Chapter 34 The Room

Moments later, Scarlett found herself trailing behind Nate as he led her up a narrow staircase at the back of the store. She'd never visited this part of the store before—when they were kids and Earl Twelve ran Williams Hardware, the upper floors were for storage only, and children were strictly forbidden. Her curiosity battled her exhaustion as they reached the landing. Nate pushed open an unremarkable door, revealing an unremarkable bachelor pad.

He left her alone momentarily to change his soot-covered clothes and wash his face. Looking around, Scarlett was surprised to find his living space was almost monastic; it was quite a surprising contrast to the hoarder aesthetic downstairs in the store. Sparse furniture—a worn sofa, an overstuffed easy chair, a simple table, and a neatly made bed—accentuated the feeling of openness. His rough-and-ready bookshelves, assembled from boards and bricks, were stuffed with paperbacks by Ray Bradbury and Octavia Butler. There was a stark efficiency here, a sense of someone more focused on function than frills.

Although it shamed her to do it, Scarlett's gaze instinctively scanned the space in search of any feminine presence. A stray lipstick, a hairbrush, lacy knickers?

There was nothing to see.

It's none of my damned business anyway, she reminded herself sternly. Remember: you're going, he's staying. That's all there is to it.

Still, something by the window did catch her eye. On a small table crowded with crafting supplies—the only part of the room that looked actively used—sat a nearly finished model of a balsa-wood ship trapped within a glass bottle. Scarlett approached, a smile spreading across her face as she realized what it was: a pirate ship with the Jolly Roger flying proudly. Earl Twelve was still inside Nate somewhere, hiding out.

"Yeah, I'm building a ship model." Nate's voice broke softly into the quiet room. "And yeah, it's a pirate ship, and no, I don't care to analyze what that might indicate."

Scarlett spun around, her face a picture of mock innocence. "I certainly wasn't going to say anything."

Nate lifted an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Anyway, you wanted to talk." He plunked down in a well-loved armchair and gestured at the couch, inviting her to sit. "What's up? What was Aphra all upset about?"

Scarlett offered the highlights of her adventure in Las Vegas, focusing on the successful aspects of her and Delilah's interrogation of Max—the magicians' plot, their trivia games, and the mystery predator that might save the grove. She left out the many inadequacies and mistakes detailed by her mother.

But her judicious self-editing didn't matter because Nate understood everything, as he somehow always did. "So you let Max go free, then . . .?"

"Yep."

He laughed. "Ooh boy, I bet Kelly's pissed."

"You said a mouthful there, mister."

Nate brushed the matter away with a casual wave of his hand. "She'll get over it. So. Predators, huh? Okay. What do we do next?"

Scarlett lifted an eyebrow. "We? What do we do?"

"Yeah, we, of course." He shrugged. "You think I'm going to leave you in the lurch now? After all this? I'm Team Scarlett, remember? Hell, I was Team Scarlett a couple of days ago when everything seemed like it was your fault. Now that you're about to play hero, you think I won't be along for the ride?"

Ah, Scarlett thought. Shit.

Breaking things off had seemed like an easy decision while sitting at a buffet in Las Vegas. Breaking things off had seemed perfectly logical on the walk over here. But now, up in Nate's apartment, with those black pirate eyes taking her in . . . things didn't seem so obvious. Not when she was sitting about ten feet from Nate's bed.

"You know . . ." she said, stalling. "Maybe this isn't the right moment. It's late, we're exhausted . . . you just survived an Oppenheimer at White Sands sort of situation. We can postpone. I should probably get back to the inn, anyway."

Nate sat forward in his chair. "Can I tell you what I think?"

Scarlett nodded because she was suddenly unsure she could speak. All she could think was: One slight move, and I could be in his arms .

"I think . . . that if you go back to the inn right now, you'll find your mother and sisters waiting up for you. And I think they will hand you yet another urgent assignment. Which I think you'll accept, even though you're exhausted. And after you've finished, one of them will find you another urgent job. Which you'll also do because you haven't been home in ten years, and you can't say no because you feel too guilty over a hundred different things . . ."

Scarlett winced. He wasn't guessing. He knew her too well. "It's mainly the one giant thing, but yeah."

"And once you've completed that job? Hey, what do you know? Something else will come up that you have to deal with immediately. And your guilt will drive you on and on until nothing is left of you but a little green globule like a drummer in Spinal Tap. How am I doing?"

"Disturbingly accurate," Scarlett admitted.

"Right, so here's my idea," Nate continued. "Stay here. Sleep. I'm not suggesting anything beyond that. Sleep, for as long as you need."

"But—"

"When your mother inevitably calls to ask me where you are, I will say you got called away on urgent witch business and can't be contacted."

