30. Chapter Thirty Nathan

Chapter Thirty: Nathan

N o…not her.

She couldn't do this.

The moonlight filtered through the towering redwoods, casting long shadows that seemed to reach for us, as if wanting to pull us into the darkness. Abby's shaking hands held the gun to her own chin, ready to kill herself instead of me.

She had flipped the script on me so fast my head was still spinning.

"Abby," I started, my voice barely squeezing past the lump in my throat. "Please, put the gun down." My hands hovered in the air, unsure if making any sudden moves would be my last. Everything felt surreal, like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from.

The gun shook in her grip, but it didn't lower an inch. I could see the way her finger toyed with the trigger, and sweat beaded on my forehead despite the chill in the air. It hit me then, hitting me harder than a fist to the gut–she was my world, the axis on which everything spun, the one thing I couldn't bear to lose.

"Listen to me, Abby," I pleaded, my voice hoarse as if I'd been screaming for hours. "I need you. You're everything to me."

My words tripped over themselves, tumbling out in a messy cascade of fear and love. The gravity of the situation weighed on me, each second stretching out like an eternity as I waited for her response.

Her eyes, swollen with tears, bore into mine, the glint of the moonlight off the gun's barrel a stark reminder of the peril we were in. "You," she choked out, her voice laced with a cocktail of rage and despair, "you made me love you. You changed me, you…you fucking made me yours. And now…how dare you ask me to put a bullet in your head?"

"Abby, I didn't— I'm sorry." My words came out in a torrent, my mind racing for something, anything that might reach her. "I never meant to hurt you like this. I swear on everything that matters, Abby, please, just put the gun down."

But there was nothing in the rulebook of life that could have prepared me for this moment—no protocol for when the woman you love holds your own gun to her head. The forest around us seemed to hold its breath along with me, waiting for her next move.

"Please," I implored again, my voice barely above a whisper, afraid that anything louder might tip her over the edge. "I can't lose you."

"Then why?" Her voice cracked, the accusation hanging between us like a tangible force. "Why act like you want to get rid of me?"

I could feel the tension in every muscle, the air thick with the scent of pine and danger. My heart pounded against my ribcage, a relentless drumbeat that echoed her question.

Why?

Because I was a fool, because I'd gotten caught up in the life I was born into, because I'd failed to protect her from this madness.

There was only one thing left to try.

"Abby, I'm going to move my hands," I murmured, my voice hoarse with emotion. "Don't freak out, okay? I just need to reach into my pocket."

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion etched into every line of her face, but she remained silent, the gun unwavering in her trembling hand.

Slowly, so slowly it felt like I was moving through molasses, I reached my right hand into my coat pocket. The fabric brushed against my fingers, my own breath sounding like thunder in my ears. In that moment, I realized I had pushed her to the brink of madness. The woman I loved more than life itself teetered on the edge, and I loathed myself for bringing her to this precipice.

But I loved her, and I wouldn't—couldn't—let her go.

My hand closed around the small, velvet box. I pulled it out, my movements careful and measured as if any sudden jolt would shatter the fragile moment into a thousand irretrievable pieces.

"Look," I said, voice barely above a whisper, as I presented the box to her.

Her crying intensified, tears streaming down her cheeks as she brought her free hand to her mouth in shock, muffling the sobs that were trying to claw their way out of her throat. I watched, heart lurching, as the gun in her other hand quivered dangerously. It was a sickening reminder of how close we were to oblivion.

"Are you seriously doing this now?" Abby's voice cracked through her tears, incredulous and raw. "You're an asshole, Nathan." The insult was a choked laugh, at odds with the seriousness of the situation. She looked at me with eyes that held a storm within them, that vibrant, emerald green breaking me and remaking me. "Don't you dare ask me this if you don't mean it."

"Abby," I said, my voice steadier than I felt, "there's nothing I've ever meant more in my life."

She said nothing; just sobbed again, her shoulders shuddering. I took a deep breath, steadying myself against the torrent of emotions that threatened to capsize me. The box felt heavy in my hand, laden with more than just the promise of a ring.

It was the weight of my future, our future, hanging precariously between us.

"I love you," I declared, the words carving themselves into the night air, irrevocable and true. "I love you and it scares the hell out of me…but after this moment, I'm yours completely."

With trembling fingers, I flipped the lid open, revealing the ring that I'd chosen for her—a band of white gold with clusters of emeralds and a diamond at the center. The gemstones caught the moonlight and made faint rainbows flicker across her face, her eyes wide.

"Abby, will you marry me?"

The forest around us held its breath. The canopy of redwoods seemed to lean in closer, witnessing the gravity of this moment. Abby's gaze flickered down to the ring, then back up to meet mine, her expression a tangle of love, fear, and disbelief.

She exhaled, long and slow, a sound that seemed to come from the very depths of her. "Yes," she whispered fiercely, a tear trailing down her cheek. "I want that. Yes."

