Page 222 of Tessa and Nash

“Yes.”

“He mean it?”

“I think he wanted to.”

Nash is quiet. “You coming to stay with me doesn’t mean anything’s falling apart.”

The passing streetlights cut across the sharp line of his jaw, the tired set of his mouth, the steadiness in his expression.

He keeps his eyes on the road when he says, “Could be the start of something instead.”

My throat tightens unexpectedly.

I look away before he sees too much.

Outside town, the road opens into dark fields and long fences silvered by moonlight. The air feels different out here.

Less watched.

By the time we turn onto the ranch road, the knot in my chest has eased enough that I can finally breathe without feeling like I’m doing it around broken glass.

The guest house sits exactly where it did the other night, just beyond the stretch of land Nash plans to turn into more.

In the dark, the little place looks golden. Light spills from the windows onto the porch. The shape of it is modest but welcoming, tucked slightly apart from the main house, private without feeling lonely.

Hope flickers in me so suddenly that it is almost alarming.

Nash parks and comes around to open my door before I can protest.

“I am perfectly capable of exiting a truck by myself,” I inform him.

“I know.”

“Then why are you standing there like a chauffeur?”

He offers me his hand anyway. “Because tonight, I’m making an effort to be irritatingly reliable.”

I should roll my eyes.

Instead, I take his hand and let him help me down.

The cold bites at my cheeks immediately, but the porch light and the warmth beyond the windows make the whole place feel impossibly inviting.

He carries my things inside.

I step in behind him and stop.

The house is simple, but it’s been made ready.

A woven throw over the back of the sofa. Lamps switched on low. A fire already laid in the stove. Fresh towels folded on a chair. A kettle on the hob. There are wildflowers in a jar near the sink, winter dry and sparse, but chosen carefully.

For one stunned moment, I can’t speak.

Nash sets my suitcases by the wall and turns, suddenly looking unsure of himself.

“I didn’t know what you’d want,” he says. “So I just… guessed. Which isn’t my strongest skill set, but Faith helped with some of it, and Rose said lamps make places feel less temporary, and⁠—”

I cross the room and kiss him.