"She won't believe you."

"I don't care. Unlike most of this town, I'm not afraid of Kelly Melrose."

Scarlett's breath immediately left her body. "That is the greatest goddamn sentence I have ever heard in my life."

Nate's cheeks flushed, but he held her gaze. "Go rest. I'll take the couch." He stood and reached out to pull her to her feet. "Feel free to borrow a T-shirt if you want—clean ones are in the bottom left drawer."

She smiled. I will absolutely be doing that, Scarlett thought, warmth spreading through her. "Nate . . ." There was something she needed to say, but she wasn't sure how to find the words. "Sorry I'm so . . . complicated."

He laughed and pulled her into his arms. "I don't mind complicated." They gazed at one another for a long moment. Scarlett wanted so badly to kiss him but felt so strongly that it was wrong. So she just stood there, letting him hold her, trying not to move, breathe, or do anything that might cause the moment to end.

Finally, he smiled and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "C'mon, you should get some rest."

"Why don't you come lie down with me? Just to sleep?"

Nate winked. "You think we can be trusted to manage that?" But then his face turned serious. "I'm kidding. Of course. Whatever you need."

Scarlett quickly changed into one of his T-shirts; the soft cotton enveloped her like an embrace. She curled up on the cozy old wooden-frame bed. Nate settled in behind her, his arm around her waist. Their bodies fit together like a puzzle that had been missing a piece for a long time.

Just before she drifted off, Scarlett threaded her fingers through his. Holding on so tightly, a deep sense of comfort washed over her. The scent of Nate's skin and the sound of his breathing lulled her into a deep sleep. For the first time in years, her mind was not filled with anxious thoughts or regrets about the past. She was simply at peace.

Sometime later, Scarlett awoke to find herself still wrapped in Nate's arms. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. They had slept for hours, and the morning light was creeping through the windows.

Nate stirred. He sleepily nuzzled the back of Scarlett's neck.

"Hey, you," he murmured.

Scarlett rolled over to face him. The look in his eyes made her heart skip a beat. She reached up and stroked his cheek.

"Hey, you," she said softly.

They gazed at each other for a moment, a thousand unspoken words passing between them.

"I should probably go," she told him.

"You should definitely go."

Scarlett leaned in closer, their faces nearly touching. "Everybody is going to be wondering where I am."

"They are," he whispered. "There is a great and terrible crisis, and you must go forth and save the day."

"That I must. Right away." She kissed him. "Just five more minutes maybe . . ."

Downstairs in the store, the phone rang.

"Ignore it." Nate took hold of her face and kissed her deeply, searchingly.

Scarlett returned the kiss, one hand in his hair while the other moved across his chest. She felt his strength and willed it to soak into her.

Downstairs in the store, the phone continued to ring.

Nate's hands slid down to her hips, pulling her tighter against him.

"You know it's my goddamn mother," she whispered.

"Let her wait."

She smiled, feeling happier than she had in a long time. For a moment, she allowed herself to forget about the grove, Louise Demain's words and even Papa—about all the challenges that lay ahead and all the mistakes that lay behind. "I wish we could stay like this forever," she murmured.

Nate kissed her again, more urgently this time. She could feel his desire growing, and her own need responded in kind. It felt like something she'd been searching for her whole life.

His hands slid down her back, his touch electric even through the fabric of the T-shirt. Her pulse quickened, a delicious heat spreading through her. Her hands slid down his chest, feeling the hard lines of muscle beneath his shirt.

Years of wanting came crashing over them. Meeting his eyes, she said, "Nate, nothing has felt this right in . . . maybe ever."

"Then let's make it count," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

The world narrowed. It was just the two of them, the feel of his hands on her skin, the heat radiating from their bodies. He trailed kisses down her neck, his touch feather-light yet electrifying. Scarlett moaned softly, her body arching instinctively toward his. Once their clothes were nothing but a tangle on the floor, Nate traced the outline of her nakedness with deft hands. Her collarbone, her shoulders, the curve of her hip. He gently eased her legs apart, breathing her in.

"Scarlett," he whispered, his voice like velvet over her bare skin, "you're so beautiful." Nate's touch, a slow exploration, sent shivers dancing across her skin like fireflies.

She breathlessly whispered, "You too, Nate."

But as close as he was, she suddenly felt he was much too far away. She needed him—needed him on her, in her, caressing every part of his body with every part of hers. She reached down to pull him up to her, the outline of his face stark and perfect. His lips found hers again, a hungry meeting with no more hesitation, only the fierce joy of a long-awaited homecoming. Scarlett's fingers threaded urgently through his hair as they lost themselves in the rhythm only their bodies could understand. Each kiss was a promise finally kept. The weight of him felt like a declaration, unspoken yet understood.

