Page 86 of Fault Lines
And for a moment, with the water crashing down and his arms pinning me in place, I almost believed in us again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The days that followed merged together, a soft-edged haze where nothing seemed certain except the ache of what I now knew. I kept catching myself, half poised to bring it up to Cam—the lies, the secrets, all of it—and then just as quickly I’d retreat, desperate to forget, to lose myself in whatever scraps of peace I could find.
Cam was attentive when he was home, but he was barely home at all that week. Late nights at work, he said. I wanted to believe him, cling to the image of the man I’d loved for so long. But the certainty was gone. Now that I had seen the crack in the foundation, all of his darkness was seeping up, plain and strange as black veins threading their way to the surface of his skin. My love for him was still there, solid, but dulled, almost ghostly—a relic of another time, another version of him. It felt more like I was in love with a photograph: the old Cam, the dreams of a future we might never get back to.
I tried to lose myself in the routine of the bookshop, where Nate was a constant, gentle presence. At work, he treated me the same as always, but I noticed every small touch—a hand at my lower back, his palm lingering at my elbow, the way his fingertips tucked stray hair behind my ears. Maybe I should have minded; instead, every gesture felt like balm.
It was a Thursday morning, unusually quiet, when Nate breezed in as I was wrestling with the overstocked books in the back.
“Morning!” he called, all bright cheer. “Sorry I’m late, had to catch up on some work for the library.”
I stacked books into loose towers, laughing. “Can you even be late if you don’t work here?”
He grinned, a flash of dimple. “Where’s Pops?”
“He called in sick. Not feeling so great again.”
Nate’s laughter softened into a concerned grunt. “Did he get his test results yet?”
I shook my head, worry pulling at my mouth. “He hasn’t told me if he did. I hate this—I keep thinking maybe it’s something serious.”
Nate nodded, eyes shadowed. “It’s not just the usual getting older stuff. He’s been off for a while.”
I thought of Mr. Porter’s easy smile, his warmth. The way he made everyone feel welcome. The shop wasn’t the same without him, and I missed him more than I expected.
And then the moment shifted, lighter as Nate said, “So, it’s Thursday.”
I chuckled, “So it is.”
“Cam going out tonight?”
I shrugged, breaking down a cardboard box. “Supposedly. He hasn’t said otherwise, not that he’s been around much lately.”
Nate hesitated, then: “So… you coming over tonight? We could, you know, Netflix and chill?”
A startled laugh burst from me. “You’re terrible at being subtle, you know that?”
His grin just got wider, his dimple deepening. “Should I be less subtle? I’ve been looking forward to this all week. Ever sinceyou stayed over and let me hold you through the night—I’ve been dying for more.”
I ducked my head, suddenly needing coffee. “You know I can’t spend the night.”
He followed me as I filled the brew basket, voice gentle. “I know. But you could stay, for a little while. After.”
I measured out grounds with hands that shook, just a little. “Nate, I…” The words tangled up in my throat.
He caught my cheek with his knuckles, warm and careful, tipping my face up to his.
“Tell me, Livi,” he murmured. “Are you having second thoughts? Because it’s okay if you are.”
I looked at him, so close it made everything else fall away. “I’ve never been with anyone but Cam. It’s not—I want this, I do, but it feels new, and I’m scared. I already feel close to you, but it’s still scary.”
His smile was soft, melting the nerves right out of me. “We don’t have to rush. If you’re only comfortable cuddling, I’ll take it. This goes exactly at your pace. I told you, I’m patient.” He laughed, a little self-mocking. “I mean, I’m dying here, but you’re worth it.”
Some of the tension inside me unfurled. “You’re the best, Nate. You really are.”
∞∞∞
