Page 83 of Fault Lines
“They’re upgrading,” he said dryly. “That’s why I’m here. I wanted to show you this. I thought you’d appreciate what’s down here.”
He pulled out a chair for me, and we sat together in the dim light, scrolling through headlines and scandal and forgotten stories. I lost myself in the flow of it, captivated by tragedies and triumphs, by a story about a boy who’d survived his family burning in their house, only to go on and commit horrors of his own decades later. The past felt vivid, heartbreakingly close.
I pointed out the patterns to Nate: “It’s obvious he did it, isn’t it? The first fire?”
Nate nodded. “No doubt.”
Time slipped away. My stomach finally growled, reminding us of the hour.
Nate checked his phone. “It’s almost one. Want to get lunch before you have to head home?”
“Already?” I blinked, surprised at how fast it had gone. “Sure.”
He shot me a satisfied look. “See, I knew you’d like this. We’re compatible in more ways than you think.”
I smiled quietly, touched by how thoughtful he was, and helped him put the chairs back before we headed out into the sun.
We ended up at a tiny café just down the street, nearly empty and almost too quiet. A cheerful waitress took our order, radiating an energy I envied. When our food came, Nate immediately stole a fry from my plate with a boyish shrug.
“Seriously?” I shot him a look.
He just grinned. “Your burger looks way better than my Salisbury steak. I have regrets.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Don’t blame me for your poor choices,” I retorted, sticking out my tongue.
We ate quietly, the air between us easy until Nate broke the silence.
“Are you going to confront him? About what you saw?”
I went still, appetite fading. I knew I needed to decide, and soon. “I should, right? But… what would be the point? We’d argue, he’d insist I was being paranoid, and it wouldn’t actually change anything. He’s going to keep doing what he wants, regardless.”
“I wouldn’t let him,” Nate said sharply. “You set boundaries; he crossed them. That’s supposed to be the end of the arrangement.” He paused, jaw tight. “Only… I don’t want to say that, since it would mean you’d stop seeing me.”
I took a long sip of my drink, thinking. “We’re still friends, no matter what happens. That was never just about the arrangement.” I hesitated, pushing ketchup around my plate. “I’m not sure confronting him would help. If he’s already too far in with her, I’m not sure I want to push him out the door myself.”
Nate’s face was unreadable for a long moment. “Do you really think it would be so bad, if he left?”
I glanced out the window, watching people pass by, lost in their own lives. Their ease stung a little, the ordinariness of their Sunday. Would I ever feel like that again?
“It’s never occurred to me, life without him,” I admitted. “I met Cam in college, and ever since then, it’s always been us.Even when I knew things wouldn’t go the way we dreamed, I thought there would still be a version of forever for us. I’m not ready to let that go. I can’t even picture it.”
Nate pushed his plate aside, the gesture final. “I just hope he wakes up before he breaks you completely.”
I didn’t answer, the silence heavy between us as we finished our food. And so we sat there, two people on the edge of something ending, neither quite brave enough to say it out loud.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I made it home just minutes before Cam, walking into a quiet house where nothing vibrated with guilt or anticipation. If he’d arrived before me, the questions would’ve started and I wasn’t ready to talk about where I’d been. Especially when I hadn’t technically done anything wrong, but Cam would sure have an opinion about me spending the night with Nate. Which was funny, considering what I knew, but he didn’t realize I was aware of his own rule-breaking.
And now I had a new problem: do I call him out or just act like everything’s fine? Would it even matter? He’d broken my trust—the one thing I thought he’d never do—and nothing he said would make me believe him the same way again.
The front door opened, and there was Cam with his black suitcase, his face bright and open. “Hey baby,” he said, all smiles, “I missed you so much.”
My heart twisted. He missed me? That’s what he wanted me to believe?
He kissed me, and I let myself fall for a second. I couldn’t help it. Cam was home; Cam had always been home for me. I ached for him even though I knew deep down where he’d been and who he was with. My love for him pounded through me, heavy and relentless. Whatever mistakes he made, he was still the man I’d built my life around.
Maybe a stronger woman would have walked away a long time ago. Maybe I was just weak, or maybe I was lovesick, or addicted to the version of us that didn’t hurt this way. All I knew was that I was stuck between two equally terrifying paths: leaving to save myself, or staying to hold onto the man I fell for years ago.