But the gun remained in her hand, a stark reminder of where we'd been just moments before. She held it as if she'd forgotten it was there, or perhaps as if letting go meant letting go of something else—some last defense against the hope I was offering her.

She needed me to tell her what to do.

"Turn the safety on, Abby," I said with a calmness I didn't feel. My voice, low and commanding, seemed to reach through the fog that clouded her mind. She blinked, and her fingers obeyed, moving mechanically to click the safety into place.

I rose slowly, making no sudden moves that might startle her. With a careful motion, I reached out and took the gun from her hands, feeling its cold weight for a brief moment before tossing it aside, where it disappeared among the ferns and underbrush.

Then, as though we were alone in the world, just us and the ancient trees, I took her trembling hand in mine. Sliding the ring onto her finger was like turning a key to unlock something new within us both.

It was a promise, solid and real, glinting there in the quiet majesty of the redwoods.

We stood there, motionless, the only sound our mingled breaths and the distant call of a night creature. The mist swirled around us, painting everything with silver strokes, and the moon, hanging full above, bathed us in its ethereal glow.

Abby's eyes, those deep wells of emotion, moved from the ring back to me. In them, I saw a storm of feelings—regret, hope, love—all merging into a single, piercing look that seemed to say everything she couldn't put into words.

Abruptly, she closed the distance between us, her lips finding mine with a passion that rocked me to my core. I steadied myself, grasping her face in my hands, feeling the dampness of her cheeks. "I love you," I whispered against her lips, each word a vow that twined around my heart.

Her response was immediate, her kiss fervent and demanding, as if trying to communicate all her fears, her love, her relief into the very fabric of my being.

I matched her intensity, my own emotions raw and exposed. The frenzied beat of my heart felt like it could burst through my chest at any moment.

Driven by a need deeper than desire, I gently pushed her back until she was pressed up against the cool bark of a towering redwood, whispering "I love you" again, again. My kisses trailed from her mouth down her neck, where I paused to nip at her skin, marking her in a primal act that spoke of possession and belonging.

Her hands, urgent and unyielding, fumbled with the button of my pants, her movements fueled by a fervor that mirrored my own. Her fingers slipped inside, finding me hard and ready, and she wrapped around me with a firmness that drew a groan from the depths of my throat.

"Abby," I gasped, as she began to stroke me with a rhythm as chaotic and unrestrained as the situation we found ourselves in. She kissed me again, fiercely, and in the heat of the moment, her teeth caught my lip, the sharp pain mingling with the intense pleasure of her touch. The blood on my lips smeared across hers, the taste heady and metallic.

Without breaking our kiss, I reached down, my hand sliding under the hem of her dress, fingers brushing against the lace of her panties. With one swift movement, I yanked the delicate fabric aside, lining myself up with her. Every fiber of my being was focused on this moment, on Abby, on the connection that had turned my world upside down and reshaped it around her.

I thrust inside her, raw and unfiltered emotion transforming into physical motion. A guttural groan escaped my lips and blended with Abby's cry, piercing the darkness around us. Our noises were primitive, unrestrained—like animals here in this ancient forest.

Her back pressed against the rough bark of the redwood, she braced herself, arms wrapped around my neck, pulling me deeper into her embrace. I held her by the ass, gripping her flesh with a possessiveness that surged through my veins like wildfire. She lifted her legs, wrapping them around my hips, her heels digging into me, urging me on.

We moved together in a frenzied pace, our bodies chasing the pinnacle of pleasure that loomed just within reach. Her cries grew louder, mingling with mine, echoing off the towering trees that stood witness to our union.

"Abby," I panted, my voice lost amidst the symphony of nocturnal sounds and our shared climax that was building like a storm on the horizon.

"Please, Nathan," she begged, her voice breaking as we both teetered on the edge of release.

The world narrowed down to the two of us, everything else fading into insignificance. We raced towards oblivion, our cries crescendoing into the night, each call and response propelling us closer until we reached the peak together.

With the force of her kiss, of her pussy clenching around me, the last of my restraint shattered. I came inside her, groaning against her lips, tangling my fingers in her hair.

We held each other close as we trembled in the aftershocks of what we'd sparked between us. My arms were still wrapped around her, holding her close, protecting her from everything except me. And in that moment, I was gentle with her, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. She met my eyes, and something unspoken passed between us—a promise, a future.

"Abby," I whispered, each kiss a tender echo of my earlier desperation. "I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered.

With care, I stroked her hair away from her face, tucking stray strands behind her ear, taking in every detail as if seeing her for the first time. Leaning back in, I kissed her once more, softly, savoring the taste of her, the heat of her, the sheer miracle of her presence.

Gently, I lowered her to the ground, her feet finding purchase on the forest floor. She looked up at me, confusion and wonder etched across her features.

"What now?" she asked, vulnerability lacing her words.

"Let's go home," I murmured, the intensity of what had transpired between us lingering like a tangible force. "I have so much to tell you."