Page 6 of Nate Hayes

I shook my head. “Can’t sleep yet.”

Silence settled between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over her face.

“You ever have something you thought you got away from,” she said quietly, “but it catches up anyway?”

I looked at her. “Yeah. I have.”

She nodded, like she already knew that about me. Like she’d seen something in me that others hadn’t.

My hand twitched on the couch cushion, inches from hers. “You’re safe here, Willa.”

Her eyes met mine. “I know.”

And in that moment, I leaned in.

Not all the way. Just enough that our faces were inches apart. I could feel her breath and smell the lavender on her skin, even after her shower. Her eyes flicked to my lips, and mine did the same.

We were bothright there.

I wanted to kiss her. Needed to.

But I didn’t.

Not yet.

Because this wasn’t about me, this wasn’t about want.

It was abouther.

So I pulled back, slowly, forcing the space between us to open again.

Her gaze lingered on mine for a long beat before she whispered, “Good night, Nate.”

I nodded. “Night, Willa.”

She lay down, curled up with the blanket pulled to her chin, and within a few minutes, her breathing had slowed.

I stood, grabbed my laptop, and settled into the chair across the room.

Then I typed his name:Derek Jacob Holloway.

And started digging.

If this guy thought he could sneak onto my mountain, scare her, and walk away clean?

He had no idea who he was messing with. You never come into my home uninvited. If he thought he could sneak onto my mountain, scare her, and walk away clean? He was fixing to find out how wrong he was.

Derek Jacob Holloway.

Age thirty-five. Born in Portland, Oregon. Currently listed as living in Spokane, but his last recorded lease ended four months ago, and there was no new address filed. That was the first red flag.

The second? A string of sealed court documents connected to a restraining orders filed by an “unidentified female party” just before he started dating Willa.

I leaned forward, fingers flying over the keys.

He wasn’t just a clingy ex with boundary issues.

He was a seasoned manipulator with a pattern—and he’d learned how to stay just inside the lines of legality.

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