Chapter 34
chapter
thirty-four
NATE
Maren’s words are rushed, and her eyes widen, like she’s surprised she said them out loud.
Nausea sinks into every crevice of my body, turning it into ice. “What?” I manage as my brain scrambles to catch up to what she could possibly be talking about, but I come up empty.
For ten years, I asked myself over and over why Maren withdrew from me. Why she put up walls when I repeatedly tried to tear them down.
Why didn’t she move to California with me like we’d planned?
Why couldn’t I be the one for her?
I knew it wasn’t about the financial aid alone. Something in my gut made that very clear. But as an apprehensive teenager, it was easier to accept that than any other reason.
It was less painful to believe that than to admit there was anything wrong with our relationship.
Now that she’s about shed light on it all, I cringe. I’m anxious to crawl out of my own skin. Suddenly, knowing the exact reason has me on the cusp of breaking out in hives.
But I also can’t ignore this—we can’t ignore it.
Whatever she says, I can take it. I have to.
Maren licks her lips as if they’re suddenly dry, much like my throat. She shrinks into her sweater, wrapping it more tightly around her shoulders and waist like it’s a cloak of invisibility. “I don’t want to do this. We’re supposed to go on our date later, and we shouldn’t—”
“Maren, we can’t pretend like you didn’t just drop a bomb.” I cup her elbows. “Please tell me what you’re talking about.”
She licks her lips again and peers over my shoulder, her eyes glossing over with unshed tears.
“Maren, please,” I manage over the lump in my throat.
She finally peers up at me. “You came up with the idea to bolt out of this town. You got this bug in you for bigger, better, shinier, and you went on like California was the only place you could get it.”
My hands fall away from her like they’re too heavy. I recall the exact moment this “bug” bit me.
My father had gotten me a camera for Christmas, and with it, I’d gone around town snapping shots left and right. I’d won a few local contests. A professor at a school in Savannah had approached me and asked about my future plans, and she’d planted the idea in my head about photography as a career.
When I’d imagined my life that way, it had felt right. Up until then, nothing else had fired me up like that. The thought alone of a career in photography had breathed new life into me, and I had refused to let it go.
In hindsight, I probably couldn’t have let it go, even if I’d tried.
Except in my vision, Maren was there too, living her dreams of being a writer. We were taking on LA—and the world—together. The picture I had in my head had been so strong, I couldn’t unsee it.
I couldn’t unwant it.
But I didn’t believe it was a bad thing, because she and I were on the same page—or so I’d thought.
“The way you talked about moving to LA and becoming famous for your pictures—it lit a fire in you, and me too. Your excitement was so infectious, and I loved it so much for the both of us,” Maren continues, her fingers grazing her upper arm, and I ache to reach out to her again.
To touch her in some way—something to feel connected to her again.
“I got caught up in the fantasies. The dreams. The hopes. And then… I realized that it was your dream for your life. It wasn’t mine.
I had all I needed right here in Sapphire Creek, and when financial aid gave me hell, I didn’t fight back because I was… ”
“What?” I whisper carefully, unsure if I really want to hear the rest. Each word just twists a proverbial knife in my chest.
“I was relieved, Nate.” She swipes at her cheek, at a tear I hadn’t noticed skating down to her chin.
“I’m a small-town kind of girl. I always was, and I always will be.
I like everything about the slow pace and the quiet afternoons.
The comfort. It’s all part of the charm of this town, and I couldn’t give it up. ”
I hadn’t noticed any of her feelings back then. This is all news to me, and regret leaps through my stomach.
Everything we’d planned as teenagers. All that we’d shared and envisioned. Had it been a lie? Had I been so blinded by my singular focus on photography that I’d completely fucking missed something as big as this?
Maren’s shoulders slump. “I hid behind financial aid so that I wouldn’t have to tell you the truth.”
“I wish you would have,” I say, my voice hoarse. “We could’ve figured out a different option. Something for both of us. If I would’ve known…”
I swallow the rest of the sentence and bury it into the depths of my mind.
Her exhale is watery, and the smile she forces just delivers sharp doses of pain through me. “I didn’t want you to change your life for me. I couldn’t live with myself.”
My jaw tightens.
