23. Dawn
Chapter 23
Dawn
I cried myself to sleep that night. At first, the tears came quietly, slipping down my cheeks one by one. But soon, they erupted into sobs so heavy and raw they rattled my chest. I clung to the hospital blanket, its weight offering no comfort, no solace. It was just a poor substitute for the embrace I needed but couldn’t bring myself to accept.
Nash’s words echoed in my mind, looping relentlessly like a song I couldn’t stop playing. “I want to weather the storm with you,” he had said, his voice steady, laced with conviction. But despite the warmth in his voice, despite the sincerity I felt in every syllable, a cold ache lingered in my heart. The fear gnawed at me—if he gave up everything to stay with me, his life would become a gilded cage. One made of good intentions, but ultimately a cage, all the same.
By morning, exhaustion weighed me down, but I still forced myself to pull together. The harsh flicker of the fluorescent lights in the hospital corridor felt like too much after the silence of the night. I signed the discharge papers with a hand that trembled from fatigue. My sister waited in the car, her face a soft blend of relief and concern. We didn’t speak much on the drive back. Every now and then, I felt her gaze on me, her eyes checking to see if I was still intact. I was grateful for the quiet.
When we arrived at the ranch, the sight of the familiar fields brought both comfort and an unfamiliar dread. This place was my sanctuary, but it had become a burden too—a tether I couldn’t escape. The laughter of the residents drifted on the wind from the barn, and even though I felt a tug of anxiety in my chest, seeing them eased something tight within me. They were my reason, my anchor.
Billie helped me settle into the house, hovering over the pillows and blankets, making sure I was comfortable in ways I didn’t know I needed. I waved her off, managing a small smile. “I’m fine. Go check on the others,” I said, grateful that she didn’t press any further.
It didn’t take long for Willow to show up, her arms full of snacks and a thermos that could only be filled with her signature French vanilla coffee. She dropped everything onto the table and plopped down on the couch next to me, her eyes scanning my face. “You look like hell,” she said with her usual bluntness, though the softness in her eyes told another story.
I laughed weakly. “Thanks, Will. Just what I needed to hear.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, offering a smirk, before settling in. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”
I hesitated for a moment, but the words tumbled out like they had been building up for days. “Nash told me he loves me and wants to stay at the ranch full time.”
Willow’s eyebrows shot up. She straightened, her concern deepening. “Whoa. Okay. And?”
“And I froze. I told him I needed time. But the truth is... I don’t think I’m ready for this. Him. All these changes.” My voice cracked and I quickly dropped my gaze to my hand, twisting the hem of my grey joggers in my lap. “I’ve spent so long holding everything together by a thread, Will. I don’t even know what it feels like to let someone else carry the weight. What if I can’t do it? What if I ruin it?”
Willow’s warmth surrounded me as she moved closer, slipping an arm around me. “Dawn, you’ve been carrying everyone else for so long, you’ve forgotten that you’re allowed to lean on someone too. Nash isn’t offering to fix you. He’s offering to stand beside you. There’s a big difference.”
I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, feeling the cast make it difficult to shield myself from the truth in her words. Yesterday, I’d seen the vulnerability in Nash’s eyes, that glimmer of hope that I couldn’t extinguish, even if it terrified me. Because deep down, I knew that I couldn’t let him drop everything for me, for this life. This life—these responsibilities—weren’t his to bear.
But the truth was, it wasn’t just about Nash or my fear of change. It wasn’t just about losing control of everything I had built.
It was everything.
Billie and Willow had been charging full steam ahead with the Foundation, their energy so contagious that it was overwhelming at times. There were papers signed, plans in place, and meetings to organize. The world was spinning faster, and I felt like I was desperately clinging to the edge, afraid I’d fall off.
I thought about the ranch. About Clara, Benjamin, and Simon. About this family we’d created—everything I’d done to keep the place stable and safe. And now? Now it felt like everything was teetering, a house of cards on the verge of collapse. The life I’d painstakingly constructed was slipping through my fingers, and I couldn’t bear the weight of it.
And then there was Nash. Quiet, steadfast, his heart laid bare. He told me about Easton, about the promise he’d made to his friend, the way their music had pulled him through the chaos of fame. He spoke of a summer love that had shifted something deep inside him, a fleeting connection that had planted doubts in his mind about the life he had chosen. And now? Now he was standing before me, offering that love and commitment I wasn’t sure I deserved.
Letting him in meant risking everything I had spent years trying to protect—my peace, my world. It meant opening a door that, once opened, might never close. I wasn’t ready for another source of worry, another weight to carry.
I couldn’t stop the tears as they flowed, leaving me hollow and exhausted. As I cried in Willow’s arms, Nash’s voice echoed in the back of my mind, reminding me of everything I was trying to push away and everything I feared I might have already lost.