Nathan Scott Oth Novels & Stories

They collided with a set of dark brown ones surrounded by soft, white fur. Emitting a soft giggle, I reached out and scratched Otis on the head, at the same time hearing a groan come from the other side of the room. Sitting up on the couch, I turned my head until I was gazing at the owner of another set of eyes, ones that were squinting against the sunlight coming in through the windows. "Jesus," Nathan breathed, his voice hushed as if fearing anything louder slipping past his lips would make his head fall off his shoulders. Raising his hand, he rubbed at his forehead. "God, my head hurts," he groaned.

His pause is heavy, filled with unspoken meaning, as he studies my reaction, leaving me uncertain whether it's sympathy or something else that flickers in his eyes. His next words strike a nerve, "Zephyra will find someone who’ll care for her more than you ever could, and Scottie will never care about you enough to hate you." It's a harsh truth that I've been trying to avoid facing, but Nathan's directness forces me to confront it head-on.

Nathan added in But a scoff was quick to ease through Matt's lips when she finally raised his head, which had been buried in the file ahead of him. “You don't want them to scout him through the sun? And when exactly did you care about the guard or what they go through? Had you not been the one who stated clearly that they needed to go through all sorts of things to be worth calling a warrior?.” Matt Nathan averted his gaze, not bothering to give a response, but then it was the choice he had not much about to do or bask in.

Tall, quiet, standing in the light. Nathan.