Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
nathaniel
The sun is still low on the horizon as I pull up to the modest house tucked into the quiet corner of Ashby. Peeling white paint, an uneven driveway, and shutters that look one strong breeze away from giving up, a stark contrast to the image I’ve built of Olivia in my mind.
She deserves so much more than this—a place that reflects her brilliance, her resilience, not one that seems to swallow her whole.
I kill the engine, letting the silence settle around me.
I didn’t need to ask her for the address.
The necklace told me everything. As she promised, Olivia hasn’t taken it off since the day I put it on her.
It sits delicately against her skin, a piece of me wrapped around her even when I’m not there.
And especially during moments like these, I’m grateful for my foresight in planting a tracker on her.
Last night, when I saw her on that couch, curled in on herself, the rage that simmered beneath my calm exterior flared into something far darker.
Her parents had given her bedroom to one of her brothers while she was away at Halford.
They’d stripped her of her space, her comfort, as though she were nothing more than a transient visitor in the home she’d worked so hard to support. How ungrateful, I thought, gripping my phone tightly as she reluctantly explained the situation.
It wasn’t just the indignity of it—it was the sheer audacity.
After everything she’s done for them, the countless sacrifices they’ve demanded of her, they can’t even spare her a place to sleep? Absolutely not. Not while she’s mine.
I step out of the car, the cool morning air biting at my skin.
The gravel crunches beneath my shoes as I approach the door, my heartbeat steady.
I didn’t tell Olivia I was coming; I knew she’d try to stop me.
She’s so careful about her boundaries, so determined to maintain her independence, even when it’s clear she needs someone to fight for her.
Someone to remind her that she’s worth fighting for.
The doorbell echoes through the house, sharp against the stillness of the morning.
I stand there, my hands in my pockets, listening to the soft shuffle of footsteps, the faint creak of the floorboards.
The door opens slowly, and there she is, her auburn hair slightly mussed, her face still creased with the remnants of sleep. She freezes, her wide green eyes locking onto mine, and in that moment, I know. I just know I made the right decision.
“Nate…” Her voice is a whisper, trembling with emotion. Her eyes glisten, and before I can say a word, she launches herself into my arms.
I catch her easily, wrapping my arms around her and holding her tight. Her warmth seeps into me, chasing away the lingering chill of her absence, and I bury my face in her hair, breathing her in.
She’s mine.
I close my eyes, savoring the feel of her against me, the way she clings to me as though I’m her lifeline.
She doesn’t hesitate or try to hide how much she needs me. My chest swells with possessive satisfaction. She’s letting herself lean on me, allowing herself to be vulnerable.
And god, I missed her. It’s been a day—one day—since I last held her, but it feels much longer. The hours apart dragged endlessly, each one chipping away at my patience. And now, with her in my arms, the world feels right again.
Her breath hitches, and I feel her grip tighten, her face pressing into my shoulder. “You came,” she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion.
“I’ll always come,” I reply softly, the words a promise. My hand slides up her back, resting at the nape of her neck, and I tilt my head just enough to whisper into her hair. “You should know that by now.”
She pulls back slightly, her hands still clutching the front of my coat as she looks up at me, and she opens her mouth to speak. But then, a voice breaks through the fragile peace.
“Well. A man on my porch before eight in the morning. How unexpected!” The tone is saccharine, dripping with faux warmth.
My gaze shifts past Olivia to see her mother standing in the doorway, a forced smile plastered across her face. Olivia stiffens against me, her grip faltering. I slide my hand to her waist, anchoring her to me as I meet her mother’s gaze, my own expression cool and unreadable.
This should be interesting.
Claudia Bennett’s smile widens as she steps closer, her eyes flicking over me with barely concealed interest. It isn’t just the polite curiosity of a mother meeting her daughter’s boyfriend for the first time—it’s calculating, assessing.
“Well, don’t just stand in the doorway,” she chirps. “Come in, come in.”
I feel Olivia hesitate, her body tensing, bracing for something unpleasant. I press my hand gently against the small of her back, guiding her forward as I step inside, letting the door swing shut behind me.
The interior of the house is as modest as I expected.
The furniture is worn, the walls adorned with a mismatched array of family photos and cheap artwork. It isn’t unpleasant, but it lacks warmth—the kind of home you live in out of necessity, not love.
