Page 141 of The Story Between Us

What if it’s magical, and instead, the dragon is the king that disappeared?

The ‘flame’ = their love, not literal fire

What if Kaela is the true redeemer of the prophecy?

Arrows connected ideas. Question marks flagged problems. In the center, circled three times in red:

The prophecy isn’t about dying together. It’s about living together.

His throat closed.

She’d done this for him. After everything—after he’d pushed her away, after she’d lost her job, after she’d flown back to a city that didn’t see her—she’d stayed up all night fixing his broken story.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Livvie said. Her voice came out smaller than he’d ever heard it. “I kept thinking about the ending, and I know it’s not my book, and I know you didn’t ask for my help, but⁠—”

“You’re brilliant.”

She stopped.

Nate stared at the Post-it wall like he’d just discovered treasure. His eyes moved from note to note, following the arrows, reading her thoughts laid bare in neon colors and black Sharpie. The healing-pool callback—of course, he’d set it up in book two and never paid it off. The shared killing blow—two hearts, one blade, it was right there in the prophecy. Elara shielding Aldric instead of dying—transformation instead of sacrifice⁠—

“You’re brilliant,” he said again. “This is—Livvie, this is exactly what I needed. The healing-pool callback. And him and Kaela, the shared killing blow.” He pressed his hand flat against the glass, touching the red-circled center note. “Living together instead of dying together. That’s it. That’s the whole point.”

He glanced at her. “I even like the dragon idea.”

A bare hint of a smile. “It’s your book. These are just ideas⁠—”

“No. It is your book too, Livvie.”

She stared at him.

“Elara might have been the goal, but it’s Kaela who saved him. Who made him into the hero at the end.”

“You didn’t need me, Nate.” She shook her head. “You had the story all along.”

“I had the words.” He reached for her hand again, and she let him take it. Her fingers were cold. He wrapped both hands around them, trying to give her some of his warmth. “You showed me what they meant.”

Her throat moved as she swallowed.

A beat. And then, “Listen, I think if you fix this by tomorrow morning, Richard will still accept it.”

“If we fix it.”

She looked up at him. “We?”

“This is our story, Livvie.” His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand. “Frankly, it might have been all this time. After all, I wrote Kaela into the second story.” He smiled. “The year after the almost-kiss.”

“She was the enemy.”

“No. He was just scared of her power.” He swallowed. “He still is, but at least she’s on his side.”

“She’s always been on his side,” Livvie said softly. And then she exhaled. “But you need to know, I’m not Emma. I can’t replace her.”

“No. You can’t.” He wanted to reach out to her, but not yet. “And I knew that the moment you asked me what my hero was running toward.”

Her breath caught. “What?”

“My sister would have told me what to write.” He stepped closer, erasing the distance she’d created. “She would have said ‘Aldric’s running toward redemption’ or ‘Aldric’s running toward his mentor’s legacy,’ and she would have been right, because she was always right about story.” His hand came up to cup her jaw, and her skin was soft and warm and real. “But you made me figure it out myself. You asked the question and then you waited. You trusted me to find the answer.”