Page 26 of The Story Between Us

Livvie rounded, her eyes wide, her mouth open.

Okay, yes. But he needed air.

“Nate?”

He gripped the edge of the desk, his knuckles going white. His heart slammed against his ribs like it was trying to escape. “You need to leave.”

“What? I⁠—”

“Now.” He stood up too fast, the room tilting, and forced himself toward the door. Toward the hallway. Toward the front of the house, where the exit waited. “Please. You need to leave now.”

“Nate, I don’t understand. I just tried to⁠—”

He opened the front door. The September air rushed in, cool and sharp, and he gulped it like a drowning man. The porch. The yard. The lake glittering in the distance. Escape routes he couldn’t take because she remained here, still in his house, still holding Emma’s notebook like it belonged to her.

Livvie appeared in the doorway, her face a mess of hurt and confusion. The afternoon sun warmed the bronze in her hair, turned her hazel eyes almost gold, and even now—even in the middle of whatever was happening to him—some traitorous part of his brain registered that she still looked beautiful. That she’d always looked beautiful.

Please, leave.

“I’m sorry if I⁠—”

“You’ve wasted a trip, Livvie. And I’m sorry, but I need you to go.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then something in her expression shifted.

Not pity. Something else. Something worse.

Understanding.

“I’m staying at my aunt’s place,” she said quietly. “If you change your mind.”

He didn’t answer.

“I’m not giving up on this, Nate.”

She walked past him, down the porch steps, across the gravel drive. The dogs tried to follow her, whining, and he had to call them back. Had to watch her get in the rental car and start the engine and back down the driveway without looking at him.

The silver sedan disappeared around the curve.

He closed the door.

His legs gave out somewhere between the door and the couch.

He ended up on the floor, back against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest like a kid hiding from a thunderstorm. The panic crested now—wave after wave of it, that horrible airless sensation, his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest.

Breathe. You’re supposed to breathe. In for four, out for four. Isn’t that what the therapist said?

He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t think. He could only sit there and shake and wait for his body to stop betraying him.

The dogs crept over. Huck settled against his side, warm and solid. Finn put his head in Nate’s lap, those big brown eyes full of worry.

They stayed like that for a long time. The light shifted. The house creaked and settled around them. Slowly, so slowly, his heartbeat eased, leaving that familiar hollow exhaustion in its wake.

Nate tipped his head back against the wall. Stared at the ceiling.

She’d seen everything. The mess. The blank page. The litter of coffee cups on his desk.

I’m not giving up on this, Nate.