Page 62 of His To Unravel
I lean back in my chair, letting silence settle between us for a beat. My eyes never stray from her. She’s trying so hard to convince herself, but I can see the rigidity of her posture and I know—just as I knew when I read her mother’s messages—that going home isn’t what she wants.
I soften my tone, letting it slip into something almost coaxing as I float the suggestion. “You know, you could always spend the break with me.”
Her head snaps up, her wide eyes meeting mine, surprise flashing across her face.
“No responsibilities, no stress—just the two of us. You deserve that, Olivia. You deserve some time for yourself.”
She blinks, and for a moment, I see it—a wistful softness in herexpression, a gentle curve to her lips that isn’t forced. She’s imagining it, letting herself consider the possibility, and I can see how much she wants it.
“That sounds…” She pauses, her voice trailing off before she smiles. “Really nice.”
But then she shakes her head, as though banishing the thought away.
“Unfortunately, I can’t,” she says with a sigh. “My family would never let me hear the end of it.”
I force a smile, tamping down the flicker of irritation that rises at her words.
“It’s just something to think about,” I reply smoothly, folding my hands on the table and schooling my expression back to something neutral. “It’s okay to put yourself first sometimes.”
Her smile returns, tentative but grateful, and she nods before turning her attention back to her plate. I watch as she picks up her fork again, her movements slower now, her mind clearly elsewhere.
She’s still thinking about it. As intended.
I let the topic drop, allowing the suggestion to linger in her mind while I turn my focus inward, to the pieces of my plan that are already beginning to take shape.
I will bide my time. She isn’t ready to hear my invitation yet, to fully consider what I’m offering, butshe will. The Bennetts have made sure of that.
I will show her that she deserves more. That she deservesme.
“Don’t let it get cold,” I say gently, nodding toward her plate.
She glances up at me, her expression softening as she offers a small smile. “Thanks, Nate,” she murmurs before taking another bite.
The satisfaction of watching her savor the food I prepared for her is only matched by the darker thrill of knowing she’s already mine.
I imagine her like this every morning—wrapped in the comfort of my home, free from the burdens of a family that only takes from her. I can give her so much more.
Her family may be content to take from her endlessly, but I’ll be the one to lay the world at her feet.
EIGHTEEN
olivia
The autumn airholds a bite to it, crisp and clear, as I make my way through the bustling paths of Halford’s campus.
Fallen leaves crunch beneath my boots, a reminder of how quickly this semester has swept by. It’s strange to think back to the beginning of it all—the person I was, the familiar rhythm of classes, deadlines, and the casual weekend get-togethers with friends.
Now, I walk through the same spaces with Nathaniel’s ever-present shadow, an undeniable force that makes everything else seem muted by comparison.
A shiver runs down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the thought of him, ofus.
I replay his offer to move in, to make that space, that life, my own.
And for one reckless moment, the idea had thrilled me—the image of coming home to him every night, of his arms wrapping around me as though I belong to him in every sense. It would be so easy to say yes.
But even now, a whisper of hesitation unfurls in my chest—apersistent thread of caution weaving itself between the thrum of want.
How have things progressed so quickly?
