Page 12 of Unspoken Love

His mom chuckled as she began clearing the table. “It’s not an ambush, sweetheart. We’re just curious. You don’t usually talk about anyone. Let alone tell us that you’ve taken her out to dinner.”

“She was hungry,” he said, standing to help gather the plates.

“She’s pretty,” his dad offered as he brought the iced tea pitcher back to the fridge. “Sharp, too. I remember talking to her at the wedding. Even with the hearing trouble, she didn’t miss a beat.”

“She’s had a hell of a year,” Nate said more softly than he meant to. “I just want to make sure she’s okay while she’s here.”

His mom met his eyes as she wiped down the counter. “You’ve always had a kind heart to those who need it. Just don’t forget to take care of yourself once in a while.”

He didn’t have a response to that, so he just smiled faintly, kissed her cheek, and headed toward the back door.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said. “Tell Max and Juliette I said hi when they check in again. And tell them their horses are good.”

“Drive safe,” his mom called as he stepped out into the warm night air.

His truck rumbled softly as he pulled away from the house and drove the winding back road toward the beach. The sky had turned a deep indigo, and stars were just beginning to pierce through the dusk. The lights from town glowed faintly in the distance, and Pride looked cozy and small, nestled along the coastline like a secret.

Nate parked at the edge of the dunes instead of his normal spot and walked across the sand toward his cabin. The one-room place sat a few dozen yards off the shore, tucked in behind a cluster of sea grass and scrub pine. The cabin was home. At least for now.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside. He was greeted by the soft creak of the wooden floorboards and the scent of sea salt and pine. The space was small but warm—one bedroom, a kitchen, and a living room space with a sofa, a large TV, and an overstuffed chair by the window where he could read or stare out at the ocean.

He tossed his keys onto the counter, then stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, not really sure what to do with himself.

He didn’t feel tired.

Didn’t feel relaxed either.

The silence, once something he craved after busy shifts, now felt heavier. Emptier.

He moved to the window and looked out at the dark horizon. Somewhere up the coast, just out of view, stood Max and Juliettes’s house—warm, filled with light, horses in the barn, and Faye probably curled up with a book or brushing her hair before bed.

He smiled to himself, picturing her on the beach that morning. Determined. Sharp. That slight curve to her mouth when she caught him trying to keep pace.

It had only been a few days, but something had shifted in him.

He missed her. Missed talking to her. Hearing her dry humor. Watching her face when she didn’t realize anyone was paying attention.

He let out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair.

He’d never thought about a woman like this before. Had never missed just talking to them.

Monday couldn’t come soon enough. She’d be behind the counter at the Brew-Ha-Ha for her first shift. He’d train her. Probably tease her a little. Definitely watch to make sure she didn’t lift anything too heavy.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d find a reason to make her laugh again.

The next day, when he jogged past the lighthouse, Nate felt a flicker of disappointment. Faye wasn’t out on the beach like she had been the last few mornings.

Later, when he stopped by to exercise the horses, her car was gone.

For a split second, his stomach dipped. Had she packed up and gone back to Portland? Maybe small-town life wasn’t for her. Maybe the quiet and the slow pace had been too much.

He spent longer than usual brushing down Blaze and Stormy, giving them extra attention he didn’t have time for. By the time he checked the clock, he’d already gone thirty minutes over his break.

Grumbling at himself, he headed back to the Brew-Ha-Ha, expecting a whirlwind rush of summer tourists.

What he didn’t expect was to walk in and find Faye sitting alone in a booth by the front windows, sunlight glinting off her hair as she sipped a cold drink and read a book.

Chapter Five