11. Rose
ROSE
Iwoke up expecting to feel horrible.
After all, that was usually how it worked.
I said too much about Evan, let someone see behind the scenes with him too closely, and the next morning the regret hit me like a hangover—that sick, crawling feeling of having given someone a glimpse into the part of my life I tried to hide behind rainbows and smiles that I couldn’t take back.
The feeling never came, though.
I stayed in bed, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for it to hit, but the dread never came. Instead, all I felt was lighter, like I’d been carrying a bag of rocks and I’d set a few down on the little patio table out front and the remaining weight had shifted into something more manageable.
Nolan knew.
Not everything—not the details, not Evan’s name, not the worst of it—but he knew enough. He knew I’d left someone who’d hurt me. He knew I was scared that person was looking for me.
He hadn’t flinched.
He hadn’t tried to fix it, press to know more, or make it all somehow about him.
He’d shown rage, though. I noticed the way his body tensed.
I’d also noticed there had been something else out there with us too—something I couldn’t name but couldn’t forget feeling—a presence beside him, or inside him.
It was large and fierce and just as protective of me as he was.
He’s never going to touch you again. I can promise you that.
His words floated through my head again, and just like I had in that moment, I believed him.
A knock at the front door pulled me out of my thoughts.
I jerked out of bed and padded quietly through the unit to the front door in my pajamas, my heart thundering inside my chest as fear Evan had found me pumped through me. Holding my breath, I peeked through the slats in the blinds on the window and glanced out to see who it was.
Nolan.
He stood on the steps in jeans and a T-shirt, with an expression on his face I couldn’t read. I exhaled a shaky breath, relieved it wasn’t Evan.
Until I remembered what I looked like.
My hair was a disaster. It was half falling out of the bun I’d slept in. I had no bra on. My pajama shorts were an old pair of boxers Evan hadn’t wanted because he didn’t like the pattern, and my tank top was one I’d owned for ten years and it showed.
I was not opening that door.
He knocked again. “Rose, I can see your shadow moving in the window. Open up.”
Shit.
I unlocked the door and opened it a crack, hiding behind it as best I could.
“Morning,” he said.
“Hi.” I didn’t open the door any wider. If he noticed I was hiding behind it, he didn’t say so. “Did you need something?”
“I’d like to buy you breakfast this morning.”
“I just woke up. I’m still in my pajamas.”
“So go get dressed. I’ll wait.”
“Nolan—”
“It’s just breakfast, Rose.”
The word no was right there on the tip of my tongue, but it never fell.
“Come on.” He smiled.
“Give me ten minutes,” I said, and closed the door before I could change my mind.
I rushed back to the bedroom and pulled on a pair of cream-colored linen pants and a light gray tank top that was clean and less see-through than the one I had worn to bed.
I yanked my hair down from its barely there bun as I dashed into the bathroom for a brush.
When I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror above the sink, I cringed.
My eyes were still puffy from crying last night.
There wasn’t any time to remedy it, so I raked a brush through my hair and piled it into a neater messy bun on top of my head before reaching for my mascara.
A few swipes along my lashes made my eyes look a little more open.
Then I brushed my teeth while reminding myself this was just breakfast. It was a neighbor being nice to me after hearing part of my sad story. It didn’t have to mean anything more.
Except Nolan wasn’t just a nice neighbor, and I wasn’t able to ignore that fact anymore.
I opened the door. He was leaning against his truck in the driveway, scrolling through his phone, and he looked up when I stepped out.
“Ready?” he asked.
I smiled. “Ready.”
“Mind if I drive us there? We could walk, but I guarantee by the time we’re walking back from eating it will be hotter than Hades out.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Driving is fine,” I said, relieved because that also meant the trip there would be shorter.
We climbed in, and he backed out of the driveway.
I could feel his presence beside me like an electric livewire, but I tried to ignore it.
However, I did notice that he drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the console between us, and didn’t try to fill the silence with conversation.
The ride was only a few minutes, and then he parked at the cafe.
Before I could unbuckle and slip out of the truck on my own, he was there, opening my door for me.
It was a nice gesture, but definitely not something I was used to.
Delilah’s was already busy when we walked in. I hadn’t been hungry before, but once the smell of bacon and the syrupy sweet scent of pancakes hit me, I was suddenly starved.
Nolan walked us toward a corner booth that was empty. As soon as we sat down, Delilah appeared with two menus in one hand and a coffee pot in the other. There was a smirk on her face, too.
“Well, well,” she said as her eyes bounced between us. “This is a new development.”
“It’s breakfast,” Nolan said, his attention fixed on the menu.
“Mm-hm.” She turned to me. “Tea, honey?”
It surprised me that she remembered I’d ordered tea the last time I was here, but I guess it shouldn’t. She seemed very observant.
I nodded. “Please. Earl Grey.”
“You got it. The french toast is exceptional today. Just saying.” She mossied over to the next table to refill their coffees.
I wanted to say something to Nolan about what she’d said or her in general, but his jaw had tightened the way I’d noticed it did when he was trying not to react to something, so I stayed silent instead.
