Page 102 of The Story of Us
It was like a scene from one of Eloise’s favourite romances. A quaint picnic on the banks of the Wattle River, complete with a plaid blanket and a wicker basket filled with all her favourite foods. Nate had even brought along his little portable smokeless fire pit, and bright orange flames curled and shifted inside it.
Eloise stretched her hands out towards the warmth. It made her feel more alert, more aware of her surroundings.
When Nate offered her a thermos, she shook her head.
“If you’re cold, we can go back inside. I just thought some privacy would be good.”
“I’m okay.” She wasn’t. She hadn’t been okay for days now.
Still, Nate nudged one of the blankets that normally lived on the back of his couch towards her.
“I have some things for you, but first I wanted to explain a few things. Is that alright?” he asked.
She nodded, and Nate cleared his throat, his gaze shifting to the river in front of them. The water swirled around the exposed rocks lazily, no rush or hurry to its movements on the blue skied winter’s day.
“I have trouble talking about myself. Always have. It got worse when everyone else started having an opinion on everything I was doing. How I was playing. What I was doing right. Or wrong. Even when you’re doing your best to block it all out, little bits sneak through and chip away at your confidence, your sense of self. And then when something truly terrible happens and your world collapses, it’s hard to know how to rebuild your life.”
Alice—who used to be a reality TV star—had said the same thing to Eloise many times.
Nate’s hands flexed before he settled them on his knees, his gaze never leaving the river. “The easiest way to deal with it was to make myself small. That way no one would realise that I was trapped between who I thought I should be or who people wanted me to be. I even forgot to figure out who I wanted to be.”
Nate finally looked at Eloise, and she was so annoyed at herself for longing to reach forward, tuck the wayward strands behind his ear. Feel his skin underneath her fingertips again.
“We’ve talked about how important movement is before. It’s taken me a long time to realise that standing still is just as important. Every moment we’ve shared should’ve been a reminder of that because I never wanted them to end. Standing still with you is my favourite thing to do.”
Eloise waited. Her years as a social worker cautioning her to not get excited. To wait for the rest of the story.
“But there are things about me you don’t know. That I’ve kept from everyone because I was ashamed. I’ve let them dictate things they shouldn’t have.” Nate’s frown was tiny, and it didn’t reach his eyes, but it still broke her heart.
“I heard you at the hospital the other day. With your family. Talking about kids. Our kids.”
Okay …“But that was just a joke. Joanie has been talking about great-grandchildren since I was twelve.”
“I know you didn’t mean anything by it, especially because you didn’t know it would be triggering for me.” Nate paused, his throat moving as he swallowed and pressed his palms to his eyes. A shudder rolled through his body, and it took Eloise a second to realise he was blinking back tears.
“Take your time,” she whispered.
“I can’t have kids.”
Unable to not give him some comfort, Eloise placed her hand on top of his. His skin was familiar but cold, a sobering reminder of how different everything was between them right now.
A million thoughts bombarded her, but the pain on Nate’s face squashed them all. Here was this man—this beautifully generous soul who wouldn’t hurt a fly and had given away so much of himself because he wanted the best for everyone—thinking that this made him less of a person. A failure, even, possibly. And, oh, God. Inadvertently, this was thrown in his face regularly. All the jokes about being a stud, what it meant to be a real man.
And then he’d thought she wouldn’t want him because of it.
Clearly, they had to work on their communication because she hadn’t been upfront either. If she had, then Nate would’ve known from the start how she really felt about him.
There was no question in her mind—or heart—about what the right answer was. “Okay.”
“Okay?” His little laugh mixed with a sob.
“Nate,” she whispered and guided his hands away from his face. Eloise didn’t blink or look away. She saw him.Really saw him.He wasn’t Nate the professional athlete or Nate her brother’s best friend or even Nate her boyfriend.
He was Nate. Wholly his own person. Eloise’s mind flashed back to when he’d defended her in the bathroom to Ryan. He wasn’t a thing to have or claim. But, God, did she want to spend all her days with him. Everything made so much more sense. Why he hadn’t dated since he came home. Why he’d wanted to keep things between them casual. Why he’d run away.
“I wish you’d felt like you could tell me this earlier and I’d like to talk about it more whenever you’re ready, but I’m not going to get mad at you about something that isn’t your fault.”
Nate pulled a brown paper bag out of the picnic basket and handed it to her. “These are for you, too.”
