Chapter 26

If I neededa distraction from wondering where Nathan is, what he's doing, and whether he's going to love me back or break my heart, a party at Audrey and Flint's house is perfect.

Sometimes I'm still a little intimidated by my very famous brother-in-law. It's just so weird standing across the kitchen island from Flint Hawthorne, someone I've seen in actual movies, watching him shovel homemade French onion dip into his mouth with a carrot stick.

Not to mention the fact that this gorgeous house—his multi-million-dollar mansion—is right here in Silver Creek. The house I grew up in is only ten minutes down the road. My high school with its faded bleachers and ugly orange lockers is the same high school he attended. He's older than me, so I never knew him before he was famous, but even when I knew that the famous Flint Hawthorne was from my hometown, I didn't think I'd ever actually see him here. It was just some weird random fact, not something that was relevant to my life. He was from Silver Creek. But that didn't mean he'd ever come back.

And yet, here he is.

I'm sure I'll get used to it as time goes on. It doesn't seem to bother Audrey anymore, though, to be fair, she didn't even know he was famous when they first met.

I watch as my older sister steps in beside him, swiping a carrot and taking a bite while she slips an arm around Flint's waist.

On his other side, Mom opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water. "Anyone else want one?" she asks the room at large.

I hold up my hand, and Mom grabs one for me. As she passes behind Flint and Audrey, Flint leans down and presses a kiss to my sister's forehead, and a tiny twinge of pain shoots through my heart.

I wouldn't wish my sister's happiness away for anything, but I'll be glad when the night is over and I'm no longer surrounded by so many happy couples. Flint's entire family is here, celebrating his return after two months shooting on-location in New Zealand. He has three older brothers and one younger sister, all married, some even with kids. Plus, his parents are here, and my parents are here, and Lucy is here with her new doctor boyfriend, who is, incidentally, absolutely too old for her.

The point is, I am the only person here who isn't partnered up. If the universe is taking notes, that just feels rude. Especially when I know who I want my partner to be. I found him, I fell in love with him, and now I'm without him. I put myself out there, I said I love you, and he didn't say it back. It's a terrible, lonely feeling.

Mom dodges Flint's nephew, Jack, as he darts through the kitchen. When she finally reaches me and hands over the promised water bottle, she tilts her head toward Flint and Audrey, who are still wrapped up in each other's arms.

"You're staring, honey," she says. "Are you sure you're okay?"

I look away from my sister and force myself to focus on Mom. "Yeah. Just missing Nathan." It's an honest answer, even if Mom doesn't know the whole truth. As far as she and Dad know, I've only ever been dating Nathan for real.

"I hope we get to meet him soon," Mom says. "Your father really has learned a lot about hockey. He even mentioned wanting to go to a game at some point."

I almost laugh out loud at the thought of Dad, a professional violinist and retired professor, going to a hockey game, but then, it's exactly the kind of thing he would do. For me, if not for his own enjoyment. Even though he spends his free time listening to classical music and reading books and doing crossword puzzles, he's curious by nature and loves to make people feel seen and appreciated. Especially people who are important to the women in his life.

"I can absolutely get you tickets if you really want to come," I say. "The games are a lot of fun."

Mom gives my shoulders a quick squeeze, then moves off to find my dad.

As soon as she's gone, Lucy drops onto the barstool next to where I'm standing. "Still haven't told Mom the truth?" she asks as she pulls a stuffed mushroom cap off one of the overflowing appetizer trays.

Lennox and Tatum, one of Flint's brothers and his wife, are both professionally trained chefs, so food at the Hawthorne family gatherings is always next level.

"Honestly, why would I at this point?" I answer. "We won't keep faking, so if we don't decide to pursue something real, I'll just have to tell her we broke up anyway."

"True," Lucy says. She nudges the tray of stuffed mushrooms toward me. "Try one. They're amazing, and I haven't seen you eat anything since you got here."

I force myself to take a mushroom, but I hardly feel like eating. I'm too keyed up, too preoccupied. I've only heard from Nathan once since he left, when he texted to tell me Blake's charges had been dropped. Otherwise, it's been radio silence. And fine. That's what I told him to do. To take some time, figure out his emotions, not feel like he had to call or text or stay in touch. But the waiting is killing me. Every fifteen seconds, I'm wondering where he is or what he's doing. Is he with his family? Hanging out with his nieces? Is he back in Harvest Hollow already?

"Lucy, what if he doesn't love me back?" I suddenly ask.

Her expression softens. "Then he's a first-class idiot."

