Chapter 8 #4
Everyone left eventually. That’s what people did. They realized he held nothing inside, stayed stuck, a fraud coasting on borrowed genius, and they went.
But she remained.
Curled on the couch, shoes off, legs tucked under her. His first book open in her lap—the hardcover he kept on the shelf. The late-afternoon light caught the auburn in her hair, turned her profile soft and golden.
She smiled at something on the page, and his heart thumped.
She smiled at his words. Words he’d written with Emma, years ago, when writing had still come easily. She read them like they mattered. Like they held worth.
Huck lifted his head from the dog bed, tail thumping. Finn sprawled across Livvie’s feet, completely claimed.
She looked up. “Hey.” Her smile widened, warm and open, freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks. “How’s it going? Did you find the thread again?”
The question hung in the air.
He looked at her face. The hope in it. The belief. She’d stayed here all day, cleaning his house, making him coffee, giving him space to work. She’d taken him on that walk this morning and listened to him ramble until the scene formed.
Then ran with him home, to capture it.
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.
He wouldn’t run.
He knew that even as he thought about it.
He wouldn’t pack the truck and disappear, because the house stood here, and Emma’s notebooks sat here, and the seven pages—pathetic as they looked—existed here.
Because running wouldn’t solve anything.
Because tomorrow he’d still be stuck, still be empty, still be the fraud he’d always been.
And because Livvie would come back.
And oh, how he wanted her to come back.
He looked at the dogs. They looked back at him.
“I’m in trouble,” he said.
Huck sighed heavily, like this was nothing new.
Finn had already returned to the couch, making himself comfortable in the warm spot Livvie had left behind.
The light faded. The house grew dark.
And Nate just stood in the darkness.