“Nothing has changed, Mr. Hatcher,” she said, gesturing at the house around her. “If anything, matters are much worse. I will not add another name to the list of those harmed by my family!”
The gentleman’s expression shuttered, and he watched her through narrowed eyes for a long moment before turning on his heels and climbing the stairs.
“Where are you going?” she said, stepping around him to block his path.
“If all the cowards in your family have fled, that means your bedchamber will be the only one with things in it, so it shan’tbe difficult to locate. I would prefer your assistance, but I shall simply have to pack everything I find.”
And with that, Mr. Hatcher barreled ahead, though his hands were gentle as they guided her to one side so he could move past her.
“Hatchers are not like Edens,” he said, calling from over his shoulder. “We do not abandon our own. Ever.”
For one suspended moment, Nora could only stand there upon the stairs, one hand gripping the banister as Mr. Hatcher continued upward with all the stubborn certainty of a man who had already decided the matter and would not permit anything to turn him from his course. The warmth that rose inside her hurt almost as much as the grief, though differently. Sharper, perhaps, because it carried light into places that had grown accustomed to darkness, like the first attempts to open one’s eyes in the morning when the curtains were thrown wide.
Had Nora ever known love? Papa wielded it like chains and manacles. Mama’s was as brittle as tissue paper. Her siblings knew nothing other than that which served their own interests and needs. Even the men who had claimed to love her beyond all reason fled at the slightest difficulty, brushing her aside for the sake of fear and self-interest.
And then there was Mr. Hatcher, striding through the wreckage of her life as though claiming her was the most natural thing in the world.
A bitter ache twisted through the warmth, for Nora could see it now with almost painful clarity. She had spent her whole life mistaking obligation for devotion, approval for affection, protection for care. But love was not meant to control. It did not bend with a whim. It did not falter when the storms of life raged.
Love sacrificed. It persevered. It even packed trunks.
“I do not want you to pay for my father’s actions,” she whispered, though Nora couldn’t say if she were pleading with him to argue or surrender.
Mr. Hatcher halted at the top of the stairs and turned slowly to face her, his brows pulled low as fire burned in his gaze. “The only thing hurting me is your rejection.”
“But your business—”
“Hang my business!” he said, the words emerging not quite as a shout, though only just. Then surging down the stairs, Mr. Hatcher drew so close that Nora leaned back, though his hand steadied her when she teetered.
“Don’t you understand?” he said, his voice low and warm. “If my business is ruined, I shall build another. But I shall never find another you.”
Nora’s lips parted, but no sound came, but it mattered little for Mr. Hatcher forged ahead.
“If every contract I hold vanished this instant, if every investor turned from me tomorrow, that loss would not compare to the prospect of walking out of this house and leaving you behind because you have convinced yourself I am too fragile to choose my own future,” he whispered. “But I would tear down every brick of my home and burn my office to the ground if I could have you.”
Tears blurred him into soft lines and dark shadows, but Nora did not look away. “It would be selfish of me…”
“You destroyed your life to protect others and remained when others fled,” said Mr. Hatcher, his eyes blazing with the pride and awe that had driven him to write that note to her all those weeks ago. “You do not know the meaning of selfishness, Nora Eden. You are courageous and strong. If, as you fear, being with you ruins everything else in my life, that would be a small price to have you in it.”
The words settled deep into her soul, filling the places that had remained empty for so long that Nora had forgotten they were there. Mr. Hatcher looked upon every broken piece of her life, every consequence still waiting beyond that stripped house, and saw something worth choosing. Something worth loving.
Slowly, Nora lifted her hand to his cheek, and Mr. Hatcher stilled beneath her touch, his breath catching.
The house was silent around them, the ghosts of the past fading into the ether as she considered the choice before her. If she accepted him now, it would not be because she was swept away in some flurry of romantic foolishness. Or the desperate need for safety and comfort. This decision formed through the tears blurring her sight, through the ache lodged in her heart, and through every warning that whispered that the world would punish him for daring to love her.
Nora considered it all.
Then she pressed her lips to his.
*
For one impossible instant, Jonathan couldn’t move. Then her lips touched his and every reckless impulse inside him surged forward at once, demanding he draw her close and deepen the kiss until he convinced her by sheer force of will that she was safe with him. But the slight tremble in her hand against his cheek held him still.
This was not a moment to take. This was a moment to receive.
So Jonathan quieted every hungry, aching part of himself. His hands remained steady and firm enough to reassure, and when Nora leaned nearer, he met her gently. When her breath shivered, he did not chase more than she offered. The restraintnearly undid him, yet beneath it grew something far greater than desire.
Nora was giving him trust, fragile and trembling and more precious than gold. After everything done to her, every false promise, every abandonment, every cruel lesson that had ground her certainty to dust, Nora Eden was giving her heart to him. The knowledge filled him until his chest ached, and he touched her with all the reverence she and her beautiful heart deserved.
