Page 106 of The Story Between Us

He typed the woman’s response. Her voice, her certainty, her refusal to let Aldric stop, turn back on the journey.

“What about the ordinary days scares you?”

“I don’t know how to have them. I’ve never had them. My whole life has been crisis and survival and putting one foot in front of the other because stopping meant falling apart. But you⁠—”

Aldric reached for her. Kissed her. And Nate felt it in his own chest—the terror, the hope, the decision to stop running.

“You make me want to stop. And I don’t know who I am when I’m not running.”

The woman’s hand in Aldric’s. Her voice, soft and certain:

“Then we’ll figure it out together.”

Nate leaned back in his chair. Read what he’d written.

It was good. It was actually good.

More than good. It was true.

He heard footsteps in the hallway. Livvie appeared in the doorway—and she’d changed clothes. When had she changed clothes? Her hair was brushed now, falling in soft waves. She was wearing something rust-colored and soft jeans that fit better than her everyday ones, ankle boots.

She was dressed for the festival. Even though he hadn’t officially confirmed they were going.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

He looked at her. The way the afternoon light caught her face. The hope she was trying to hide and failing.

He closed the laptop. “Let’s go to the festival.”

Her laugh was bright and surprised and everything he wanted to hear for the rest of his life. “You said that already.”

“I’m saying it again.”

“You’ve been writing for”—she checked her phone—“seven hours. Don’t you want to finish the chapter first?”

“I finished it.”

“The romance scene? The one you’ve been stuck on?”

“Finished.”

She stared at him. “You’re serious.”

“I’m serious. I have one scene left. I’ll finish it tomorrow.” He stood up, and his body protested—stiff everything, that particular ache of sitting too long—but he didn’t care. “Give me twenty minutes to shower and change. Then we’re going.”

“Twenty minutes? That’s optimistic.”

“Fine. Thirty.”

“Still optimistic, but I’ll take it.” She was grinning now, that smile that made him want to write love scenes for the rest of his career. “I’ll be downstairs. Don’t take too long—Edie’s maple bacon bars wait for no one.”

She disappeared down the hallway. He heard her talking to the dogs, her voice light and happy in a way it hadn’t been since the fight about the deadline.

He’d done that. He’d put that happiness in her voice.

He grabbed clean clothes and headed for the shower.

They walked to the festival together.