Chapter 12 #2
“We can face that future together, if you’ll let me be there,” he said softly but firmly.
“If you can’t hear, I’ll get better at sign language.
I’ll find ways to make everything work, Faye.
If Iian Jordan can run a successful business, then the possibilities are limitless.
Besides, you’ll never have to go through any of it alone. ”
Her eyes brimmed with tears. “You say that like life is simple.”
“It is,” he said. “Because it’s you. You matter.
” His thumb brushed the damp corner of her eye.
“You’re brave. You’ve been walking this tightrope your whole life, trying to do it all yourself.
Not to say that your family hasn’t been there, but now that you’ve stepped out on your own, I can be here.
I can be your safety net. Plus, you’ll see just what this town is made of.
How much everyone steps up and shows you how much they care.
” He smiled as she pressed her forehead to his chest, her breath a little shaky as she nodded.
“I’ve never let anyone in like this before.”
He wrapped his arms more tightly around her, holding her against his heart. “Good. Then let this be the start.”
They stood there for a long while—just breathing, just being—until she finally looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes and a soft smile.
“You’re going to regret offering to be with a woman who has unpredictable hearing and a tendency to cry when she’s tired,” she warned.
He grinned, brushing her hair back. “You’ve met my sister. I think I can handle anything you throw at me.”
That earned a weak laugh, which was all he needed to feel her light coming back.
“Come on,” he said, picking up his bag in one hand and taking her hand in his other. “Let’s get you home. And no arguing—sofa, snacks, movies, and zero stress until you see your specialist on Monday. Doctor’s orders.” He winked.
She linked her fingers with his as they walked out to the truck, her grip stronger this time.
And for the first time since that phone call from Lena, Nate let himself breathe fully again.
By the time he turned into the long gravel driveway of the lighthouse, Faye was fast asleep, her head resting against the window, her breathing soft and even. Her hair was loose around her face, and she looked so peaceful it almost hurt.
He shut off the engine, then moved around the truck to open her door.
With slow, careful hands, he cradled her head and eased her into his arms. She murmured something unintelligible but didn’t wake, her body relaxing into his chest. He had to juggle her while fishing his keys from his pocket to unlock the door, but he managed without disturbing her.
Inside, he laid her gently on the sofa and tucked a soft blanket around her, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek before leaning down to kiss her forehead.
“Sleep,” he whispered.
“M’kay,” she mumbled, already drifting again as she turned to her side and pulled the blanket tighter.
Nate stood there for a moment, watching her breathing, then moved quietly through the house.
He brought in his duffel bag and then headed out back to check on the horses, refilling their grain and water, and mucking out the stalls.
The familiar rhythm helped ground him. By the time he returned, he felt steady again.
He showered quickly in the guest bathroom on the main floor, changed into clean jeans and a fresh T-shirt, and headed back out into the living room.
Faye was still asleep.
Her face was turned toward the cushions now, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, her breathing calm and steady. It was clear that she needed the rest, so he let her sleep as he headed into the kitchen.
He scanned the pantry and fridge, then settled on something simple—grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato basil soup from scratch.
It wasn’t fancy, but it would be warm, comforting, and easy to eat.
He chopped onions and garlic quickly, letting the scent fill the kitchen, then added a little cream and a splash of white wine.
He ladled the soup into two wide ceramic bowls and set the golden, crisp sandwiches on plates.
He set everything up on the low coffee table in the living room, then knelt next to the sofa and brushed a hand gently along Faye’s arm.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” he murmured.
She stirred slowly, blinking up at him. “What time is it?”
“Not too late, almost eight,” he said with a smile. “You hungry?”
Her brows lifted at the smell, and she slowly sat up. “That smells amazing.”
He handed her the bowl and helped her get situated with a couple of pillows behind her back.
“I hope it tastes as good as it smells,” he said, settling beside her with his own bowl. “I wasn’t sure what you’d feel like eating, so I went with my favorite comfort food. My mom used to make it whenever Juliette or I was home sick from school.”
“This is perfect,” she said after her first spoonful, her voice still scratchy with sleep but full of gratitude. “Seriously. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
“It wasn’t trouble at all,” he said simply. “I love to cook. This kitchen is amazing,” he added. “I can’t wait for mine to be put back together.”
They ate as they watched television. After they finished the food, he cleared the bowls and came back with two glasses of cold lemonade and two slices of cherry pie he’d found in the freezer and had thawed out earlier. He’d topped each slice with a scoop of French vanilla ice cream.
She smiled as he handed her the plate. “You’re dangerously close to setting the bar way too high.”
He chuckled, settling in beside her again. “Good. I like a high bar.”
They flipped through a few channels until they found an old romantic comedy—something familiar and easy, nothing too loud or emotional. Faye leaned into his side as she ate her pie.
When they were both done with dessert, she rested her head lightly on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her.
“I was scared today,” she said softly after a while, her eyes on the screen but her focus somewhere else.
His arm tightened around her.
“So was I.”
She leaned over and brushed her lips across his.
At that moment, he knew he was a lost man.