Page 113 of The Lilac River

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of her,” Nash said, voice low, almost a caress.

Bertie bounced on her heels. “Does that mean youlikeMiss. Gray, Daddy?”

“You bet he does,” Wilder muttered.

“Back to the kitchen, Wild,” Nash ordered, not missing a beat. “And you,” he added to Bertie, “go pour the drinks.”

Bertie saluted and took off down the hall.

“She made St. Clements especially for you,” Wilder called over his shoulder. “Don’t worry we’re not letting her near the gin yet.”

I turned back to Nash. “Your family’s still a little crazy.”

He grinned. “Yeah. But they’re mine. And now... you’re here.”

And just like that, the joy twisted into fear.

I looked away, heart pounding. Was this real? Was this wise?

“What’s wrong?” Nash asked softly, stepping closer.

"Are we rushing this?" I whispered, the words scraping my throat raw. "Should we be doing this? After I hurt you... after I left for ten years?" My throat tightened painfully, making it hard to speak. "You have Bertie and?—"

"Hey," he soothed, pulling me gently against him, one large hand cradling the back of my head. The steady thump of his heart beneath my ear was the most reassuring sound I'd ever heard. "It's okay. Everything's gonna be okay."

His warmth surrounded me, his scent filling my lungs with each breath. The solid wall of his chest against my cheek felt like coming home after the longest, coldest winter. I couldn't remember the last time I'd let someone hold me like this, like they had the right to, like I was precious.

He kissed the top of my head, his lips lingering against my hair, and I closed my eyes, letting his strength seep into me. In his arms, the knot of fear I'd been carrying for a decade finally started to unwind. Not disappear, it was too deeply entrenched for that but loose enough that I could breathe around it.

"I don't want to mess this up," I whispered against his shirt, my fingers clutching the soft fabric. "I don't want to lose you again."

The pain of the first loss had nearly broken me. I wasn't sure I'd survive a second.

He cupped my face with those big, calloused hands, tilting it up toward his. His thumbs brushed across my cheekbones, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I leaned into his touch like a flower toward sunlight, starved for the connection I'd denied myself for so long.

"No, baby," he said fiercely, his eyes burning into mine. "My dad ruined us. And he's not getting another damn chance."

The conviction in his voice made something fragile inside me begin to heal, a wound so old I'd forgotten it was still bleeding.

His hands found mine and moved them over my heart, holding them there. I could feel my pulse racing beneath our joined fingers, the rhythm speeding up under his touch.

"We're in charge of our future now," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that seemed to wrap around my spine. "And we'll make it work. I know it. You know it. No more goodbyes. Just grocery lists, dumb arguments, and your laughter echoing through my life for the rest of my days."

The simple beauty of the life he described, so ordinary, so perfect, made my breath catch. Not grand promises or sweeping declarations, but the steady, day-to-day intimacy I'd craved without realizing it.

Tears burned at the back of my eyes, but this time they weren't from fear, they were from hope. A dangerous, wonderful hope that maybe, just maybe, we could build something from the ashes of what we'd once had.

Slowly, I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"Good." Nash smiled, brushing a thumb across my cheek, catching a tear I hadn't felt fall. The rough pad of his thumb against my skin sent a shiver down my spine. "Now, let's get those drinks before Bertie has a conniption."

After dinner, while Nash read Bertie her bedtime story, I stayed behind in the kitchen, wiping down spotless counters with Gunner and Wilder.

I was stalling.

“You ever gonna tell us what really happened?” Gunner asked finally. “Nash said it’s your story to tell.”

I stopped; cloth clenched in my hands. “Yeah,” I said. “I owe you both that.”

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