10. Nate
Chapter ten
Nate
The house is silent, the kind of silence that presses against your ears and makes every creak of the floorboard sound like an alarm. I stare at the blinking cursor on my laptop, the soft glow of the screen illuminating the dark corners of my office.
Work. That’s what I should be focused on. There are contracts to review, emails to send, plans for the marina expansion to finalize. But my mind keeps drifting, circling back to the same thought, the same person.
Liz.
Her laughter echoes in my head, light and unrestrained, the way it filled the store earlier today as she teased me about pineapples and sour gummy worms. The memory alone is enough to make my chest tighten, and I slam the laptop shut with more force than necessary.
What the hell is wrong with me?
She’s off-limits. Off. Limits.
I repeat the words in my head like a mantra, but they do little to quell the image of her smiling at Max, ruffling his hair like she’s always been part of our lives. It’s not just her presence; it’s the way she fits. Too perfectly. Too naturally. And it terrifies me.
I scrub my hand down my face, frustration bubbling under my skin. Sleep isn’t happening tonight, not with this storm raging in my chest.
With a sigh, I reach for my phone, hoping the glow of the screen will distract me. But the moment I unlock it, I’m greeted by a series of unread messages from Becky.
Let’s talk. Lunch tomorrow?
We need to work things out for Max’s sake.
Dinner Friday? Just the two of us. Like old times.
My jaw clenches, and I toss the phone onto the desk as if it’s burned me. Becky’s attempts to worm her way back into my life are glaring, persistent, and, frankly, exhausting. But I’ve grown numb to them. She doesn’t matter anymore – she’s just the woman who bore my son. She doesn’t compare to Liz in any way.
Liz.
I push the thought aside and head to the kitchen, hoping a glass of water will help. The moonlight spills through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor. I drink the water slowly, letting the sound of my swallows fill the empty space.
As I lean against the counter, glass in hand, I catch a flicker of movement outside. My brows knit together. Everyone should be asleep by now.
Setting the glass down, I move toward the back door, quietly opening it. The cool night air greets me, carrying the faint scent of salt and pine. I step onto the porch, my eyes adjusting to the darkness.
And then I see her.
Liz.
She’s sitting on the edge of the porch steps, her arms wrapped around her knees, staring out into the night. Her hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders, catching the silver light of the moon. She doesn’t notice me at first, too lost in her thoughts.
Something tugs at my chest, a mix of relief and something deeper—something I don’t want to name.
“Liz?” I say softly, stepping closer.
She jumps slightly, turning to face me. Her wide eyes glimmer in the low light, and for a moment, she looks vulnerable, almost startled, before recognition softens her expression.
“Nate,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry about that,” I say, though I’m not entirely sure I mean it. “What are you doing out here?”
She exhales, her shoulders relaxing. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought some fresh air might help.”
I nod, leaning against the porch railing. “Same here.”
For a moment, we’re both silent, the sound of crickets filling the space between us. Then I ask, “Mind if I join you?”
She hesitates, her lips parting slightly as if to protest, but then she nods. “Sure.”
I sit beside her, leaving enough space to be respectful but not distant. The wood is cool beneath me, and the night stretches out in front of us, vast and endless.
“What’s keeping you up?” I ask after a while, keeping my voice low.
She shrugs, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “A lot of things. Life. Work. Memories.” She glances at me, a faint smile playing on her lips. “You?”
“Same,” I say, though the weight behind my answer feels heavier. “Work mostly. And... other things.”
She arches a brow, her curiosity evident. “Other things?”
I hesitate, the words catching in my throat. But something about the way she looks at me—open, genuine, unguarded—makes it impossible to hold back.
“Becky,” I admit, my voice bitter around the name.
Liz’s expression softens, and she turns slightly toward me, resting her chin on her knee. “She still bothering you?”
“She’s persistent,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “Keeps suggesting we ‘talk’ or meet up, like that’s going to fix anything.”
Liz frowns. “And do you want to?”
