Page 45 of The Story Between Us

She believed in him.

And he was out of words.

He opened his mouth to tell her the truth. To say It’s not working. I’m stuck. The seven pages took all I had, and now there’s nothing left.

But her face looked so hopeful. So ready to celebrate. So certain that he would give her good news.

He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t be the reason that light went out of her eyes.

“Great,” he heard himself say. “Really great. I think I’m onto something.”

The lie came out smooth. Easy. Like his mouth knew how to do this even when his brain screamed at him to stop.

Livvie’s whole face lit up.

“Really?” She closed the book. “Nate, that’s amazing!” Then she rose and held up both hands. He stared at them, confused, and then she grabbed his hands and pulled them up into a double high five, her palms warm against his, her smile so big it crinkled the corners of her eyes.

“I knew it!” She squeezed his hands before letting go. “I knew you could do it. The walk worked, right? Getting out of your head, talking it through—I knew that would help.”

“Yeah.” His voice sounded strange to his own ears. Hollow. “Yeah, it helped.”

“Okay.” She practically bounced, gathering her cardigan from the arm of the couch, slipping her feet back into her boots. “I’m going to get out of your hair. Let you keep the momentum going. But this is so great, Nate. This is exactly what we needed.”

She collected her bag, her keys, her jacket. The dogs followed her to the door, tails wagging, disappointed that the nice lady had started leaving.

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning,” she said, turning at the threshold. “Edie’s making maple bacon bars. I’ll bring some.”

“Sounds good.”

“Get some rest, okay? You earned it.”

She smiled at him one more time—that warm, genuine, believing smile—and then walked out. The door closed behind her. Her footsteps crossed the porch, crunched on the gravel, and then headed toward her aunt’s house.

Silence rushed back in.

Nate stood in the middle of his living room, the lie sitting in his chest like a stone.

Huck and Finn watched him, heads tilted, confused about why he didn’t move. Why he just stood there, watching the door she’d walked through.

Nice, Nate.

He walked to the window and stared out at the lake, the water catching the last of the afternoon light.

What if he just left?

The thought surfaced from somewhere dark and desperate. What if he packed the dogs in the truck, drove somewhere—anywhere—disappeared before she came back tomorrow? Before he had to face her with the truth. Before he had to watch that hope drain out of her eyes.

He could run. Might be a change from the hiding he’d been doing for the past three years.

The truck sat in the driveway. He could be two states away by morning.

Finn padded over and leaned against his leg, that solid warm weight he didn’t deserve.

“I’m a coward,” Nate told him. “You know that, right? A coward and a liar.”

Finn’s tail thumped once against the floor. No judgment.

The sun set over Maple Lake, painting everything in shades of amber and purple. Beautiful. The kind of evening Emma would have made him see, would have insisted meant something.