Chapter 26 - Nathan
I can't breathe.
Eve is curled beside me on the library sofa, her warmth seeping into my side, her breathing soft and even. The photo album lies forgotten on the coffee table, its pages still open to images of a boy I barely recognize anymore.
A boy who had a best friend. A boy who laughed without calculation. A boy who didn't yet know what it felt like to destroy everything he loved.
She forgave me.
The words echo in my mind like a prayer, like a curse. Three simple words that have shattered every carefully constructed wall I've spent sixteen years building.
I forgive you.
My hands are shaking. Actually shaking. I press them against my thighs, willing them to stop, but my body refuses to obey. The control I've wielded like a weapon for so long is gone, dissolved by her unexpected grace.
For years, my guilt was my anchor. It gave me purpose, direction, a reason to wake up every morning and continue the elaborate penance I'd constructed. I could quantify it—every dollar spent protecting her, every threat eliminated, every choice I made for her benefit.
But now there's only her. Her forgiveness. Her warmth. Her impossible, terrifying acceptance.
And I don't know who I am without the weight of my sin.
"Nathan?" Her voice is soft, concerned. She shifts to look at me, green eyes searching my face. "You're so tense."
I try to smile, to reassure her, but my face feels frozen. "I'm fine."
"Liar." She sits up, taking my hand in both of hers. Her fingers are warm, grounding. "Talk to me."
But I can't find the words. How do I explain that her forgiveness has left me more terrified than I've ever been? That loving her—really loving her, not as penance but as choice—means she has the power to destroy me completely?
I pull away gently and stand, needing space, needing air. I move to the window, staring out at the city lights without really seeing them.
Behind me, I hear her rise, feel her approach. But she doesn't touch me. Just waits.
My brilliant, patient Eve.
***
The decision comes suddenly, born of desperation and the overwhelming need to put us somewhere else. Anywhere else.
"Pack a bag," I say, turning to face her. "We're leaving."
She blinks, surprised. "Leaving? Where?"
"The villa. The one by the ocean." I'm already moving, pulling out my phone. "I need—we need to get away from here. From all of this."
From the ghosts in this penthouse. From the guilt that clings to every corner. From the person I've been.
Eve watches me with those knowing eyes. "For how long?"
"As long as it takes."
She nods slowly, and I see understanding dawn on her face. She doesn't question it, doesn't resist. Just moves toward the bedroom to pack.
I make the calls—short, efficient. The pilot is to have the jet ready within the hour. The villa staff is to prepare for our arrival. Bjorn is to handle everything in my absence.
He asks no questions. He rarely does.
An hour later, we're in the car heading to the private airfield. Eve sits beside me, her hand in mine, and says nothing. She just holds me, steady and calm, while I come apart at the seams.
The jet is waiting, sleek and silent in the dark. We board quickly, and as the engines roar to life, I feel something loosen in my chest.
I'm taking her away. Somewhere I can breathe. Somewhere I can figure out how to be the man she deserves instead of the monster I've become.
***
The villa looks like a dream in the moonlight—all white stone and ocean breeze. We arrive near midnight, and the staff has vanished as instructed, leaving only soft lights and silence.
Eve steps onto the terrace and gasps. The ocean stretches endlessly before us, silver under the moon, the sound of waves a rhythmic whisper.
"It's beautiful," she murmurs.
"I bought it years ago," I say, joining her. "I needed somewhere that didn't remind me of..."
I trail off, but she understands. Of course she does.
She turns to me, her hair catching in the sea breeze, and I'm struck again by how beautiful she is. Not just physically, though she is. But the strength in her eyes. The compassion that shouldn't exist after everything I've put her through.
When I kiss her, it's different from every time before.
No domination. No calculated seduction. Just desperate, honest need.
She responds with equal intensity, her hands threading through my hair as I back her toward the wall. But even in my urgency, I'm gentle. Reverent.
I break the kiss long enough to look into her eyes. "I need you to understand something."
"What?"
"This isn't about control anymore. It's about love. Real, terrifying, all-consuming love." My voice cracks. "You have all the power now, Eve. You could destroy me with a word."
"I know," she whispers. "And I choose not to."
The relief that floods through me is so intense it's almost painful. I kiss her again, pouring everything I can't say into the contact—my fear, my love, my desperate gratitude.