A choked gasp escaped her. Heat bloomed, spreading to encompass her entire being. She felt raw, exposed, yet utterly safe in his arms.

Time seemed to warp and bend, the only constant being the frantic rhythm of their hearts and the deepening sighs that escaped them both.

The room itself seemed to shimmer. Then, with a shuddering breath, Nate was inside her.

"Scarlett . . ." he rasped.

There were no more words, just a tangled mess of emotions—joy, relief, yearning, a fierce need to possess everything he was and could be. In that moment, she knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that this was what home felt like.

He cupped her face, his thumb tracing a path down her cheek. "Scarlett, all this time, I . . ." He trailed off, searching for the words.

"Don't say it," she whispered. "Show me."

He didn't need to be told twice. Time lost all meaning as they surrendered. Nate's name escaped her lips in a strangled moan, a mixture of pleasure with the vulnerability of finally letting go. And then, with a final, shuddering breath, they reached a peak that left them clinging to each other, hearts pounding in unison.

As the world slowly came back into focus, the only sound was their ragged breaths echoing in the stillness of the room.

***

Nate dozed off, and Scarlett tried to follow. But her mind was plagued with thoughts of the outside world. She'd close her eyes and see Louise Demain. Or a monstrous raven trying to peck out her eyes. Or red dragonflies darting around a dying oak tree.

Shit.

She got up and aimlessly paced around Nate's bare apartment, unsure what to do with herself. She knew she ought to return to the inn, but she also desperately did not want to face all that yet. Plus, sneaking out on Nate after what just happened didn't feel especially sportsmanlike.

She stared at Nate's bookshelves and pulled out a Philip K.Dick anthology. Unable to muster enough focus enough to even decide on a story to read, she sighed and put it back.

Scarlett plunked down at Nate's craft table to study his ship-in-a-bottle project. The pirate ship made her think about Nate's ancestor: the Great Sea Wolf, Earl of Anglia, the Terror of Tortuga. If the legends about him were even partially true, he'd committed an entire galleon's worth of sins—he had far more blood on his hands than Scarlett. And Oak Haven had accepted him anyway. If he'd been forgiven, perhaps she could be as well?

But, of course, all that spilled blood belonged to outsiders. He'd never killed a Melrose.

"Uh-oh."

Startled, Scarlett turned to see Nate staring at her. He'd pulled his jeans back on, fortunately. If he'd been standing there naked, Scarlett thought, my brain would have melted and dribbled out my ears. "What do you mean, uh-oh?"

"You have that trademark melancholy look of yours. You do realize that that —" he flicked his head in the direction of his mussed sheets "—is supposed to make you happy, right? Not melancholy."

"I am happy," she said, unconvincingly. "I just . . . Well, the truth is . . . I came here to break off whatever this thing is between us."

"I knew that. I'm a grown man—I can recognize an I'm dumping you look when I see one."

"You talked me out of it. Or, I guess, kissed me out of it."

He shrugged sexily. "What can I say? Should I put some coffee on?"

A tempting offer . . . but no. "I should get back. I've got a whole Walk of Shame to do. Best get it over with." As she gathered her clothes and dressed, she felt so confused and conflicted that it made her nauseous. The memory of last night lingered, yet the light of day brought all her doubts raging back.

Nate watched her silently. His expression was unreadable, but she could feel his gaze following her around the apartment.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, pulling on her shoes. "This wasn't fair to you. I shouldn't have let things go so far."

"I wouldn't change a thing." His dark eyes were serious but soft. "I meant what I said. You're everything I've ever wanted, Scarlett. I'm not giving up that easily."

Her heart constricted. She wanted to believe him, wanted to throw caution to the wind and trust that this could work. But a person doesn't repeat the same phrase over and over for ten years and just stop believing it. She repeated the phrase again now. "You can't leave, and I can't stay. That's it."

Nate crossed the room and knelt beside her. He gently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "But you're wrong, Scar. You can stay if you want. We'll figure this out together." He tipped her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"I wish it were that simple," she said, blinking back tears. "But there's so much you don't understand."

"Then help me understand. Because I'm not giving up this time. It was dumb for you to leave in the first place. It was dumb for me to let you. It was dumb to just let things stay that way for so long. And yeah, I can be kinda dumb sometimes, but ten years of dumb is more than enough, even for me."

Scarlett paused, emotions swirling. She wanted to cling to him, to believe they could build something together. But the memory of Papa's death loomed, clinging to her like she'd walked through a cobweb that she'd never shake off.

She wiped her eyes, kissed Nate on the cheek, and said, "I have to go."