Chapter 11
KACEN
The cold nips at my cheeks the moment I step out of my truck outside the community center, but I barely feel it.
String lights stretch from the rafters to the trees, casting a soft golden glow over the courtyard.
Inside, dishes clinking and kids running with mittens half on and frosting on their cheeks.
And she’s standing right in the middle of it.
Natalie.
The orange dress she wore is a little rumpled now, like she’s been hugging too many people, and her hair has started to fall out of its bun. She looks like autumn itself. A little wild. A little warm. And entirely like home.
Her eyes lock with mine with each step I take toward her.
“Your toast,” I say. “It wrecked me.”
She lets out a breath that sounds like a laugh and a sigh all at once. “Wasn’t trying to wreck anyone.”
“You didn’t. Not really. You just… cut straight through all the noise.”
We fall into silence again. This time, it’s not awkward. It’s fuller, brimming with possibility. Waiting for whatever comes next.
"Go for a walk with me?" I ask, looking around as all eyes are on us.
She catches it too, but nods, and together we step back out the door I just came in.
I shove my hands into my jacket pockets, trying to keep them from shaking. Once outside, my breath fogs out in front of me.
“I wanted to run tonight. I almost did. Even got all the way to the edge of town before I turned back.”
Natalie blinks, her expression unreadable. “Why did you?”
“Because I couldn’t live with the idea of you thinking I didn’t care. Of you thinking I was the type of man who bails when things get real.”
She doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and I almost fill the space with more words, more apologies. But then she steps forward just a little.
Her voice is soft but sure. “And what kind of man are you?”
I swallow, heart pounding. “The kind that is tired of hiding. Exhausted from running. I want to stay. For you. For me. For whatever this is. I want to choose it completely, even if it scares the hell out of me.”
She steps forward again, and now she’s close enough that I can see the freckles along her collarbone and the faint shimmer of tears she hasn’t let fall.
“I don’t want you to stay just because it’s the right thing to do,” she says. “I want you to stay because your heart is in it. Because you want a life here. With me. Even when it’s hard.”
My throat thickens. “My heart is in it. You are what brought me back. You’re why I want to stay. You made me want more than just surviving.”
Her hands find mine, fingers cold but certain as they twine with mine. “Then stay,” she whispers. “But not just for me. Stay because you believe in it. In us.”
“I do. More than I have believed in anything in my whole life.”
The smile that spreads across her face is slow and bright, cracking open the ache I thought I’d buried.
She exhales, breath catching with it, and then she laughs. “God, we’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” I say, brushing a thumb across her knuckles. “But I like us ridiculous.”
“Okay,” she says.
And then she kisses me.
It’s not fast. Not frantic. Just soft and deep and full of all the things we haven’t said and all the promises we’re finally brave enough to make.
Her hands slide into my hair, fingertips threading through the strands as if she’s anchoring herself there.
I used to wonder what this would feel like — how her lips would taste, how her body would fit against mine.
It’s exactly what I imagined. And entirely new all at once.
The warmth of her lips, the gentle sigh she gives when I press in closer. It sinks into me, filling all the cracks I never thought could heal. My fingers find the back of her neck. And the rest of the world falls away.
I want to stay here forever, lost in her. The woman who once hated me now holds me like she’s afraid to let go. And I won’t give her any reason to. Not again.
When we pull back, our foreheads stay pressed together, eyes closed, breathing in sync.
We’re both laughing now. A little breathless. A little overwhelmed.
“We’re really doing this,” I say.
She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek, and I brush it away with the back of my hand. “Looks like it.”
Inside, through the windows, I see Ruby slip an arm around Orville. She watches us for a beat, then murmurs something into his shoulder. He chuckles, and she grins wide.
It makes me remember something she used to say back when I was a kid.
“Friendsgiving couples fall the hardest.”
And maybe we do. Maybe we fall too fast, too hard, too messy.
But I don’t mind falling, not anymore. Not when I know she’s falling too.
Not when I finally feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
Right here. With her.