“No,” I say firmly, the conviction surprising even me. “Not even a little. But... sometimes it feels like she knows exactly where to hit to make me doubt myself. Like maybe she’s right, and I’m not enough for Max on my own.”
“Nate,” Liz says, her voice sharper than I’ve ever heard it. “Don’t do that. Don’t let her make you question yourself. You’re an amazing dad. Max doesn’t need anyone else. He has you.”
Her words hit harder than they should, and I swallow against the lump forming in my throat. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is,” she insists, her eyes fierce. “Whatever Becky says, it’s her loss. She’s the one who gave up on you, not the other way around.”
I stare at her, the intensity of her conviction washing over me. Her belief in me feels like a lifeline, something I didn’t know I needed until now.
“Why do you care so much?” I ask, my voice barely audible.
She blinks, taken aback, and for a moment, I think she won’t answer. But then she smiles softly, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her expression.
“Because you deserve someone to care for you,” she says simply.
My chest tightens, and I can’t look away from her. The way her hair catches the moonlight, the way her lips curve in that slight, knowing smile—it’s too much. Too overwhelming.
I hesitate, my mind racing. But the truth is undeniable, even if I can’t say it out loud. Liz is threatening to tear down every wall I’ve built, and it scares the hell out of me.
Instead of answering, I meet her gaze again, the air between us charged and electric.
And then, before I can think better of it, I lean in.
Her breath hitches, her lips parting slightly as our faces draw closer. My heart pounds in my chest, a wild rhythm I can’t control.
When our lips meet, it’s soft at first, tentative, like testing the waters. But the emotion behind it is anything but tentative. It’s raw and real and everything I’ve been trying to suppress.
Liz freezes for a moment, and I think she might pull away. But then she leans into me, her hand brushing against my arm, and it’s like the world tilts on its axis.
The kiss is brief, but it feels like an eternity. When we pull apart, the air between us feels heavy, charged with something neither of us can name.
“I...” she starts, her voice shaky.
“Liz,” I say, cutting her off. My own voice is unsteady, my mind a whirlwind of emotions.
Then she stood, her eyes darting frantically around. I tried to stand but she shakes her head.
"I have to go. Goodnight,"
With that I watch as she rushes inside. Leaving me alone to stare into the night with my racing heart while still feeling the taste of her lips. Wanting more, yearning for more.
***
The sunlight streaming through my bedroom window feels intrusive, cutting through the remnants of sleep like a blade. I blink, staring up at the ceiling, my heart thundering in my chest as the memory of last night crashes over me.
The kiss.
Her lips were soft, warm, and everything I shouldn’t want. But I did. I still do. The thought twists my insides, sharp and aching, as if my chest is caught in a vice.
I run a hand over my face, groaning. What was I thinking? She’s Liz—Bryan’s sister. Bryan. The name lands like a punch to the gut, and guilt gnaws at the edges of my thoughts. But then there’s the truth, stark and undeniable: I have no regrets. None.
If anything, I want more.
The thought slams into me with the force of a tidal wave. More. I want her laughter, her touch, the way her eyes light up when she’s teasing me. I want everything. And that’s exactly why I need to stop this madness. Liz isn’t just anyone. She’s Bryan’s little sister, a woman far too good for someone like me.
I shove the covers off and get to my feet, shaking my head as if I could physically dislodge the memory of her lips against mine. But it’s there, branded into my brain, and no amount of denial is going to erase it.
The shower does little to clear my head. As the water cascades over me, I find myself weighing the pros and cons like it’s some kind of business decision.
Pro: Liz makes me feel alive in a way I haven’t felt in years.
Con: She’s too young. She deserves someone without baggage.
Pro: She fits into my life so effortlessly, it scares me.
Con: She’s Bryan’s sister.
The list goes on in my head. The cons outweigh the pros, but it doesn’t stop the part of me that aches for her, that wants to find her and kiss her again, consequences be damned.
When I step into the kitchen, the sound of laughter greets me, light and musical. It stops me in my tracks. Liz is sitting at the table with Max, who’s busy spreading an alarming amount of peanut butter onto a piece of toast. Sue hovers by the stove, flipping pancakes, her cheerful humming filling the room.