She grabs my face, forcing me to look at her. "You're my monster, Nathan Hale. And I'm keeping you."
I break.
My mouth crashes into hers, desperate and claiming. She kisses me back with equal hunger, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
We make our way upstairs to the master bedroom, shedding clothes as we go. The moonlight streams through the windows, painting her skin silver.
I lay her down on the bed with a tenderness that feels foreign to me. All my previous encounters were about power, about proving something. But this—this is about connection.
"I need you," she says simply.
I close the distance between us. My hands frame her face, thumbs stroking her cheekbones. "You have me. Always."
I kiss her slowly this time. Thoroughly. Pouring every apology, every promise, every desperate hope into the slide of my lips against hers.
She melts into me, her body soft and pliant. When I finally pull back, her eyes are dark with desire.
"Nathan," she breathes. "Please."
That word—*please*—unravels me completely.
I lift her, and she wraps her legs around my waist automatically. Her dress rides up, and I can feel the heat of her even through my clothes.
The bed is three steps away. Might as well be miles.
I press her against the wall instead, my mouth finding her throat. She gasps, her head falling back.
"Mine," I growl against her skin. "Say it."
"Yours." Her fingers thread through my hair, tugging. "Always yours."
I set her down long enough to strip away her clothes. Each piece that falls reveals more soft skin, more curves, more of the woman I love beyond reason.
When she's bare before me, I just look at her. Memorizing. Worshiping.
"You're staring," she says, but she's smiling.
"I'm appreciating." I shrug out of my shirt, watching her eyes track the movement. "I almost lost you. I'm never taking this for granted."
I kiss her again, slower now. My hands map her body—the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips, the softness of her thighs.
She tugs at my belt, impatient. I help her, shedding the rest of my clothes until there's nothing between us.
"Bed," she murmurs. "Nathan, please, bed."
I lift her again, carrying her the last few steps. She laughs against my mouth, the sound bright and free.
I lay her down gently, following her onto the mattress. She spreads beneath me, welcoming, and the sight makes my chest tight.
I explore her body slowly, learning every curve, every soft gasp, every place that makes her arch into my touch. And when I finally enter her, it's with our eyes locked, seeing each other completely.
"I love you," I breathe against her lips.
"I love you," she echoes, and the words are a vow.
I kiss my way down her body. Her collarbone. The valley between her breasts. Her stomach. She squirms, gasping.
"Nathan—"
"Let me worship you," I murmur against her skin. "Let me show you how much you mean to me."
I settle between her thighs, and the first taste of her makes us both groan. She's already wet, already ready, and I take my time exploring her with my mouth.
Her hands fist in the sheets, then in my hair. She's making small, desperate sounds that drive me wild.
"Please," she gasps. "Nathan, please, I need—"
"I know." I kiss the inside of her thigh. "Let go, Eve. I've got you."
When she comes apart under my tongue, her back arching off the bed, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
I kiss my way back up her body as she trembles through the aftershocks. When I reach her mouth, she kisses me deeply, tasting herself on my lips.
"Inside me," she whispers. "Nathan, please, I need to feel you."
I position myself at her entrance, and our eyes lock. This moment—this joining—feels sacred somehow.
I push into her slowly, watching her face as she takes me. Her eyes flutter closed, her mouth falling open on a moan.
"Look at me," I command gently.
Her eyes open, dark and dazed. "Nathan—"
"Stay with me," I breathe, starting to move. "Right here. Just us."
"Just us," she echoes.
We find a rhythm together. Slow at first, then faster as the pleasure builds. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper.
"Yes," she gasps. "God, yes, Nathan—"
"Mine," I growl, thrusting harder. "Say it again."
"Yours." Her nails rake down my back. "All yours."
I feel her tightening around me, getting close again. I reach between us, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Come for me," I murmur. "Let me feel it."
She shatters with a cry, and the sensation of her climaxing around me triggers my own release. I bury myself deep, groaning her name as I pour myself into her.
We collapse together, breathing hard. I roll us so she's draped across my chest, and her fingers trace lazy patterns on my skin.
Afterward, I hold her close, our bodies still connected, and feel the last of my walls crumble.
She's seen all of me now—the monster, the broken boy, the man desperately in love. And she's chosen to stay.
In her arms, for the first time since Alex's death, I feel something that might be peace.
The ghosts are finally quiet.