behind-the-scenes work to be done before it lands on Bellerive’s network for public consumption or before Interflix officially picks it up, but I’m feeling good about what we’ve done, where we’re at.
A second season would mean Hollyn and Kinsley would be less likely to leave, and so I’ve been applying a little bit of pressure on people to make the call early, to invest in the series, to guarantee the show is a success. Under other circumstances, I might be content for the show to live or die on its own merits, but anything that gives me a slight advantage over a return to New York, I’ll take.
She hasn’t said a word about leaving since she told me she loved me, but she also hasn’t made a single mention of staying. And the phrase “I love you” hasn’t crossed her lips again.
It’s like we’re in a holding pattern, and I need to figure out how to tip the scales in my favor. If the fact that she loves me, that I love her, that Kinsley loves Bellerive, isn’t enough to keep her here, her reluctance must have to do with her parents. That’s the only thing that makes sense. She wouldn’t want to live in Bellerive with that cloud over her and Kinsley.
Last I spoke to Owen, the police were doing their due diligence on the surveillance and other information he brought to them, and so I’m just waiting for Mickie to take her final bow and be escorted straight to hell.
Patience has never been my best skill—I grew up too privileged for that. So much of my life, I’ve been able to mold or bend to my desires, and so it’s hard to wait for things to fall into place. Especially when those things might determine the course of the rest of my life.
With Mickie in jail, with a second season on order, with us in love and happy, I don’t see how Hollyn could deny that staying on the island makes the most sense.
And if she leaves but she asks me to do long distance or move to New York, then I’ll do that. It’s not my first choice—staying on the island makes the most sense with the path I see for us. But she’s had a life in New York for almost fifteen years, and I can’t deny that she may have some ties she might not want to abandon. But in my mind, like always, every way the details shake out ends with us together, but I’m still not one hundred percent sure Hollyn believes that.
Tomorrow night, there’s a charity auction and gala at the palace for Bellerive’s Strays, the organization Maren became connected to as a passion project. Hollyn reluctantly agreed toattend, but Kinsley’s acceptance was much more enthusiastic. A trip to the palace is not to be missed, apparently.
Bellerive Stays is also the reason we have Henry in the house. And I have to admit, the pitter-patter of puppy feet has become a favorite sound in the morning or when I arrive home at night. He’s the embodiment of joy, and watching Kinsley love on him through training videos, research about food, and every other aspect that’s caused her to rapid-fire questions my way—as thoughI’msome kind of expert—has been adorable. No matter what the outcome is between me and Hollyn, I’ll never regret giving her this opportunity with him.
When I get home, Hollyn’s in the kitchen baking what smells like strawberry cinnamon rolls. The Steckle family, which was the third home we worked on for the show, made the rolls for the crew, and Hollyn fell in love. She’s been making them once a week since, trying to get them to taste exactly like Martha Steckle’s version.
Other than her banging around with the dishes, it’s eerily quiet in the house. I approach her from behind and slide my arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck.
“Where are Kinsley and Henry?” I ask as I trail a line of kisses down her neck.
She leans into the contact, pressing her ass against me. “Outside teaching Henry some leash manners.”
“No sleepovers?”
She gives a throaty laugh and turns in my arms. “I could suggest it, but she might catch on.”
The oversize sliding door creaks open, and Henry comes bounding in just as I step away from Hollyn to grab a glass from above her.
“I saw you,” Kinsley says. “I’m not stupid, you know. The two of you are always staring at each other like no one else exists. It’s kinda obvious.”
