Nathan’s POV
For a mont, there was only silence.
Hailee didn’t answer my question. She didn’t move. She didn’t even breathe the sa way as before.
She just... closed her eyes.
Slowly. Purposefully.
Like she was trying to hide inside the dark.
I watched her chest rise and fall. Too steady. Too controlled.
She wasn’t sleeping. I knew her better than that.
I’d always known when she was pretending.
My heart cracked a little.
Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.
Maybe I shouldn’t have hoped.
I turned my face slightly, looking at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the ache in my chest. It wasn’t from the wound this ti. It was sothing deeper. Sothing that didn’t heal with bandages.
Maybe it was just the heat of the mont.
Maybe it was just her trying to comfort .
Maybe... maybe she didn’t an it.
But she felt real.
Her voice had felt real.
Her body had felt real.
Her warmth.
Her touch.
Her tremble.
All of it felt like truth.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight.
I looked at her again.
Her lashes rested against her cheeks, still slightly damp. Her lips were soft, red, swollen from our kisses. Her body lay close to mine, like she belonged there but didn’t want to admit it.
I brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead, careful not to wake her—careful not to startle her into running.
Then I whispered, "Hailee... I wish you’d just tell what you really feel."
She didn’t move.
Not even a twitch.
I let out a slow breath and leaned my head back. The pain in my ribs pulsed, but the ache in my chest was louder.
I closed my eyes.
"Maybe it was the mont," I whispered to the quiet room. "Maybe I shouldn’t have asked right after..."
I trailed off.
My hand brushed lightly over her shoulder, gentle, protective, even though she might never want that from again in the morning.
"Maybe I heard what I wanted to hear," I said softly. "Maybe I’m the fool."
Her fingers curled slightly against the blanket—so small a movent that most people wouldn’t notice.
But I did.
She was awake.
Awake... and scared of answering.
I didn’t call her out.
I didn’t force her to speak.
I just whispered the truth I’d kept buried for years.
"You don’t have to love back," I murmured, brushing my thumb along her arm. "My love is enough for both of us."
My voice broke.
I hated that it did.
I pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the top of her head.
"I hope it was real," I said quietly. "Even if it was only for a mont."
Then I tightened my arm around her and slowly forced myself to sleep.
When I woke, the room was quiet.
The pain in my ribs was still there, but softer... almost buried under sothing warm pressed against my side.
Hailee.
She was still in my arms.
Her cheek rested on my shoulder, her leg tangled with mine, her hair all over my chest like a soft blanket. For a second, I didn’t breathe. I just watched her.
Then, slowly, her eyelashes fluttered.
Her eyes opened... sleepy, soft, still a little swollen from last night.
"Morning," she whispered.
My heart twisted. "Morning."
She gave a small smile before sitting up. My arm slipped from around her, and I instantly missed her warmth.
She stretched, her hair falling over her shoulders, her skin glowing in the soft morning light. The blanket slid down her back, showing more than she probably realized.
I stared. I couldn’t help it.
She noticed—of course she did—and smirked.
"What?" she asked, pretending not to know why my jaw had gone slack.
"Nothing," I said, though my voice ca out rough. "Just... looking."
"Hmm," she humd, picking up her clothes from the floor. "You’ve seen naked before."
"I can never get tired of it," I muttered before I could stop myself.
She paused, her smirk widening just a little. "You’re staring."
"I’m allowed to stare," I said, leaning back against the pillows. "It’s your fault for looking like that first thing in the morning."
She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks ward. She pulled her dress on and tied it carefully, moving slowly so she didn’t bump the bed. I watched every second. I couldn’t stop.
When she finished, she turned to and crossed her arms. "I’m going to get water for you. You should wash up."
"I will," I said. "After I catch my breath."
She narrowed her eyes playfully. "Catch your breath? From what?"
"From watching you get dressed," I said honestly.
She shook her head, trying not to laugh, and walked toward the small side table.
I pushed the blanket off my legs. "I’m going to take a bath."
She froze and turned. "A bath?"
"Yes," I said. "You know... soap, water, the usual. I’m not handicapped."
She gave a long, serious look. "Nathan... you’re not healed properly."
"I can stand," I said with a shrug. "I can wash myself. I don’t need a caretaker."
"Oh?" Her eyebrow lifted. "So you’re saying if you fall in the bathtub, no one should help you?"
"I won’t fall."
She scoffed. "Your ribs are cut. One wrong twist and you’ll be screaming."
I snorted. "Hailee, I’m fine."
She stepped closer, hands on her hips. "What are you shy for?"
"I’m not shy."
"Yes, you are." She pointed at . "You’re refusing help."
"Because I don’t need anyone to bathe ."
"Okay. Let help."
I frowned. "That won’t be necessary."
She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. "Nathan, I’ve seen all of you."
My breath stopped.
She smirked again. "Every. Single. Part."
I stared at her.
Hard.
She straightened, still smug. "So what’s the problem?"
"The problem," I said slowly, "is that if you co into that bath with ... I might not survive it."
She blinked, confused. "...Why?"
"Because," I said, lowering my voice, "I’m already hanging by a thread from pulling you into the bed and fucking you."
Her lips parted.
Her face softened.
For the first ti since waking up, she didn’t tease. She just looked at ... really looked at ... like she finally understood how close I was to losing control again.
Then she whispered, "I’m not complaining."
I swallowed hard.
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