Liz is stunning in the morning light, her hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. She’s wearing a simple sweater and jeans, but she might as well be draped in silk for how beautiful she looks.
My chest tightens as I watch her laugh at something Max says, her nose scrunching up in that way that makes my heart lurch.
I force myself to step into the room, clearing my throat. “Morning.”
Sue looks up and smiles. “Morning, Nate. Coffee’s fresh.”
Liz glances at me briefly, her expression unreadable. “Good morning,” she says, but her eyes don’t meet mine.
The awkwardness is palpable, a thick, suffocating weight that settles over the room. I sit down at the table, the wooden chair scraping against the floor louder than I intended.
Liz doesn’t look at me again, but I can’t stop looking at her. The way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, the curve of her neck as she leans forward to help Max with his toast. Every little movement feels like a magnet, pulling me closer, tugging at something deep inside me I can’t name.
And then there’s the guilt. The gnawing feeling that I should have stopped the kiss last night. That I was in a better position to pull back, to keep things back to platonic.
But I didn’t.
And the thought that she might regret it, that she might wish it never happened, is like a knife twisting in my chest.
Breakfast is quiet, the tension a silent third guest at the table. Max chatters away, oblivious to the strained atmosphere between Liz and me. I respond when he speaks, but my focus keeps drifting back to her.
When it’s time to go, I’m almost relieved. Maybe the car ride will clear the air, though I doubt it.
The drive to Max’s school is awkward, the silence broken only by Max’s usual morning grumbles. He’s in no mood to be dropped off, protesting every step of the way.
“Can’t I stay with Liz today?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest as we pull into the drop-off lane.
Liz turns in her seat, giving him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, Max. You’ve got important things to learn today. But I’ll see you this afternoon, okay?”
Max pouts but nods, leaning over to give her a quick hug before climbing out of the car.
As soon as he’s gone, the silence in the car shifts. It’s heavier now, charged with the weight of unspoken words.
I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles white as I navigate the quiet streets. I can feel Liz’s presence beside me, her gaze fixed on the window. The tension is unbearable, and I know I have to address it.
“About last night,” I start, my voice low.
Liz turns her head slightly, her expression neutral. “What about it?”
“I’m sorry,” I say, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.
Her brow furrows, and she looks at me fully now, surprise flickering across her face. “Why are you sorry?”
The question catches me off guard, and I struggle to find the right answer. “Because that kiss shouldn’t have happened. It was a mistake.”
She blinks, her lips parting slightly as if the words sting. “Oh.”
Her reaction twists something in my chest, but I press on, needing to explain. “You’re Bryan’s sister, Liz. I shouldn’t have let it happen. I wasn’t thinking.”
Something shifts in her expression—something sharp and defensive. “Right,” she says, her tone clipped. “Because that’s the only reason it was a mistake.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, frowning.
“It means,” she says, her voice rising slightly, “that maybe we should just drop the discussion altogether.”
“Liz—”
“I’m serious, Nate,” she cuts me off, her gaze fierce. “Let it go.”
I bite back my response, the words burning on the tip of my tongue. The rest of the drive is silent, the tension thick enough to choke.
When we arrive at the office, Liz steps out of the car quickly, her movements stiff and purposeful. I follow, unsure of what to say or how to fix this.
As we step into the building, she stops abruptly, turning to face me. Her expression is calm now, almost too calm.
“Look,” she says, her tone even. “You don’t have to worry about last night. It won’t happen again.”
Her words hit like a punch to the gut.
“It was nothing,” she continues, her gaze steady but devoid of the warmth I’ve grown used to. “We’ll just move on and pretend it never happened.”
She doesn’t give me a chance to respond, turning on her heel and walking toward her desk.
I stand there, frozen, her words echoing in my head.
It was nothing.
But it wasn’t. Not to me.
And the thought of her forgetting the kiss, of pretending it never happened, is unbearable. Because all I want to do is kiss her again.