Chapter 20 #2
I felt my body tense like it had its own defense mechanism, like I could become smaller just by willing it. I wasn’t used to this. The stares. The flashes. The demands to be something for other people. I could barely make sense of the buzzing in my ears, the pounding in my chest.
Easton threw me a careful glance, gauging my reaction. I stiffened slightly, unsure how to respond. My heart twisted, my nerves fluttering anxiously.
Then, without hesitating, Easton stepped closer, sliding his arm confidently around my waist. My breath caught at his touch, his warmth radiating against me.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice clear and calm above the chaos. “This is Natalie.”
Just my name. Simple.
But then he added, “She’s the love of my life.”
And just like that, the crowd fell silent .
I stared at him, my mouth slightly open, my eyes wide in disbelief. “Easton…”
He squeezed my waist lightly, never taking his eyes off mine. “No hiding, Nat. I can’t do it. Not with you.”
My throat closed up, something tight and hot coiling in my chest.
One of the girls near the front stepped forward, blinking up at Easton like he’d just rewritten every romance novel she’d ever read. “You mean it? She’s really your girlfriend?”
Easton smiled. Not the cocky grin he usually wore. Not the movie-star smirk that lit up a billboard. This was soft. Real. The kind of smile you gave when you were proud of something. Of someone .
“Yep. She’s the only girl I’ve ever loved,” he said simply. “And the only one I ever will.”
Every last scrap of oxygen vanished from my lungs .
My cheeks flamed, my pulse racing wildly. “You’re insane,” I whispered, barely audible.
“And you’re beautiful,” he replied simply.
I swallowed, somehow managing to turn toward the crowd of shocked faces. “Hi,” I managed awkwardly, lifting a small wave. “I’m Natalie.”
I couldn’t bring myself to say anything else, because the word all of them were looking for— girlfriend —it felt enormous, weighted with meaning and promises I wasn’t ready to publicly unpack. Not yet. Not here.
A ripple of delighted gasps ran through the crowd anyway…like they’d heard something I actually hadn’t said.
See…this was how celebrity gossip got a bad name.
“She loves me,” Easton said to them, to me, to no one in particular. “She’s just stubborn.”
And then he dove straight into the chaos like he was born in it—signing autographs, posing for selfies, answering questions like this was all perfectly normal. Like confessing your lifelong love in front of half the mall was just another stop on the holiday shopping tour.
And every few seconds, his eyes flicked back to me.
Checking.
Reassuring.
Making sure I was still okay.
And against all logic…against every overthinking impulse screaming in the back of my head.
I was.
EASTON
Once I’d signed the last autograph, I turned back to the crowd—only to realize it wasn’t the last.
What had started as a small, excitable group of teenage girls had snowballed into a full-on mob.
A wall of people stretched from the food court to the atrium, pressing in tighter with every passing second.
We were surrounded by a rising tide of shrieks and laughter.
“Easton!” was shouted from every direction, some voices shaky with nerves, others bold, paired with their phone cameras held high.
I felt Natalie tense beside me, her hand still in mine, her grip tight enough to make my fingers ache. She’d been quiet while I signed autographs, her blue eyes darting between me and the fans, but I could feel a storm brewing inside her.
I glanced at her, searching her face for a clue to what she was feeling, but her expression was unreadable—a mix of fire and something softer, something vulnerable. I was sure she’d imagined this moment before, but living it was something else entirely.
I shifted closer, curling an arm around her waist and tugging her against me. “Thanks, everyone,” I called out, my voice carrying above the swell of noise. “I really appreciate the love, but we’re trying to finish some holiday shopping…so we’re gonna need some space. You guys are great.”
For a heartbeat, the crowd seemed to hesitate. A few fans stepped back, nodding sheepishly.
But the spell broke fast.
“Just one more selfie!”
“Easton, wait! What about your new movie?”
“Are you and her really dating?”
Someone grabbed my sleeve. Another person tried to shove a notebook into my hand, their pen bouncing off my chest. A girl lunged closer, clutching my coat. “Please! Just one?—”
A mall security guard appeared out of nowhere, wheezing like he’d sprinted from the food court. “Okay, okay, back it up! Everyone needs to—uh—maintain a…safe perimeter?” His voice cracked on the last word, and he flailed his arms like he was directing traffic with zero authority.
No one listened .
“Shit,” I muttered, grabbing Natalie tighter.