“I still should’ve told you, but I was young and scared. I would’ve never forgiven myself had I been the reason you gave up on your dreams.” Her hands flop to her sides. “And I couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing you.”
“You could never.” I finally give in and eliminate the distance between us. I slip my hand through hers. “I would’ve understood.”
“I don’t know if you would have.”
Her words, coupled with the haunted darkness in her eyes like a void, wrap around my heart as tight as a clenched fist.
“I always tried to give my best to everything—for you—and any time I fell short, I just spiraled. Felt like I could never do anything or be good enough for you.” She wiggles out of my hold and shifts away from me again as if it’s too hard for her to be in my presence.
Just thirty minutes ago, we were good. We were on solid ground.
We were finally going on a date.
I thought we’d worked through our shit. I thought we’d found a way out of the chokehold our history had us in, but as it turns out, we’re still trapped.
“Just like now. You want me to upgrade to a storefront like my coffee truck isn’t enough, but it is. It’s more than enough for me. I’m proud of it, Nate.” She blinks away more tears, and I can barely fucking breathe.
Her confessions echo and drift around me like ash settling into a pile of despair around my feet. I can’t seem to free myself. I don’t want to free myself.
I’m crushed under layers of guilt and self-loathing.
How is it possible that I never realized what I was doing? I can’t stand the thought of her feeling like she wasn’t perfect as she was—and is.
All I’ve ever wanted was Maren, exactly as she is.
“I’m so proud of you too. It kills me to think that hasn’t been clear.
” I clutch my chest, my palm glued over the lightning tattoo.
It practically singes my hand as I search for the words to explain.
“I really didn’t mean anything by my comment.
I just remembered the café, it made me think of you, and it felt like something worth mentioning.
It was not a slight toward your truck and everything you’ve accomplished, I swear. ”
Her eyes travel over me, and her lips part like she’s considering what I’ve said. Like I might have a damn leg to stand on.
“I’m not settling, if that’s what you think,” she finally says, and then her face pales. “Wait.” She steps to the side and puts even more distance between us. “Is that what you’re doing? Are you settling by being back here?” She waves her arms around.
“No.” I shake my head. “I like being here. I’m glad to be here. I don’t want to ever leave again. I can’t stand the thought of living anywhere else, and I especially can’t fucking stand the thought of losing you.”
“So, you’re staying in Sapphire Creek, then? I mean, what happens the next time you get a wild hair? What about Teagan? What about—” She cuts herself off with a thick swallow. “What about me?” she whispers.
My head spins with every question she shoots my way, the panic in her voice increasing with each passing second.
I break into a cold sweat as the answers to all the questions collide against one another in my mind.
I’m sorting through them as fast as I can, but my phone buzzes.
I itch to check it and make sure it’s not Teagan.
Sabrina is supposed to pick her up soon—could she be having difficulties in the school pick-up line?
Is it my mom or dad—maybe something happened while they were moving their stuff?
Maren inches away from me, her hesitation cutting me in half. Just moments ago, she couldn’t get close enough to me, and it was heaven.
Now, she feels like she’s oceans away—much like she has been for the last ten years—and I hate it. It’s my hell.
“Nate, this is my home.”
“It’s my home too.”
“You don’t get it.” She hunches her shoulders, shrinking into herself. “Sapphire Creek is my home, but it’s more than that. It’s part of me. I’m not going to leave, but I’m not so sure you wouldn’t leave—again. Is this place enough for you?”
My phone buzzes again, and my mind descends into a tailspin.
I stare at Maren, and she stares back.
I can’t be sure how long we stand like this until she brushes past me. “Come find me when you figure it out.”
She trudges toward her car, and I slump over to check my phone.
TEAGAN
Love you, Daddy.
We’re having pancakes tonight. YUM.
These make me want to smile—I love when my daughter’s thinking about me. I’m usually thinking about her too.
But my stomach still folds in on itself.
I’ve tried to show up for the people I love. Time and again, I’ve tried to prove to Maren that I’ve changed and that I’m in this for the long haul.
But I’ve gone about it all wrong. I haven’t shown her that I’m here to stay, in all the ways that matter to her.
It’s not Sabrina and our marriage that I should’ve been worried about when it comes to building a life with Maren.
It’s me.