22. Nash
Chapter 22
Nash
T he fluorescent lights of the hospital waiting room hummed faintly, casting an unnatural glow over us all. Willow sat beside me, her hands folded tightly in her lap, while Billie paced the length of the hallway, mumbling to herself about horses and safety precautions. The residents huddled together, Clara resting her head on Benjamin’s shoulder while Simon tapped his fingers on his knees in a rhythmic, soothing pattern.
I didn’t know how long we’d been there. Time stretched and twisted, marked only by the occasional sound of footsteps echoing down the sterile hallways. The nurse had come out once, saying Dawn was stable but listing a litany of injuries—a broken arm, a dislocated shoulder, bruises that painted her hips and legs. Hearing it all felt like a punch to the gut, but I clung to the word “stable” like a lifeline.
Finally, hours later, a doctor appeared. “She’s awake. Family can go in first, two at a time.”
Willow and Billie stood immediately, their movements brisk but edged with relief. The residents stayed behind, murmuring softly among themselves. I stayed rooted to my chair, not daring to move.
Benjamin shuffled over, his face serious and his movements deliberate. He dropped into the seat next to me and clasped his hands tightly, his knuckles turning white.
“You okay, Ben?” I asked softly, glancing at him.
He nodded slowly but didn’t look at me. “Dawn’s strong,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with worry. “She’s the strongest.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, leaning back in my chair. “She is.”
He finally turned his head toward me, his brow furrowed in concentration. “She takes care of us—me, Clara, and Simon. She makes sure we’re happy and safe.” He paused, swallowing hard. “Sometimes she’s tired or sad, but she still smiles for us.”
I nodded, my chest tightening at his words. “I know, Ben. She’s amazing.”
Benjamin’s expression grew more intense, his eyes searching mine. “Do you love her?”
The question caught me off guard, but I didn’t hesitate. I knew that my feelings for this woman were rooted deep inside of me. Dawn had attached herself to my heart insidiously, and she wasn’t going anywhere. I wouldn’t let her. “Yeah, I love her. More than anything.”
His lips quivered upward in a small, knowing smile. “Good. She needs you. Someone to make her happy, like she makes us happy.” He scratched his thumbnail in a stressed manner, his voice quieter now. “Don’t leave her, Nash. Please.”
I reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I promise, Ben. I’m not going anywhere. Dawn means everything to me, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make her feel as loved and cared for as she makes you all feel.”
Benjamin studied me for a moment before nodding firmly, a spark of trust in his eyes. “Okay. You’re good, Nash. Dawn deserves good.”
His words hit me harder than I expected, filling me with both gratitude and responsibility. “Thanks, buddy. That means a lot.”
He leaned back in his chair, his demeanor relaxing slightly. “I think she’ll want to see you. She’s happier when you’re there.”
I smiled, standing up and giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “Well, she makes me happier too. And don’t worry—she’s going to be okay.”
Benjamin nodded, his confidence in her unwavering. “She always is.”
Willow and Billie exited her room after some time, tiredness lacing the lines of their faces. “We need to go back to the ranch. Can you stay with her?” asked her sister.
I agreed with a lump in my throat as I walked down the hallway, each step heavier than the last. When I pushed open the door to her room, Dawn looked up, her face pale but her eyes bright with recognition.
“Hey, cowboy,” she said, her voice raspy but warm.
I laughed despite myself, the sound breaking through the tension in my chest. “Hey, princess.”
Her arm was in a sling, her other hand resting on the blanket. I hesitated at the edge of the room until she gestured for me to come closer.
“Everyone’s okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said, pulling a chair to her bedside. “They were scared for you but relieved that you’re well. It could have been so much worse.”
Dawn smiled faintly. “I’m safe.”
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on us. Only the steady beeping sound of the vital signs monitor filled the silence. Finally, I spoke. “You scared the hell out of me, Dawn.”
Her eyes softened, and she reached out with her good hand. I took it without hesitation, her fingers cool but steady in mine. Dirt still clung to her nails, and traces of dry blood were covering her phalanges.
“I wanted to see you. I didn’t have time to find you after the concert with everything going on.”
“It went well, didn’t it?” she said, turning her head slightly toward me.
“It was perfect,” I said, catching her eyes with mine. “The crowd loved it. Richard’s convinced we’re ready to get back out there, back on the big stages,” I said tentatively, trying to decipher her thoughts.
She smiled, but it seemed distant. “That’s great, Nash. I’m really happy for you. I’m excited to see where your music takes you next.”
Her words cut through me like a blade. I thought…I’d hoped she’d ask me to stay. To tell me she needed me on the ranch with her. Instead, she encouraged me to return to the life I wasn’t sure I wanted anymore.
“You think I should go back?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
She took a deep breath and looked at me, her eyes steady. “I think you belong on a stage, Nash. You’ve got more talent than most people dream of. This…” She gestured around her. “This isn’t your world. It’s mine. And I don’t want to hold you back from what you’re meant to do.”
“But what if I don’t want that anymore?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “What if I’ve found something with you at the ranch that feels more real than any stage ever did?”
Her expression softened, but there was still sadness in her eyes. “Nash…”
“I mean it,” I said, sliding my chair closer. “You talk about what I’m meant to do, but maybe I’ve been wrong about that all along. Maybe it’s not about the stage or the songs. Maybe it’s about finding a place where I feel like I can breathe, where I actually belong, where I can be unapologetically myself.”
Her lips parted, but no words came. I could see the battle behind her eyes—the part of her that wanted to believe me and the part that wouldn’t let herself. I took her hand in mine, passing my thumbs over her pale skin.
“You belong to the stage, Nash,” she said, her voice trembling. “Not to my little ranch. Not to me.”