The corridor was swelling with people, a crush of bodies and noise and winter coats closing in from all sides. Phones were raised like torches, fans pressing closer with every breath, their voices climbing above the holiday music.
I tightened my grip on Natalie, my body shielding her from the encroaching mob. The shopping bags in her other hand rustled as she shifted, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Fuck.
Her eyes locked on mine, wild and blazing, and I didn’t wait.
“Run.”
We broke into a sprint, weaving through a tangle of holiday shoppers and glittering decorations like fugitives in a Christmas heist movie.
I barreled past a stand of nutcrackers, clipped the edge of a candy cane display, and nearly took out a reindeer-shaped balloon.
People were staring now…confused parents, wide-eyed kids, a couple of bored teenagers who immediately started recording.
“Sorry! Merry Christmas!” I shouted as we dodged a pack of rogue carolers in matching scarves.
Beside me, Natalie ran without question. Bags flapping against her thigh, hair flying, boots pounding against the tile. I couldn’t tell if she was about to laugh or scream.
Maybe both.
Then I saw it. The Holy Grail of retail salvation.
Tucked behind a pretzel stand, half obscured by a display of scented candles and a snowman in a top hat, was a family restroom. The door was slightly ajar, and I didn’t hesitate.
“In here,” I barked, yanking her toward it. We slipped inside, and I slammed the door shut behind us, twisting the lock hard enough to make it rattle.
The silence was immediate. Jarring.
The only sound was our ragged breathing and the faint buzz of the overhead light. The space was small—white tile, pale walls, a sink and mirror, and a folded changing table—and it smelled faintly like lemon disinfectant and whatever scent they thought would calm a crying baby.
It wasn’t the romantic setting of my dreams, but it was safe, and there were no fans trying to rip my shirt off.
So that was a plus.
I leaned against the door, my hair sticking to my forehead as I looked at Natalie, my eyes drinking her in.
She was panting, her cheeks flushed from the run, her blonde hair a wild mess around her shoulders. Her blue eyes were blazing, a fire in them that made my pulse race, and I felt a jolt of heat shoot through me at the sight of her.
“For the record,” I panted, my eyes locked on hers. “This is not how I pictured our Christmas shopping going.”
Her laugh was short, breathless, a little hysterical. “You think?”
She dropped the shopping bags to the floor with a thud, her shoulders heaving beneath her open coat.
The tight red sweater she wore underneath hugged her body in a way that made my mouth go dry.
She looked like a fever dream dressed in winter colors…
and the way she was looking at me now, like she wanted to tear something apart, had every nerve in my body lighting up like the damn Christmas tree in the atrium.
“Girlfriend?” she purred, her voice lower now, dangerous, taunting. The word dripped with challenge, like she was daring me to take it back. Or daring me to back it up.
She stepped toward me, slow and deliberate, every inch of her radiating fire. My back pressed harder into the door, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t. She had me locked in place without even touching me.
“You told them I’m your girlfriend, Maddox,” she said, soft but lethal.
I swallowed, hard, my throat dry. Her scent—sweet, sharp, familiar—slipped beneath my skin like ink bleeding through paper .
“I know,” I said roughly. A slow smile curved across my mouth, dark and certain.
I stayed exactly where I was, frozen. There was no moving.
Not with her pinning me there like she was carved from every second chance I never thought I’d get.
So I let my words do the chasing, my gaze locked on hers like I was daring her to flinch.
“You are mine, Nat. You said it last night. And girlfriend?” I gave a soft, humorless laugh.
“That word’s not even strong enough for what this is. ”
My fingers grazed her hip, possessive and unapologetic. “There’s no take-backs. Not now. Not ever.”
Her breath hitched, quick, involuntary, the kind of reaction that betrayed everything her mouth hadn’t said yet. Her eyes widened for the briefest second, surprise flickering like a spark before that familiar fire surged back in, defiant and unyielding.
That last thread of resistance was still there, taut and fraying. She’d told me she was mine last night, but part of her was still fighting to believe this was just nostalgia. Just heat. Just a memory slipping through her fingers.
But I knew better.
I saw it in the way her eyes burned into mine. Like she was done running, done pretending this didn’t mean everything. The way her breathing stuttered again, sharp and shallow, like she knew the fall was coming and had already stopped trying to catch herself.
She didn’t need to say a word.
This was her answer.
This was her, charging forward. Raw. Unfiltered. Mine.