Page 14 of Nate Hayes

Nate stood in front of me, his jaw tight, hands steady. But I could see it in his eyes—he hated telling me this. Hated that it came to this.

“Derek’s gone,” he said. “He pulled a weapon. We didn’t have a choice.”

Gone.

The word felt surreal.

No trial. No lingering court dates. No chance he could slip through a loophole again. Just…gone.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding for the two years I escaped him.

Years. I wanted to jump for joy, does that make me a bad person? I didn’t give a damn.

I looked down at Pancake, who was chewing on a belt he found somewhere, like he had control of anything in the house. I bent down, scooped him into my arms—he gave a disgruntled bleat—and turned toward the door.

“Well,” I said, blinking fast and trying not to cry in front of two emotionally complex Navy SEALs, “thanks for the save. Again.”

“Willa—” Nate started.

“I should really get home to my goats,” I added. “They don’t sleep well without their bedtime song.”

“Wait—what?” Nate said.

“Long story.”

I stepped outside, walking fast. I needed air. I needed somethingnormal.

I was halfway down the steps when I heard him behind me.

“Willa, stop.”

I paused.

“Get in the truck. I’m driving you home.”

“It’s not that far.”

“It’s dark. You’re rattled. And your goat’s got one good headbutt left in him. Just let me drive you.”

I hesitated.

Then nodded.

The driveto Honeywood was quiet. I lived over the hill if you walked, but if you drove, we had to take the road around. Unless you had a four-wheeler, you could get there quickly. I was used to walking all over this mountain. Pancake snored softly in my lap while Nate watched the road as if he expected another threat to pop out of the trees.

But when we turned down my lane and the lights of my house came into view, he slowed.

I saw his eyebrows lift. “Wait a second. This is your place?”

“Yep.”

“You’re on the grid?”

“Technically. Got solar panels on the barn roof. Starlink for the internet. Rain barrels. Compost. I’m on the grid, but notunplugged. My goat business is highly profitable online. I have to have Internet as much as I ship around the country.

He parked beside my garden fence and got out, eyes scanning the space.

The porch lights glowed warm over a swing I’d built with my dad. The house itself was simple and strong, with whitewashed siding and sky-blue shutters. A big bay window looked into the kitchen, where a pot of lemon balm still sat on the windowsill.

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