"I just keep thinking about what it felt like to say I love you and not have him say it back. Was I crazy to say it in the first place?"

"Not if you feel that way," Lucy says. She reaches over and squeezes my hand. "I know it's hard, Sum. But I have a good feeling about this. I really think everything is going to work out."

I'm about to ask what makes her so sure when Lucy's doctor boyfriend, Eric, walks into the kitchen, hesitating when he sees us sitting side by side at the counter. I know that look. The way he's gazing between us, panic barely concealed.

I can't contain my scoff—he genuinely can't tell us apart.

This should be Lucy's first sign, even more than the age gap, but she just rolls her eyes.

"Shoes, Eric," Lucy says. "Check the shoes."

His eyes drop to her feet, and he nods. "Got it. Right."

Comically, and completely accidentally, Lucy and I are wearing the same dress. It's black and flowy and casual but also a little classy, easy to dress up or down and basically perfect. Usually, we would just buy one and share, but we were shopping right before I moved to Harvest Hollow, and it felt absolutely necessary that we each have our own. We found them on clearance at Nordstrom Rack, there were only two, and they were both in our size. It was fate. We were meant to have them.

Now, we look more like twins than we have since we were kids. We're even wearing our hair the same way—loose waves, parted in the middle. Our shoes don't match, but that's it. If you know us well, there are definite differences, but first glance? It might take a minute to tell us apart.

"I really should have gone and changed," I say, letting out a little laugh.

"Are you kidding? This is so fun," Lucy says. "I used to love it when we matched."

"Even when my boyfriend tried to make out with you instead of me?"

Lucy frowns. "I still say he knew it was me and was just trying to double dip. We weren't even really dressed alike that day. We both had on black shirts. That hardly made us match."

Most of the time growing up, Lucy and I loved being twins, but neither of us ever loved people acting as though we're interchangeable. Guys liked to make that particular joke a lot when we were in high school, and it quickly became a standard we lived by. If guys couldn't figure out a way to tell us apart, they weren't worth our time.

I don't remind Lucy of this rule, since Eric looks like he's considering handcuffing himself to her just to keep from mixing us up.

"That guy was a jerk," I say.

"Agreed." Lucy lifts a cracker covered in some sort of melty brie cheese. "Here's to hoping Nathan knows you with his eyes closed."

"I'll toast to that," I say, grabbing my own cracker.

"Hey, Summer, where's the new boyfriend?" Lila asks, her smile warm and sincere.

Lila is married to Perry, Flint's oldest brother, and she's lovely and wonderful and so completely sweet, I can't be mad that she's asking. Not when she has no reason to suspect anything out of the ordinary.

I meet Audrey's eye over Lila's shoulder, and she grimaces, mouthing the word sorry, but I wave away her apology. The belief that I have a boyfriend isn't anyone's fault but my own.

I smile at Lila. "He's with his family this weekend," I say. "Up in Maine."

"Oh, that's too bad. Jack is a huge Appies fan. He was hoping he'd get to meet him. Next time, maybe." Lila smiles as she fixes a plate for Jack, skipping over the mushrooms and brie and opting for the chicken tenders and several pieces of fruit.

"Do you think he'd sign my jersey?" Jack asks. He's gotten bigger since I saw him last, his face starting to lose some of the little kid roundness it had before.

"I'm sure he would," I say. I just have to get him here. Assuming he wants to be here in the first place—assuming he'll let himself love me back.

Honestly, I can't think of anything I would love more than for Nathan to meet everyone. To hear my dad fumble his way through asking questions about a sport he knows nothing about simply because he loves me. To see him joking with Flint or playing with Audrey's niece and nephews.

Mostly, I just want him with me. Wherever I am.

The constant questions and reminders of his absence are starting to get to me, so I look around the room, wondering how soon I can plot my escape.

I'm staying with Audrey and Flint, so it would be as easy as simply sneaking off to my room, but it's not even eight o'clock yet. My absence would definitely be noted—at least by Lucy.

"Lucy, honey, your phone's ringing," Mom says from across the living room, and Lucy jumps up and hurries toward her.

"Oh, it's probably just the hospital," she says. She grabs the phone, glancing at me over her shoulder as she hurries down the hall, away from the commotion of the party.

Pretty sure she told me she was not on call tonight, so I have no idea what that was about.

A few feet away, Eric clears his throat. "Your shoes are pink." He looks at me, his gaze focused. "Summer's shoes are pink," he repeats, like he's trying to cement the fact in his memory.

