Page 11 of The Story Between Us

The grief hit fresh—not the dull ache he’d gotten used to, but something sharp and immediate. He sat on the edge of her bed. The quilt gave beneath him. The springs creaked.

A notebook sat on her pouf ottoman, the one with the purple cover and the coffee stain on the corner. He placed the cardigan on the bed, then picked up the notebook and flipped to a random page.

Her handwriting:

Aldric has to find Elara. She’s the heir to the magic, the only one who can help him save the kingdom. Only, he can’t do it alone. So…who helps him?

A plot problem. One of dozens she’d left behind.

But beneath her writing⁠—

His handwriting. Neat, architectural.

Aldric. The Keeper of Secrets. Bound by ancient magic to protect the bloodline. Has to cross Thornwood Forest to save her. But how?

He stared at it.

And beside his words, barely visible, a third handwriting. Smaller. Neater than Emma’s, with little stars dotting the i’s.

What if there is a deeper, hidden magic?

He closed the notebook. Put it back on the shelf. Picked up her cardigan and held it for one more moment—the smell of her, the weight of memory—then draped it back over the chair where it belonged.

His phone buzzed again.

He looked at the screen and froze.

What?

Not a number he didn’t recognize. A number he did. A number he’d saved seven years ago and never deleted.

Livvie Fox.

The text appeared below her name.

Livvie

Nate. It’s Livvie. I know it’s been a long time. I’m at Pemberton now, the agency. They’ve asked me to reach out. I don’t know if you want to hear from me, but I wanted you to know: I still believe in those books. I still believe in you. Please give me a call.

He read it three times.

Livvie worked for Pemberton? Probably she had her aunt to blame for that.

He remembered her that last summer—auburn waves falling past her shoulders, freckles dusting her nose and cheeks, hazel eyes that caught the firelight. The delicate rings she’d stack on her fingers, always fidgeting with them when she was thinking. The way she’d tuck her chin into her hand and watch him like she was waiting for something.

Emma’s best friend. His sister’s best friend.

That was all.

Really.

He blew out a breath, shoved the phone into his pocket, and walked back downstairs.

The cursor was still blinking when he sat down. Chapter Three.

His fingers hovered over the keys.

The blank page waited.