Chapter 25 Nate
Nate
Nancy was holding down the front like a boss, dishing out sass and pie recommendations with equal flair. I leaned against the pass-through counter and watched her wrangle a table of teenagers with the patience of a saint and the dry humor of someone who had absolutely no time for nonsense.
“I’m stepping out for a bit,” I told her.
She didn’t look up. “Tell Eliza she should experiment with lavender lattes next time she’s feeling fancy.”
I didn’t reply, mostly because I didn’t trust myself to say anything that wouldn’t give me away.
Because yes—I was going to see Eliza.
Yes—I’d been thinking about her since the moment I left her side.
And yes—I cared about her more than was probably wise at this point. But I wasn’t walking away from her. Not even close. She was all I could think about.
The Coffee Cabin came into view just as a breeze picked up. She was at the walk-up window, pulling shots, multitasking like it was an Olympic sport. From this distance, I could see that her shoulders were tight, her movements sharp and clipped. Not her usual rhythm.
She was holding it together.
But I could tell she was frayed at the edges.
I parked and walked up slowly, not wanting to startle her. When she turned, her face shifted instantly—something unreadable flickered behind her eyes. But she smiled at me anyway. Not the soft, teasing one I liked best. This one had a little too much effort tucked into the corners.
“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice low.
“Hey,” she replied, brushing a stray hair behind her ear.
“You okay?”
She hesitated.
I didn’t rush her. I knew she’d tell me everything when she was ready. I knew Graham was stirring up feelings she thought she was over. It was only a matter of time before she let it go. Patience was the key.
Finally, she said, “I’m working on it.” She let out a sigh. “Graham was here earlier. He got me shook up. I’m sorry.”
I nodded and didn’t push. Instead, I accepted the cup of coffee she handed me—perfectly made, just the way I liked it. No asking. No notes. She just knew. “Thanks. You always remember.”
“Well, you always drink the same thing,” she said, a trace of a smile pulling at her lips. “I’d call it predictable, but I’m too polite.”
“Wow,” I said. “Dragging me in front of the espresso machine. Bold move.”
She shrugged. “Your order is aggressively average. Black coffee, sprinkle of sugar. Boring.” She looked at me, eyes crinkling at the corners as she grinned. “You’re the opposite of your drink, you know.”
I laughed under my breath, and something in her relaxed. The tension in her shoulders eased. A little life sparked behind her eyes.
She was trying so hard to hold it all together.
I wished I could take some of the weight off her and carry it myself.
I also wished I could just knock him around a bit and get him to forget about her, but I knew better.
She’d hate that. I was about to ask if she wanted company later when a familiar black Range Rover slid into the drive-thru.
Graham.
I could’ve gone the rest of my life without seeing that guy’s smug face again.
Eliza stiffened instantly. “What now?” she muttered.
He pulled up to the window like this was his show, and we were all just extras in it. His eyes flicked over me without even pausing, like I didn’t matter.
“Eliza,” he said, all smooth charm. “I don’t like how I left things earlier.”
She didn’t rise to it. Just asked, “What can I get you?”
“Nothing. I stopped by to apologize—again.” He said it like we were all supposed to be grateful. “I think things got a little intense—both last night and this morning.”
Eliza gave him a flat look. “That’s one way to describe it.”
He leaned out of his window, all casual familiarity. “You know how I can be. I don’t mean it. I just speak my mind. Sometimes I get carried away.”
Like that excused everything.
She gave a tight smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “You said some pretty condescending things. You used to do it a lot.”
He laughed—dismissive, low, a little too rehearsed. “You always were sensitive.”
I bristled.
But I didn’t move—yet. I promised myself I would only step in if his behavior went over the top. She was a grown woman. She could handle herself.
Then he looked at me. A glint of something sharp crossed his expression before he smiled at me. “Winters,” he said, like the name tasted bad.
“Graham,” I replied.
Silence stretched out between us.
He glanced between us again, taking in the space at the counter I hadn’t backed away from.
“I hope there’s no hard feelings,” he said, all false sincerity. “This town’s too small for drama, right?”
I stared him down. “Then maybe don’t start any.” I met his gaze steadily, refusing to let him see any hint of fear.
The air between us felt heavy, thick with things left unsaid. For a moment, it seemed like he might say more, but he just shrugged, as if nothing about this mattered. Then he smiled like I’d told a joke.
Eliza’s hand brushed mine, light as breath, grounding me, or maybe herself.
Graham finally drove his car through the drive-thru and rolled away.
Eliza’s hands shook slightly as she picked up a rag and wiped down the counter for no reason at all.
“Sorry,” she murmured. “You didn’t need to be here for that.”
“Yes, I did,” I said quietly. “I wanted to be.”
She looked at me, eyes rimmed with unshed frustration. Or exhaustion. Or both.
“I don’t know what his game is,” she whispered. “I can’t figure out what he wants, other than to be number one, or whatever.”
“I don’t care what he wants. He won’t get it, whatever it is,” I told her. “But if he tries to hurt you, or make your life harder, I won’t just stand by.”
She blinked fast. “You don’t have to protect me.”
I met her gaze, steady and unwavering. “I know you can handle him,” I said, voice low. “But I want you to know you’re not alone in this, not now, not with me around.”
Her breath hitched. She turned away slightly, like she didn’t want me to see how much that meant. I stood there, watching her steady herself, knowing that I would come back again and again, for as long as it took.
She turned back, calmer now.
“I’m glad you stopped by,” she said softly.
“I’ll always come for you,” I said.
And I meant it.
She huffed out a breath and rested her hands on the counter, bracing herself like she was holding up more than just her own weight.
