Page 142 of The Story Between Us

“I didn’t know the answer.”

“Neither did I. Until you asked.” His thumb brushed her cheekbone. “You’re not her replacement. You’re not anyone’s replacement. You’re Livvie. And I see you.” His other hand found her waist, drawing her closer. “And I’m very, very aware that you’re not my sister.”

He kissed her.

Not like on the beach, tentative, testing. Not like the moonlit path—gentle and full of promise. This kiss was certainty. Her mouth opening under his, her hands fisting in his flannel, and the sound she made—soft and wanting—when he pulled her closer.

He kissed her until he forgot about the Post-it notes and the deadline and the mess he’d made of the ending. Until the only thing that existed was her hands and the way she tasted like hope and homecoming.

When they finally broke apart, he was breathing hard and his forehead was pressed against hers and he had no idea what came next. But for the first time in three years, that didn’t terrify him.

“You’re my happy ending,” he said. His voice was rough. Wrecked. “And I’m hoping I can be yours too.”

Livvie laughed—a real laugh, bright and startled and full of joy. “That’s a little sappy,” she said. “Please don’t write that.”

He grinned. The full grin, the one he’d almost forgotten he had. “I’ll write what I want.”

“Nate—”

“You can edit it later.”

And then he kissed her again, and she stopped arguing, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that they had a deadline and a broken ending and a whole future to figure out⁠—

But that could wait.

Right now, he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

In the middle of his messy, broken, and beautiful story.

Nineteen

The bakery smelled like cinnamon and maple and the particular sweetness of a town waking up.

Nate pushed through the door of Maple Sweets at 6:22 a.m., the bell chiming overhead, cold air swirling in behind him. Remi looked up from behind the counter, her dark hair already escaping its ponytail. The display case glowed warm—rows of maple pecan doughnuts, apple fritters, cinnamon rolls fat with icing.

“You’re early.” She grinned. “Let me guess. The usual?”

“Two of the usual.”

“Two?” Her eyebrows rose. “Progress.”

He didn’t dignify that with a response. Just watched her box up the maple pecan doughnuts—still warm, the glaze not quite set—and tried not to notice the way she kept glancing at him like he’d done something remarkable by showing up two days in a row.

The chapter counter still stood beside the chalkboard. Someone had added new words in pink marker: Nate Rivers—Book 5 COMPLETE. Now get started on Book 6!

A little heart beside the exclamation point. Same handwriting as before.

“Maren’s already asking when the next one comes out,” Remi said, sliding the box across the counter. “She wants to do a midnight release party at the bookstore. I told her to give you at least a week.”

“Generous.”

“I’m a generous person.” She took his money, made change, then paused with the coins in her palm. “It’s good to see you, Nate. Not just today. Every day. It’s good to see you back.”

He pocketed the change. Picked up the box. The warmth seeped through the cardboard into his palms.

“It’s good to be back.”

The lake house appeared through the pines, morning light turning the windows to gold. Smoke curled from the chimney—Livvie had arrived and started a fire. The scent of woodsmoke hung in the cold air, mixing with pine and the mineral smell of the lake.