Chapter 28
Eliza
By the time I got home from the Coffee Cabin, the sky had already started its slow slide into gray.
The air smelled like it was going to snow, but my townhouse was warm and still—except for the watchful eyes of two cats perched on the kitchen counter like judgmental gargoyles.
I scratched behind Remy’s ears, nudged Linguini off the breadbox, and filled their bowls even though they weren’t empty.
I moved through the motions, not sure what else to do with myself.
Everything inside me felt too loud. I filled the kettle and set it on the stove, watching the burner glow orange as if it held the answers I couldn’t find.
By the time the water boiled, I still hadn’t decided what I was going to do.
So I poured the tea anyway. The truth was, I was spiraling—and I didn’t know how to stop.
Everything inside me felt like a tangled spool of yarn, and every time I tried to sort it out, I made it worse.
I kept replaying Graham’s words at the Coffee Cabin, the casual threat buried beneath the fake smile.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was dragging Nate into something bad just by existing in his orbit.
And Tilly. God. The thought of her getting hurt in any of this made my stomach clench.
Not that Graham would do anything to her.
But if Nate lost the Pennywhistle somehow or had to find another job—ugh.
So much could happen. He was finally in a place where he could spend more time with her. I couldn’t be the reason he lost it.
I sank onto the couch, my nerves shot, my eyes dry and burning. I didn’t want to be alone—but I couldn’t talk to my sisters. Not yet. They’d want to help, to fix things, to protect me. And that meant charging into battle when I was still trying to figure out if I even wanted to fight.
But I didn’t want to lose Nate. The thought of hurting him was inconceivable. And that made everything worse.
I picked up my phone.
Me: Can you come over? I have to talk to you.
His reply came less than a minute later.
Nate: Be there in ten. I’ll drop Tilly off at my grandparents’ place.
For a moment, I stared at the screen, watching the little bubbles that meant he was still there, still on the other end of all this mess.
The relief was sharp and sudden, cutting through the static in my head.
I set the phone down and wrapped my arms around myself, trying to slow my breathing, counting heartbeats as if that could keep the panic at bay.
I tried to focus on the familiar things—the cats winding around my ankles, the faint whistle of the kettle cooling, the muted sounds of Honeybrook Hollow behind double-paned glass.
Still, every sound seemed too loud, every shadow too deep.
But at least Nate was coming. Maybe that was enough for now.
I had to talk to him. I needed to explain why we had to stop seeing each other. Again. Damn it.
When he knocked, I opened the door and let him in without a word.
He stepped inside, his expression shifting from worried to soft the second he saw me.
“Hey,” he said gently, not pushing, not asking me for anything, just being there when I needed him, which was more than I could ever want.
I let out a breath. “Hey.”
We stood there in the soft quiet of my living room, the only sounds the hum of the fridge and Remy’s light thump as he jumped off the windowsill. Nate opened his arms. I didn’t hesitate.
I walked into his hug and stayed there, his body warm and solid against mine, his hand smoothing down my back like he could iron out the chaos inside me.
He kissed my hair. “You okay?”
“No,” I whispered.
He didn’t say anything. He just held me tighter.
I tipped my face up to his and found him already looking at me, brown eyes full of something I couldn’t name without breaking.
I pressed my cheek against his shoulder, letting myself breathe in the familiar scent of him, the blissful comfort that came with every gentle touch.
For a few moments, wrapped in the safety of his embrace, the world outside faded to a blur, and I let myself believe that maybe, just for tonight, things could be simple.
The quiet wrapped around us, softening the edges of everything I was too afraid to say.
When he kissed me, I didn’t pull away.
I should have said his name. Should have told him everything that was clawing at my chest. But instead, I let the kiss answer for me—slow and searching, like we were both afraid to ask the question out loud.
His hands framed my face, warm and careful, and I slid my arms around his neck, pressing closer because the truth was, I didn’t want to lose him.
Not yet. Not ever.
Some part of me knew I was falling—too fast, too deep—and that scared me enough to make me reckless. I told myself I needed one more moment. One more memory of what it felt like to be held by him. To be wanted. To be safe.
So, I kissed him back.
We moved together like we’d done it a hundred times already, like our bodies knew a language our hearts were still trying to translate.
By the time we reached my bedroom, words felt impossible.