“Do you think he’ll try something?” she asked, her voice low and tight. “I don’t know what to think anymore, and I hate it.”
I didn’t answer right away. Not because I didn’t have thoughts—oh, I had plenty—but because she wasn’t really asking for strategy. She was asking for reassurance.
“I think,” I said carefully, “he’s used to getting his way. And it’s throwing him off that you’re not staying quiet and letting him run the show.”
She gave a dry laugh. “You mean like I used to?”
“I mean,” I said, leaning in slightly, “that he’s underestimating you. Which would be a mistake.”
Her mouth twitched. “You really think that?”
I nodded. “I know it.”
There was a pause. “I just…” She looked out past me. “I don’t want him to mess with the Pennywhistle. Or you. Especially not because of me.”
“That won’t happen.”
“You can’t know that.”
I reached across the counter, not quite touching her hand but close enough that she could see I meant it.
“You’ve built something real in Honeybrook Hollow, Eliza.
Nobody gets to take that from you—not him, not anyone.
” I watched her shoulders relax, and I knew my words were sinking in.
“Whatever happens, we've got this. Together.”
“Are you sure? I can’t help but think—”
“I know myself,” I said. “And I know I’m not afraid of him. But if that doesn’t help—I also know my grandmother, and nobody messes with her. And your sisters were pretty fierce at the grand opening. Just saying.”
Her eyes searched mine, like she was looking for a crack in the promise. She didn’t find one.
I kept my voice low as I continued. “You’re not responsible for what he does, Eliza. And I can handle it if he tries anything. So can the Pennywhistle. Its reputation is bigger than mine. I’m not worried.”
Her brow furrowed. “He can be petty. And vindictive—”
“I could tell, I think he invited me to his grand opening knowing you’d be there and hoping he could make me jealous or something. I guess he didn’t think we’d show up together.”
She sighed. “Yeah, he likes to get his way. He doesn’t want me back and I made it extremely clear when I left Portland that I never wanted to speak to him again—ever. I don’t know why he keeps coming around.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want anyone else to have you.
Some men are like that. Who knows? But, it doesn’t matter.
The Taste-Off is your chance to let him know, once and for all, that you’re not the same person he messed with before.
After you beat his ass, then he’ll see. And if that doesn’t make him back off, then I will.
If I can beat Piper and Paige to it, that is. ”
She let that settle for a second. Then she reached for a rag again, wiped an already-clean spot on the counter. “You always this good at pep talks?”
“I’ve got a soft spot for gorgeous women with espresso stains on their aprons.”
That pulled a laugh out of her. The real kind. Warm and surprised and unguarded.
“There it is,” I said, smiling.
“There what is?”
“That smile. The one that makes me think I should ask for your number. Again.”
She rolled her eyes, but it was fond. “You already have my number, Winters.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to earn it every day.”
She looked down and shook her head, but her cheeks flushed, and that was victory enough.
“Even when I’m a wreck?” She lingered for a moment, her hand resting lightly on the counter between us.
It felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of us, suspended in possibility.
I caught the gentle tremor in her fingers before she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, gathering herself.
There was a sense of something unspoken, but the warmth radiating from her gaze said enough.
“Especially then.” The quiet hung between us, gentle and full.
I brushed my thumb over her knuckles, then lifted her hand to place a soft kiss on her wrist. “I’m falling for you, wreck or not,” I said, voice soft but sure.
For a moment, everything else faded—the hum of the town, the footsteps on the sidewalk, even the uncertainty that had lingered in her eyes.
It felt like the start of something we hadn’t dared hope for, fragile but real.
She gave me a long look. “You’re really not going anywhere, are you?”
“Nope.” I squeezed her hand gently, letting the silence stretch, hoping she felt the promise in my touch.
“Not unless you tell me to,” I answered, a half-smile tugging at my lips.
The weight of the moment pressed in, and all I wanted was to be someone she could lean on, someone who stayed.
With her, it felt simple, even when it wasn’t.
“I’m trying to get myself back together. I don’t like who I was when I was with him. Seeing him here brought it all back. I should have dealt with it when I came to town, but I buried my feelings instead and tried to forget I was ever with him.”
“I’ll wait. I’m here. Promise.” I didn’t say more. Didn’t have to. Because I’d already made up my mind about her. “You’re worth it, Eliza. But we have more important things to discuss.”
“Like what?”
“When can I make you spaghetti again, that’s what.”
“Is that a euphemism for something?”
I laughed, the sound light and easy, cutting through the heaviness that still lingered between us.
“Only if you want it to be,” I teased, letting go of her hand but holding on to the warmth that remained.
I glanced up at the clock mounted over the doorway.
“I should get going—I have to get to work. I’ll be around if you want company later, or a cherry pie milkshake. ”
She smiled at me, softer now. “Maybe I’ll stop by after I close up here. Might need someone to make sure I don’t get lost in my own thoughts.”
“I’ll save you a seat at the counter,” I said, backing toward the door and giving her a final, lingering look. “Don’t work too late.”
She nodded, still smiling, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. I caught it then—the way her shoulders stayed a little tight, the way she watched the window like she was bracing for something.
I stepped into the cold with the warmth of Coffee Cabin trailing softly behind me.
The sound of her laugh lingered, but so did a thread of unease I couldn’t shake.
Eliza was strong—stronger than she knew—but something was pressing on her, getting under her skin in a way jokes and spaghetti couldn’t fix.
And as I walked toward my truck, I had the sinking feeling that Graham wasn’t done trying to make himself part of her thoughts.
I didn’t know how yet, but I knew one thing for certain: whatever he was doing to her, I wasn’t going to let her face it alone.