"Well done, Doctor," I say, not even trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

I mean, come on. We're identical, yes, but if he would just look at Lucy's face for five seconds, he would notice the tiny mole she has beside her left eye, or the scar just below her hairline from when she split her head open on the diving board. Bare minimum, he would notice that she's wearing an incredible turquoise pendant that looks great with her skin and is nothing like the silver teardrop necklace I'm wearing.

Across the room, a slight commotion breaks out when several of the Hawthorne brothers converge on the front door. "Who is it?" Perry asks. "Does anyone else have the code?"

Flint's house is remote, with a long, winding drive that's gated at least a mile from the house. Family members have a nine-digit code—yes, nine—they can use to get through the gate, but all of Flint's family is already here.

My pulse spikes, and I immediately think of Nathan.

Of course, it's just wishful thinking. He hasn't texted, and there's no way he could find this place without my help. But my heart keeps pounding anyway, like the mere suggestion of his presence is enough to trigger a reaction.

"It's not a car I recognize," Brody, another brother, says. He pushes Flint away from the door, placing his body firmly between his younger brother and whatever stranger just pulled up outside.

I almost ask what kind of car it is, but then Lucy comes running into the room, phone in hand. "Don't freak out," she says a little breathlessly. "It's okay. I'm the one who gave him the code. He's here for me." She turns and looks at me. "Or…you, really."

My skin flushes hot as my stomach swoops down to my feet.

Nathan is here? Right outside?

A knock sounds at the door, and Lucy steps toward me, squeezing my hands. "Don't be mad. He got my number from Gracie. He wanted to surprise you."

Flint moves to the door, his brothers falling back but still staying close, flanking him not unlike the way Nathan's teammates backed him up when they were scaring Jason away. It makes me love this family for my sister. These people are loyal and devoted, and it makes me happy they have welcomed her so completely.

But poor Nathan. I doubt he's expecting four frowning Hawthornes to greet him.

"Can I help you?" Flint says in a low, menacing voice. It's the same voice he uses in his Agent Twelve movies, and it immediately makes me roll my eyes.

I can't see Nathan through the wall of men in front of me, but I do hear him clear his throat and say, "I'm looking for Summer?"

Oh my heart. I'm not sure I've ever heard Nathan sound intimidated.

"Flint," Audrey says through a laugh. "Stop."

"Hey, man, sorry," Flint says, stepping aside with a good-natured laugh. "I was just messing with you. Come on in."

Finally, the Hawthornes shift out of the way, and there he is.

Nathan.

He's wearing dress pants and a button-down shirt, tucked in and looking oh so perfect as it stretches across his broad chest.

His eyes scan the room, landing on Lucy, who is standing closer to him than I am, but then they immediately shift to me. When his gaze meets mine, he smiles. The big smile. The real one. The one I saw through the plexiglass when Nathan and I were first pretending at the game.

Heat spreads through my chest.

Take that, Dr. Eric. Nathan knows who I am with one glance.

"Hi," I say, my voice a little breathless.

"Hey."

We stand there awkwardly, staring, not talking, long enough for everyone else to start looking at each other, probably wondering why, if this is my boyfriend, I haven't walked over to him yet.

But this isn't just a regular Hello. A So happy to see you after your weekend away.

This is a beginning.

At least I hope that's what it is. I guess it's possible he called my sister and came all this way just to reject me in person. But based on the hopeful smile on Nathan's face, I don't think that's the case.

Finally, Lucy steps closer and nudges me, startling me into action. I walk slowly at first, eyes never leaving Nathan, but then he starts moving toward me, and I break into a run, launching myself into his arms. He picks me up, spinning me around while I bury my face in his neck.

He's here.

He's here, and he's holding me, and he's warm and solid and good, and he's mine. He doesn't even have to say it for me to know. I can tell by the way he's holding me, pressing his face into my shoulder.

"You're here," I say as he lowers me to the floor.

"Sorry I didn't tell you I was coming," he says, his voice low. "It killed me not to text you. But I wanted to surprise you. I hope it was worth it?"

I sniff and wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. "Definitely worth it."

He looks over my shoulder, his eyes darting around, and I suddenly remember the crowd of people behind me. The moment I was in Nathan's arms, everyone else completely faded from my mind.

"I hate to pull you away from the party, but is there somewhere we can talk?" Nathan asks. His lips quirk into a grin. "Maybe an empty pantry we could hide in?"

I look behind me. My parents are watching closely, their smiles wide, and I would love for Nathan to meet them and Lucy, and Audrey and Flint. But not yet. If Nathan wants to talk, that has to be a priority.