Clothes were shed between soft laughter and breathless pauses, his eyes never leaving mine, like he was checking in with me every second.
When he pulled back long enough to ask, “Eliza, are you sure?” I nodded, even as something inside me whispered that this wasn’t just about wanting anymore.
It was about love.
Being with him was tenderness and heat and comfort all at once—his touch reverent, his mouth gentle, like he was memorizing me. I held onto him, to the way he said my name like it mattered, to the way my heart felt too full for my chest.
And afterward, when we lay tangled in the sheets, my head on his chest, his fingers tracing slow, soothing paths over my shoulder, reality crept back in.
The silence wasn’t empty. It was heavy. Sacred.
And it was also full of everything I hadn’t said.
Guilt settled in my stomach, sharp and unwelcome.
I’d asked him here to talk. To warn him.
To protect him. And instead, I’d let myself pretend—just for a little while—that none of it existed.
Exactly what I’d done since I got into town.
Bury my head in the sand and pretend that my problems weren’t real.
I pushed up onto one elbow, staring at the familiar curve of his jaw, the rise and fall of his chest beneath my hand.
“I don’t think we should do this,” I whispered. “I shouldn’t do this with you.”
Nate went still beneath me. “What do you mean?”
I sat up, pulling the sheet around me like armor. My voice shook, but I forced the words out anyway. “Us. The Taste-Off. All of it. I asked you here to talk, and I didn’t. I just—” I swallowed. “I wanted one more moment with you before I did the right thing. I’m so selfish, and I’m sorry.”
His eyes softened with understanding. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered. I couldn’t look away.
“I’m falling in love with you,” I admitted, the truth burning as it left me. “And that’s exactly why I can’t be the reason you get hurt. Or Tilly. Or the Pennywhistle. I won’t let Graham touch your life because of me. Even if it means walking away from what I want most.”
My chest ached, every breath a fight.
Nate didn’t move for a long second. He just looked at me, eyes searching my face like he was trying to memorize it and understand it at the same time.
Then he reached up and brushed his thumb over my cheek, so gentle it almost undid me.
“Eliza,” he said quietly, “you don’t get to decide what hurts me.”
My breath hitched.
“I know you think you’re protecting me,” he went on, voice steady but thick with feeling.
“And damn, I love you for that. But loving someone isn’t about stepping out of the way so they don’t get hit.
For good people, it’s about standing next to them when it comes. But for me, it means taking the blow.”
Tears burned behind my eyes. “Nate—”
He sat up too, keeping the sheet around his waist, close enough that our knees touched.
“I chose you. No matter what is going on, I will choose you. Whatever Graham is trying to do, whatever mess he’s stirring up—you won’t face it without me.
Not after this. Not after knowing what it feels like to hold you, and have you look at me like I matter. ”
“You matter,” I whispered. “Too much and that’s the problem. I’ll do anything so you don’t get hurt.”
His mouth curved in a soft, sad smile. “But you matter too. And I’m not walking away from that because it’s hard right now.”
“But Nate—”
He took my hands in his, warm and sure. “If you need space, I’ll give it to you. If you need time, I’ll wait. But don’t tell me this—us—was just a goodbye you needed to get through the night. Because it wasn’t for me.”
My chest ached so badly I thought it might split open.
“I don’t want to lose you,” I said. “But—”
“No buts. You won’t lose me,” he promised, like it was the simplest truth in the world. “Not unless you truly want me gone. And Eliza… I don’t think that’s what you want.”
I shook my head, tears finally spilling. “No. It’s not.”
He pulled me into his arms again, pressing a kiss to my hair, holding me like he could keep us together, and keep the world out. “Then we’ll figure it out,” he murmured. “Together. Even if it’s messy. Even if it scares us.”
I clung to him, breathing him in, knowing I was standing on the edge of everything I’d ever wanted.
“I just need a minute, okay? Some space to figure out what I have to do.”
He pulled away, worry deepening across his face. “Eliza…”
“I’m serious,” I said quickly, before he could talk me out of it.
“Graham isn’t going to stop. I think he blames me for everything.
He expected to come back here and be a big shot, and it’s not going as expected.
And I think—I think he’s going to come after you and the Pennywhistle.
I can’t let that happen. I won’t do that to you, Nate. ”