15. Nash
Chapter 15
Nash
I was in trouble.
After my dance with Dawn, my world felt unsteady, as if her presence in my arms had shifted something fundamental within me. The touch of her hands, the warmth of her body so close to mine—it disturbed my reality in a way I couldn’t name.
When I looked into her eyes, a rare, quiet peace settled over me, a peace only she could bring. In that moment, everything else fell away. My career, the headlines, the pressure of my next album, my manager, my best friend—none of it mattered. It was just me and her, locked in a space where even an earthquake wouldn’t shake us.
Except, of course, for her brother, Ben.
The instant he appeared, Dawn pulled away like we’d been caught doing something forbidden. The shift was so stark it left me reeling. The confident, anxious, ever-controlled woman was back in an instant, as if she’d snapped out of something dangerous.
And maybe she was right.
We had an arrangement—one that benefited us both. But when she was in my arms, when she looked at me like that, I forgot what we were even working toward.
Dawn had a way of making me question everything. A month ago, I was eager to reclaim my fame, to return to the stage before thousands of screaming fans. Now, the idea unsettled me. The thought of stepping back into that world no longer felt like a homecoming—it felt like losing something I hadn’t even realized I’d found.
Little by little, I was changing. Becoming someone else. A man who found peace behind the curtain instead of under the spotlight. A man who felt at home in a place that wasn’t his own.
Now, standing at the edge of Skyline Acres, I watched the setting sun cast long shadows across the land. The golden light stretched over the fields, the mountains in the distance painted in soft hues of amber and rose. I should have left hours ago—Easton was waiting in the city for a writing session, and I had work to do. But the thought of leaving this place felt heavier than it should have.
I wasn’t ready to go back.
“Weren’t you supposed to leave an hour ago?”
Dawn’s voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. I turned to see her approaching the old wooden fence where I leaned, the soft glow of the evening light making her freckles stand out against her skin.
“Yeah,” I admitted, studying the way the golden hues caught in her hair. “But I don’t have the heart for it.”
She smiled, a small, knowing thing. “I understand. Once you’ve known the quiet of Skyline Acres, it’s hard to go back to the city.”
Her words settled in my chest, warm and heavy at the same time. She turned toward the fields, but something in her posture changed—tension creeping into her shoulders, something unspoken weighing her down.
I hated that I might be the reason for it.
“Sorry,” I murmured before I could stop myself.
“For what?” She turned back to me, curiosity flickering in her gaze.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable earlier,” I said carefully. “During the dance.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You don’t have to be sorry for anything. It’s just... I’m not used to showing this side of myself. Especially not in front of my brother.” She gripped the top of the fence and swayed lightly, as if she needed the movement to balance herself.
“Well,” I said, turning to lean against the aged wood, “I feel lucky to be the one who gets to see it.”
She smirked, mischief glinting in her eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”
The teasing note in her voice sent my heart into a free fall, but before I could respond, the wood beneath us gave a groaning creak—then snapped.
Dawn yelped as the fence collapsed, taking us both down with it.
I hit the ground first, the breath knocked from my lungs as the old wood cracked beneath me. Dawn landed on top of me, her hands braced against my chest, her face mere inches from mine.
For a moment, we stared at each other, stunned. Then laughter bubbled up between us, deep and uncontrollable.
She let out an ungraceful snort, and that only sent her into another fit of giggles, tears forming at the corners of her eyes as she tried to catch her breath.
“Oh god,” she wheezed, pressing a hand to her stomach. “I can’t believe it finally gave out.”
Still breathless with laughter, she tried to lift herself, but I instinctively wrapped my arms around her waist, holding her there a second longer.
The laughter faded into something quieter. The kind of silence that wasn’t empty, but full of something I didn’t have words for.
Dawn felt weightless in my arms—like a breeze, something delicate that could be gone in an instant.
Her gaze lingered on mine for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Then, as if something between us had shifted too far, she pulled away. She stood and reached a hand down to me, and I took it, letting her pull me to my feet.
“Well,” she sighed, planting her hands on her hips, “another thing I need to fix.”
I smirked, nudging her with my elbow. “Not like it was doing much protecting anything in this state.”
She laughed, and the sound sent a quiet satisfaction through me.
As the last remnants of daylight faded, we wandered across the land in companionable silence. The stars began to flicker to life overhead, their reflections shimmering on the still waters of the lake beside us. Eventually, we reached an old cabin, its exterior worn by time and weather.
“My father built this,” Dawn said softly, running a hand along the rough wood. “He always wanted my sister and me to stay here. The idea of us growing up and leaving Skyline Acres wasn’t something he could accept.”
She smiled faintly, lost in the memory. “He used to say he was happiest when we were all around the table in the mornings—bed heads, pajamas, coffee in hand. Just us, before the rest of the world woke up.”
She stepped closer, pressing her hands against the window, gazing inside like she was searching for something only she could see.
I didn’t interrupt. Some moments weren’t meant to be filled with words.
After a long pause, she exhaled softly. “I get it now.”
“How it feels,” I murmured, “to be most at peace when the people you love are close.”
Dawn turned to me, something unspoken passing between us. Then she simply nodded.
By the time we made our way back to the ranch, the night had fully settled. The air was thick with the scent of dry grass and earth, the only sounds our slow, dragging steps against the overgrown path.
She walked me to my truck, lingering by the driver’s side as I slid into the seat and started the engine.
“Don’t miss me too much, princess,” I teased, shooting her a wink.
She shook her head, smiling. “I think you’re talking about yourself.”
I laughed, but as I pulled away, watching her fade into the darkness of the ranch in my rearview mirror, the lightness in my chest gave way to something heavier.
I was leaving, but a part of me already wanted to turn back.