"I can do better than the pantry," I say. I grab Nathan's hand and tug him toward the front door, leading him back outside. I shoot one last look over my shoulder, and Audrey meets my eye, shooing me out with a broad smile of approval.

"Go on!" she urges. "We can all meet him later."

Nathan and I walk hand in hand around the side of Flint's house and into the backyard. It's finally starting to feel like spring, so the night air is cool but not unpleasant. We stop at the back corner of the yard where stone steps lead down to a patio with a firepit in the center. There's already a fire burning, several cushioned chairs positioned around it.

Around the patio, tiny twinkle lights illuminate the trees, creating an atmosphere I couldn't have planned better had I tried.

"Want to sit?" I ask, motioning toward the chairs.

"Not yet," Nathan says. He drops my hand, his body practically vibrating with energy as he brushes his fingers through his hair. He takes a deep breath, ratcheting my sense of anticipation higher and higher.

"Sorry," he says softly. "I'm nervous."

I bite my lip. "Good nervous or bad nervous?"

Nathan smiles. "Good nervous?"

My heart squeezes, and I step toward him, lifting my hands to his chest, loving the feel of his arms as they circle my waist.

"Don't be nervous," I say. "It's just me."

He drops his face, pressing it into my hair. "I missed you," he says. "I hated being away from you."

His words ease the tension I've been carrying around all weekend, and I lean up, pressing a kiss to the side of his jaw. "I missed you, too."

He holds me for another long moment before dropping his arms from my waist and picking up my hands, holding them between us. "Summer, I'm not going to say any of this right. I'm not…good at this part. I don't…" His words are shaky, but his eyes are radiating warmth and confidence.

I lift a hand to his cheek, sliding my fingers over his beard. "You're doing great."

He leans into my touch, his eyes closing for a moment. "I love you, Summer," he says, and my breath catches in my throat. I wasn't expecting him to start there—to go right for it—and now it happened so fast, I feel like I missed it.

"Can you just…say that one more time?" I say, my voice trembling.

Nathan squeezes my hands. "I love you. And I'm sorry I didn't say it before. I was scared and overwhelmed and those are the kinds of feelings I've been running from for a very long time. But I'm done running. I know I haven't been seeing things right—that I've got some messed up ideas about relationships. But if you're still willing to gamble on someone as screwed up as I am, I want to try. I want to try to love you like you deserve."

I push up on my toes and press my lips to his. His mouth is warm and soft and yielding, and I melt against him, pouring every ounce of what I'm feeling into the kiss.

I need him to know how much I appreciate that he's trying. That he's willing to be vulnerable, to risk love. I need him to know that I believe with my whole soul that any sacrifice I have to make to love him will be well worth the reward of having him love me back.

I'm too practical to think this will always be easy. But I'd rather face life"s challenges with Nathan than I would with anyone else.

"I love you too," I whisper against his lips. "I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit, but I love you. And I believe in you enough for the both of us."

Nathan holds my gaze for a long moment, his expression full of love and wonder and awe. He shakes his head and lets out a little chuckle. "I don't deserve you. But I'll spend every day trying to live like I do."

He lifts a hand to my cheek, his fingers grazing across my skin until his large palm cups the side of my neck, his fingers threading through my hair. Suddenly, the moment shifts, the energy morphing from something tender into something slightly more charged.

Nathan licks his lips, and I close my eyes as his fingers press into my scalp.

Oh. Oh.

This is good.

My skin is on fire. My throat is dry. And every nerve ending in my body is awake and tuned to him. My heart has been craving this for days, but now my body is craving him too, heat coiling low in my belly. Nathan's eyes flash with desire, his expression molten as he drops his mouth to mine. He kisses me deeper this time, his tongue brushing across my bottom lip and stealing my breath. Holding onto my shoulders, he shifts us backward, sitting down in the nearest chair and tugging me onto his lap.

I sense his control—his awareness that we're in my sister's backyard with over a dozen people just around a row of hedges and through a glass patio door. The fire is banked for now, but I find myself thinking, as he kisses me again and again, what it will be like when there's no need for that control. When he can love me with his heart and his hands and his body.

The anticipation alone is torture. Blissful, exquisite torture.

"Hey!" Lucy calls, popping her head around the row of hedges. "Just a friendly heads up that the parents are on their way out to meet you. Consider this your two-minute warning!"

"Were you seriously just spying on us from the bushes?" I ask.

"Uh, of course I was," Lucy says. "How else could I warn you?"

Nathan presses one final kiss to my collarbone as Lucy disappears, then shifts, making it possible for me to stand up. The last thing I want to do at the moment is hang out with my parents, but I can't fault them for wanting to meet him.