Claudia leads us into the living room, her movements brisk but tinged with a sort of performative grace. I can feel her glances, quick and assessing, lingering on the cut of my coat, the watch on my wrist.
“And who might you be?” she asks, her tone light but probing as she turns to face me fully.
I offer a polite smile, my hand still resting protectively on Olivia’s back. “Nathaniel Caldwell,” I say, extending a hand. “Olivia’s boyfriend.”
Her grip is firm, her smile widening just enough to show she’s pleased with what she sees.
“Boyfriend,” she repeats. “Interesting. Olivia hasn’t mentioned you.”
I don’t miss the way Olivia’s shoulders slump at the comment, and I squeeze her hand in reassurance. “She’s private about the things that matter,” I say calmly. “I like that about her.”
Claudia crosses her arms, chin lifting a fraction. “So. What brings you here—unannounced?”
I glance at Olivia, who’s watching the exchange with thinly veiled anxiety.
I keep my tone polite, even warm. “Olivia insisted on making the trip alone, but since she met my family over winter break, I thought it was only right to return the courtesy.” I pause, letting my gaze return to Claudia.
“And, of course, I missed her far too much to bear the thought of a week apart.”
Claudia’s smile falters for the briefest second before settling into something brighter, almost giddy. Her cheeks flush slightly, and I know she’s already drawing conclusions.
“Well, aren’t you sweet,” she says, her voice lilting with something resembling approval.
My attention turns to Olivia, taking in the dark circles under her eyes, the stiffness in her posture, the slight tilt of her body that screams exhaustion.
I can see the toll the night has taken. Sleeping on that decrepit couch, likely barely padded and years past its prime, has left her looking frayed at the edges.
I look down at Olivia. “You didn’t sleep well,” I say softly.
She glances up at me, her eyes half-lidded with fatigue. “I’m fine.”
She isn’t. And her parents did this. Reduced her to this worn-out version of herself. It burns beneath my skin, the anger simmering low but steady.
I turn back to Claudia, who’s watching us with barely concealed scrutiny.
“Olivia is exhausted,” I say, my tone cooling, “I was surprised to find her sleeping on the couch when we spoke last night. Surely there must be a better arrangement for her. This is her home, after all.”
Claudia blinks, her expression faltering for the briefest moment before she recovers.
“Oh, well, the boys are at that age where they need their own space, and Olivia’s off at Halford most of the year!
And when she graduates, she’ll get some high-paying job in the city. She doesn’t need her room anymore.”
“And did anyone consider telling her that before she arrived?” I ask, my voice as smooth as silk but with an edge that cuts through the room. “Or asking the boys to share their space for a few days?”
A pointed pause. Claudia’s composure flickers, the edges of her smile straining.
“Regardless, she won’t be sacrificing her sleep again. I’ve already booked us a hotel nearby.”
Claudia’s eyes dart to Olivia, whose cheeks flush with embarrassment.
“Well, that’s very thoughtful of you, Nathaniel. But I’m sure Olivia would prefer to stay here with her family,” Claudia says, her voice taking on a slightly defensive edge. “She’s here to help, after all. There’s plenty to do at the diner and around the house.”
Olivia winces slightly before she drops her gaze, her posture folding in on itself by the smallest breath. It’s subtle, but it’s enough to stoke the fire already burning in my chest.
I exhale, forcing my voice to remain even. “Anything that needs doing can be handled by someone else,” I say coolly. “I’ll see to it. Olivia’s break should be exactly that—a break.”
Claudia’s hesitation melts into something resembling delight. “Well, that’s…very generous of you, Nathaniel. We certainly wouldn’t want to refuse such a kind offer.”
It sickens me, the way she so easily shifts from indifference to enthusiasm the moment something benefits her. But I hold my composure, my hand slipping down to entwine with Olivia’s, grounding both of us.
“I only want what’s best for Olivia,” I say, letting my gaze linger on Claudia for a moment longer than necessary. “And I won’t tolerate anything less.”
Claudia’s smile falters, just slightly, before she recovers. “Of course,” she replies quickly. “We want what’s best for her too.”
The words land with a hollowness I doubt she even hears. But I don’t correct her.
Olivia squeezes my hand, and I look down at her, catching the glimmer of gratitude in her eyes.
“Come,” I murmur, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “You need rest.”