When Delilah came back, I ordered the french toast on her recommendation, and Nolan ordered eggs, sausage, and bacon. It was enough food to feed two people, but I was sure it wouldn’t last more than five minutes in front of him. After all, he was a large man.
I filed that thought away, planning to use it somewhere in my story, and glanced around, soaking in the cafe. Nolan didn’t talk. He sipped his coffee instead and left me wondering what he was thinking.
Was he regretting inviting me to breakfast?
Thankfully our food came before I could get too lost in my head. The french toast was amazing. Thick, golden, and dusted with powdered sugar.
“So how’s the book going?” Nolan asked around a mouthful of bacon.
It was a simple question, but I could tell it wasn’t the one he wanted to ask. His jaw was tense again. He was holding back, choosing this question instead of the real one he wanted to ask about my ex and the past, and I was grateful for it.
“It’s going,” I said, keeping my eyes on my plate.
“Yeah? You close to finishing?”
“Getting there. I’ve got a few more chapters to go.”
“What’s it about again?”
My fork paused mid-cut. “It’s a romance.”
“I know that. I mean what’s the story? Guy meets girl, girl hates guy, that kind of thing?”
My face went hot. “Something like that.”
“What’s the guy like?”
I took a long sip of my tea. “He’s, you know. The hero. Tall. Protective. The usual.”
“The usual,” he repeated, and I could swear one corner of his mouth was twitching upward into a smirk.
“Can we talk about something else?”
He shrugged his shoulders, but that little smirk was there at the corner of his mouth still. “I’m just asking about your book.”
“And I don’t want to talk about my book.” I shoved a bite into my mouth and chewed like my life depended on it.
He watched me for a second, that almost-smile still pulling at his mouth. Then, he picked up his fork and took a bite of his eggs.
The whole breakfast felt normal. That was the strange part.
Sitting across from someone, drinking tea, talking, eating, playfully arguing about which pie flavor was the best—this was the kind of morning I’d stopped believing existed.
The kind where nothing bad was about to happen, where the person across from you wasn’t calculating anything, where a meal was just a meal.
When we were finished, Nolan waved Delilah down to ask for the check, but she shook her head.
“On the house today.” She winked.
“Delilah—”
“Don’t argue with me. You won’t win.” She shifted her gaze to me, and her expression softened. “You come back anytime, honey. I mean that.”
My throat ached. Not from sadness, from the opposite. From being treated like I belonged here by someone who meant it.
“Thank you.” I smiled.
The drive back was quiet, but it was a different kind of quiet than the ride there. Warmer somehow. Nolan had his window down, and the salt air blew through the cab. When he pulled into the driveway, he parked on his side. All the way to the right instead of crowding my car.
“Thanks for breakfast,” I said, unbuckling.
“Anytime,” he said, climbing out.
I headed straight inside because lingering felt like too much temptation, and I was inspired to write.
I went straight to the desk and opened my laptop.
My fingers flew across the keyboard as I tapped out all the things I’d filed away from breakfast about Nolan’s mannerisms. The way he rubbed the back of his neck when he was deflecting.
The way he leaned back in a booth like he owned the place.
The way his laugh started in his chest before it reached his mouth.
My hero was becoming more real with every detail I borrowed from the man next door, and I was too far past caring to stop.
I spent the rest of the day glued to my laptop, lost in the flow of words. It was the best writing day I’d had since arriving here. Nolan was my muse. I’d come to accept that. It was why over the next couple of days I didn’t try to avoid him.
In the evenings, we’d end up on the back porch and watch the sun go down to the sound of the waves together. Sometimes we talked. Sometimes we didn’t need to.
He never brought up Evan. Never pushed for more than I’d already given him. He just showed up and let me decide how things went between us.
My writing was fantastic. The story was almost done. I was both happy and sad about it.
Driftwood Cove had been exactly what I’d wanted and more. It was starting to feel less like a hiding place and more like somewhere I belonged. The café. The beach. The man on the other side of the wall who’d somehow become the safest person I knew.
My phone buzzed, and I knew who it would be without looking.
Evan.
I came home and you’re still gone.
The room shrank to the size of a phone screen.
The phone buzzed again in my hand.
Where did you go? Somewhere you thought I wouldn’t find you, perhaps? I’ll find you, Rose, you know I will.
There was no “I miss you” this time. No pretending he wanted to talk. This was the real Evan. The one underneath the charm. The one who couldn’t stand losing a thing he considered his. The one I was terrified of.
My hands were suddenly shaking so much I almost dropped my phone, and my chest felt tight.
For a second, I was back at his place, standing in his kitchen with my back against the counter while he told me all the reasons I couldn’t leave him.
Fear powered through me more potent than even in that moment.
I wasn’t there. I was in Driftwood Cove.
How long would it be before Evan found me here, though?
Before I knew what I was doing, I was knocking on Nolan’s front door.
When he answered it, he took one look at my face and motioned for me to come inside.
“What happened?” he asked without hesitation. “Is it that ex of yours?”
I held up my phone and let him read the texts.
His eyes went dark as he read. The air around him grew heavier, and that same strange feeling of something else being here with us returned.
“You’re safe here,” he said. “I promise you that.”
I believed him.