“Don’t do that,” I said, frustration breaking through my tone. “Don’t tell me where I belong. This is my decision to make, Dawn. Do you know what I felt every time I was out there, on those stages, singing for people I’d never met? I felt empty. Like I was giving everything I had, everything I was, and getting nothing real in return.”
“Nash, I?—”
“No,” I interrupted, the words rushing out. “Let me finish. Since I met you, I’ve felt… whole for the first time in years. And yeah, maybe this life isn’t flashy or big, but it’s honest. It’s real and important. And so are you.”
Tears glistened in her eyes, and she shook her head, eyes almost closing. “You’re only saying that because you’re tired. Because the fame got too heavy. But someday, you’ll wake up and miss it. You’ll resent this quiet life. You’ll resent me.”
“Never,” I said fiercely. “Not for a second. Dawn, I—” I stopped just short of the words, the truth bubbling up inside me, ready to spill over. But I couldn’t. I was terrified that if I said it, it would only push her further away. My heart pounded so hard that I feared it might stop at any given second.
Dawn looked at me, a kind of tiredness only years of stress and battle could bring. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” I said, my voice soft but steady. “I don’t care what you think I should be or where you think I belong. I’m telling you where I want to be. And that’s here. With you.”
The silence between us stretched, heavy and thick. Dawn wiped at her cheek, but the tears kept coming. “You don’t understand,” she whispered. “If you stay, you’ll hate me for it one day. And I’ll hate myself even more for being the one to hold you back from the life you’re meant to have. I can’t… I can’t take that risk.”
She pulled her hand from mine and looked away. The day’s events unraveled before my eyes as I finally stood up and moved toward the door.
Maybe she was right. Perhaps I didn’t belong in her life. But as I stared at Dawn, lying on her hospital bed, hurt and stressed, all I could think was that it didn’t matter where I belonged. What mattered was her.
It finally made sense to me. I couldn’t leave her behind, continuing my life as if these last few weeks were just a blip on my radar.
Dawn and everyone else at the ranch had changed me; they helped me realize that fame and applause didn’t define me. It wasn’t the crowds or the spotlight that made me who I was—it was the quiet moments, the connections, the way my heart felt full just being with them. With her.
They’d shown me that life could be simple and still be meaningful. That I could find joy in the rhythm of the ranch, the laughter at the dinner table, and the way Dawn’s eyes lit up when she talked about her family. I didn’t have to prove my worth to anyone but myself. It wasn’t the life I thought I’d have, but it was the life I wanted.
I ran my fingers through my hair, staring at the empty doorway before me. Dawn thought she was doing the right thing by pushing me away and protecting me from a life she believed would make me feel trapped. But she didn’t see it clearly. She didn’t see that being here—with her—was the first time I’d felt free.
I couldn’t let her push me away, thinking this was what I needed. She didn’t get to make that decision for me. No one was making that decision for me.
I paused, my heart pounding so hard it drowned out every doubt in my mind. Taking a deep breath, I walked toward her. Toward my future.
Dawn turned her head toward me, startled. “Nash, what are you?—”
“We’re not done,” I said firmly, stepping beside her.
Her eyes softened, but her guard remained up. “Nash, don’t?—”
“I’m staying,” I interrupted, my voice steady. “Not because I’m scared of going back to the stage. Not because I’m running from something. I’m staying because this is where I want to be. You are where I want to be.”
Her breath hitched, and she looked away. “You’re just saying that because it’s easier. Because it feels safe right now.”
I shook my head. “You think this is easy? Fighting to convince you that I’m serious about this? About us?” I let out a humorless laugh. “Dawn, before I met you, I was only surviving, getting through every night by drowning myself in alcohol and trying to escape the life I was creating. The music kept me going, but the stardom destroyed me. It destroyed who I was. You were the one who helped me rebuild myself, piece by piece, by showing me what really mattered, by making a small place for me in your life. This is it, Dawn.”
Her gaze held mine, and for a moment, the world outside the room didn’t exist. “Nash…” Her breath hitched, tears glistening in her eyes. “You mean that?”
“With everything I’ve got,” I said, sitting on the bed beside her. “I love you, Dawn. I think I’ve loved you since our first dance.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, and she exhaled shakily. “It’s just that everything is happening all at once, Nash. I’m not sure I can handle it.”
I could see the battle in her mind. How she bit her bottom lip nervously, how she avoided my gaze and turned away. Anxiety was consuming her.
“Dawn, I know that everything feels too much for you right now. And I know I’m not helping by telling you this, but I want to help you. I want to be by your side, and I want to travel through the storm with you. I don’t care about the consequences. My life is here, with you, with your family, at the ranch, building something great.”
“Nash… can you give me some time? I... I don’t even understand myself right now. I need to get back on my feet. And I need to do it on my own,” she said, seemingly exhausted.
I let my head fall and closed my eyes for a second. My chest tightened as her words sank in, the weight of my impulsiveness hitting me like a jolt to the core.
I’d been so swept up in what I felt—so sure that this was where I belonged, that being with Dawn and helping her save the ranch was all that mattered—that I hadn’t stopped to think about the rest of my life still hanging in limbo.
Easton needed me to finish the album, and I’d made a promise I couldn’t just walk away from. As shaky as it was, my career wasn’t something I could abandon either. But right now, none of that seemed as important as her.
“I understand,” I finally said after long minutes, my voice quiet, almost breaking. I lifted my head to meet her gaze, the exhaustion in her eyes piercing me. “Take all the time you need. I just... I hope you know I’m not going anywhere.” Even as I said the words, a heavy ache settled in my chest. I wanted to be her anchor, her shelter in the storm, but I had to respect that some storms had to be faced alone.