"So, do you and your sister frequently dress alike?" Nathan asks.

"Not on purpose," I say through a laugh. "Believe it or not, it was completely accidental tonight. Actually, how did you know who was who?"

Nathan's expression shifts, like he can't even believe I had to ask the question. "I just knew," he says. "It seemed pretty obvious to me."

A tiny confetti cannon explodes in my chest. And he didn't even have to look at my shoes.

My parents appear beside the fire pit moments later, and Lucy, Audrey, and Flint follow quickly behind. Nathan holds his own, blushing the tiniest bit when Flint admits to being an Appies fan, but he doesn't even flinch when my dad brings up left wing locks and wants to know whether it's ever something the Appies implement in their defensive strategies.

Eventually, the rest of the party moves outside too, and it becomes more about everyone hanging out than everyone meeting my new boyfriend.

My new old boyfriend? My no-longer-fake boyfriend.

After Lucy's doctor goes home, she finds me next to the fire, snuggled up in an Appies hoodie Nathan retrieved from his car. "Nice sweatshirt," she says.

"You know, Nathan has a lot of teammates. And some of them are very pretty."

"As pretty as he is?"

"Hmm," I say. "Not a single one."

"You're biased."

"Yes. But for real. Nice guys. And all with amazing glutes. I'd be happy to introduce you."

She eyes me. "You hated him that much, huh?"

I grimace. "Lucy, I think he would have put a nametag on you if you'd have let him."

She sighs. "I know. I'm beginning to think he doesn't ever actually look at my face."

"I think you can do better."

She drops her head onto my shoulder. "I think I can too."

Across the fire pit, Nathan is talking to Flint, the firelight picking up the hints of honey-gold in his hair.

"He's really great, Summer," Lucy says, her voice low. "He was so sweet when he called me to ask if I would help."

"So that's why you said you had a good feeling about things. You already knew he was on his way."

"I did," she says. "And it killed me not to tell you. He called to get the gate code, and I almost caved right then. But that look on your face when you saw him—that was worth it."

I look up and catch Nathan's gaze across the fire, and he smiles, sending a wave of peace and contentedness washing over me.

Later, after everyone else has gone home and Flint and Audrey have gone to bed, Nathan and I sit alone in the quiet living room. He's leaned back on the couch, and I'm curled into his side, my head resting on his chest while his hand runs up and down my back.

"Do you ever get weirded out by the fact that you're staying in Flint Hawthorne's house?" he asks.

"No more than I get weirded out about being Nathan Sanders's girlfriend."

"Girlfriend, huh?"

I lift my head and smile up at him. "A real one this time. I picked the title myself. Do you like it?"

He smirks. "I like it. But I'm not even a tenth as famous as Flint Hawthorne."

"Depends on who you ask. In some circles, you're more famous."

"In zero circles, Summer. He's Flint Hawthorne."

I lift my shoulder in a playful shrug. "Meh. He's not that special. You've got at least three inches on the guy. And you beat people up for a living, while he only pretends to."

"Are you saying you'd take a hockey player over a movie star?"

"I'm saying I'd take you over anyone. And that doesn't have anything to do with hockey. Though," I say, lifting my hand and sliding it under his shirt, which he untucked once everyone left. I brush my fingers over the ridges of his abdominal muscles. "I don't mind this part of hockey."

Nathan closes his eyes as I trace a slow line down his skin, stopping when I reach the waistband of his dress pants. "I don't mind you not minding," he says, his voice low.

I settle back against his chest, loving that I can touch him like this, that I can be with him for real. "Oh, hey, I forgot to ask you something," I say. I sit up and school my features, wanting to deliver this without cracking. I've been saving this joke for a long time. It's terrible—truly the worst—but I am one hundred percent positive it is exactly the kind of joke that will make Nathan smile.

Not that I need the jokes anymore. He's smiled at me tonight every time he's looked at me. But I've been saving this one anyway, and right now feels like the perfect moment.

"Yeah? What is it?" Nathan asks.

His tone is so serious, so earnest, I almost break. But I keep it together and ask, "Did I tell you I finally figured out what enforcers do on the ice?"

He narrows his gaze, like he can't quite tell if I'm joking or not. "You did not," he says slowly.

I shrug, like I fully expected his answer. "Okay. Justchecking."

Nathan freezes, holding my gaze before the brightest, most beautiful smile stretches across his face.

Then he throws his head back, eyes closed, and my very grumpy, perfectly imperfect, love-of-my-life hockey player starts to laugh.