Page 143 of The Story Between Us

It smelled like home. His home, no longer under the threat of foreclosure.

Emma was still here—her notebooks on the shelves, her mug in the cupboard, her chair on the porch—but thanks to one persistent woman, it no longer felt haunted.

Huck and Finn bounded off the porch the moment his truck pulled into the drive, tails wagging, circling his legs as he climbed out. Frost crunched under his boots. The grass had gone silver overnight, each blade edged in white.

“Traitors,” he told them. “Both of you.”

Finn’s tail wagged harder.

He carried the doughnuts up the porch steps and stopped.

Two kayaks leaned against the railing. His old green one, scratched and faded from years of use, the hull worn smooth in places. And beside it, a red one—new, the paint still bright, the surface unmarked.

He’d bought it three days ago. Driven to Duluth, walked into the outdoor store, and pointed at the first kayak he saw. The saleswoman had asked if he wanted to compare models. He’d said no. He knew exactly what he needed.

He’d already donated Emma’s to the local waterfront.

Livvie needed her own.

The screen door creaked open.

Livvie stepped onto the porch in his oversized sweater—the gray wool one, the one that hung past her thighs and swallowed her whole. Her hair fell loose, catching the early light. Coffee steamed in her hands. The silver fox ring glinted on her finger.

He planned on replacing that soon.

She looked at him. Looked at the doughnut box.

“Maple Sweets?”

“Where else?”

She took the box from his hands, opened it, and bit into a doughnut without ceremony. Glaze stuck to her lip. She didn’t seem to notice.

“So,” she said, chewing. “The next book.”

“What about it?”

“My ex-boss called yesterday. While you ran to the hardware store.” She took another bite. “He wants to know if you have any ideas. Apparently the preorders for book five are through the roof. He used the phrase ‘strike while the iron is hot.’ Twice.”

“Did he?”

“He did.” She licked glaze from her thumb. “I told him you’d get back to him.”

Nate looked at the lake. Mist hung low over the water, soft and silver, the far shore just visible through the haze. The sun crept above the tree line, turning the sky from gray to pink to gold. A heron stood motionless in the shallows near the dock, waiting.

“I need some time on the lake first.”

“Okay.”

“Clear my head.”

“Makes sense.”

He picked up the green kayak, tucked it under his arm. Reached for the red one. The weight settled familiar against his side. “Are you coming?”

She set down her coffee on the porch railing. Brushed the doughnut crumbs from his sweater—her sweater now, apparently. That seemed to be how it worked.

“Yes.”