Page 47 of The Story Between Us

She gave it an hour.

She washed the breakfast dishes. She scrolled through her phone, answered three emails from Priya (still fishing for gossip), and ignored two from Richard (demanding updates she didn’t have).

The office stayed silent.

At ten thirty, she made her move.

“Huck. Finn.” She opened the back door, keeping her voice bright and casual. “Want to go outside?”

The dogs bolted past her, scrambling down the porch steps toward the lake. She watched them go, counting to ten, then walked quickly down the hall.

The office door was closed. She put her hand on the knob.

This is a violation of trust, the responsible part of her brain said. You shouldn’t be doing this.

She opened the door anyway.

“Hey. The dogs got out…”

The room was empty. Nate wasn’t at his desk. How had he escaped without her knowing? The laptop sat open on the desk, screen glowing.

She crossed to it in three quick steps and looked.

Empty. The document was empty. Not a single word.

Her stomach dropped. So now he was lying to her.

“What did you say?”

She spun around. Nate stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“Um, the dogs got out.”

He gestured vaguely. “So get them in.”

She stepped away from the desk.

He didn’t move. His eyes flicked to the laptop, then back to her face.

“Where were you?”

He raised an eyebrow.

She shook her head. “Never mind. I’ll get them,” she said, and fled.

Huck and Finn were easy to corral—a few treats and they came bounding back, tongues lolling, oblivious to the tension in the house. Livvie got them settled on their beds in the living room and grabbed her jacket from the hook by the door.

“I’m going to grab lunch,” she called toward the office. “Do you want anything?”

Silence.

“I’ll bring you something anyway.”

She was out the door before he could respond.

The Maple Lake library sat five blocks from the town square, a brick building with creaking wood floors and the smell of old paper. Livvie pushed through the front door and stood for a moment, letting the quiet settle around her.

A lobby with a counter to the left. A fireplace straight ahead, cold now but surrounded by armchairs and rugs that looked well-worn from use. Stairs to the second floor on the right. And everywhere, books—on shelves, on tables, stacked on the floor in corners.