Page 56 of The Story Between Us

He sat back in his chair. Stared at the screen. Let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding for three years.

The house was quiet. Livvie must have gone back to her aunt’s house hours ago. The dogs were asleep somewhere—he could hear Huck snoring.

But he didn’t feel alone.

Emma’s chair sat in the corner, the blanket undisturbed. And for the first time since she’d died, looking at it didn’t make him want to disappear.

Not bad, he could almost hear her say.

He saved the document. Closed the laptop. And walked upstairs to bed.

Tomorrow, Livvie would come back. Tomorrow, he’d have to tell her what’d happened—the words, the breakthrough, the two thousand three hundred and twelve reasons to believe he might actually finish this book.

Tomorrow, everything might change.

But tonight, for the first time in three years, Nate Rivers fell asleep without dreading what came next.

Ten

Livvie Fox had paint under her fingernails and pancakes on her plate and nowhere in the world she’d rather be.

A week. She’d been here a whole week, and somewhere along the way, she’d stopped counting the days.

She sat at the pine table in Aunt Lila’s kitchen, rain tapping softly against the windows, and let the morning settle around her. The coral-pink cabinets glowed warm against the turquoise walls. The yellow countertops caught the light from the drum pendant lamps overhead. Steam rose from her coffee mug, curling toward the honey-colored ceiling beams, and through the window over the sink, the birch trees swayed, their straw-colored leaves not yet fully transformed.

“More pancakes?”

Aunt Lila stood at the vintage stove, spatula raised, silver hair escaping from its messy bun. She wore her painting smock over pajamas—the one covered in years of accumulated color, blues and greens and a streak of cadmium orange across the pocket. Through the doorway, in the studio, her easels were positioned to catch the lake light, illustration boards propped at angles, brushes soaking in mason jars.

“I shouldn’t.” Livvie eyed the stack on the platter. “But yes. Absolutely yes.”

“That’s my girl.” Lila slid two more onto her plate, golden and perfect, then settled into the mismatched wooden chair across from her with her own mug of tea. “No canoeing today.”

“Not unless you want to drown.”

“I’ve survived worse.” Lila’s eyes crinkled. “What’s on your agenda? More painting at the library?”

Her private project, something she’d told Lila and no one else. She’d sneaked away to the library every morning for the past four days, early, before she headed to Nate’s place.

Livvie nodded, pouring maple syrup—real maple syrup, from the Henderson farm, nothing like the stuff in plastic bottles back home. “I want to start painting the dragon today. I finished sketching it yesterday. Hazel wants the grand opening to be during the Flannel Festival.”

Lila watched her over the rim of her mug, her eyebrow raised.

“What?” Livvie asked.

“Nothing. Just…” Lila set down her tea. “You’re different here. Lighter. Like you’re finally breathing.”

“It’s the fresh air.”

“It’s not the fresh air.” Lila nodded toward the window, toward the green Craftsman visible through the trees—Nate’s place, just down the shore. “It’s not just him either. Though I notice you spend a lot of time over there.”

“I’m working.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I am.” Livvie focused on cutting her pancakes. “He wrote three thousand words yesterday. Something’s changed. He’s inspired.”

“Mm-hmm.”