Page 79 of Fault Lines
“When he killed her—it changed everything.”
The word struck me, even though I’d suspected it from things Nate had let slip before. I stared at him, seeing not just the man in front of me but the boy he’d once been.
“I was fifteen when we buried her. Not long after, I sat in court next to a judge and told them everything. Every time I buried my head in a pillow so I wouldn’t hear her screams, every time I tried to help and got slammed against a wall, every time she begged me not to get involved while he… while he raped her right there in the middle of the house. I remember his eyes when they took him away. Pure hatred. I sent him to prison and never felt one ounce of regret.” He hesitated, then added, “What kind of son does that and never feels sorry?”
My grip around his hand tightened. “The kind who saw what his father really was. You were just protecting your mother. Serving her justice. There’s nothing to regret, not a single thing. Men like him belong behind bars.”
Nate finished his drink and looked away, the words gathering in his throat like storm clouds. “After that, it wasfoster home to foster home. Nobody wanted to keep me—I lashed out too much. I refused to live with Pops, even though he wanted me. I just couldn’t look him in the eyes. I hated myself for not saving her. He was still alive, she was dust, and I was just… angry. I fell into drugs. Bad friends. Stupid decisions.”
I shook my head softly. “You were hurting. You did what you had to do to survive.”
“That’s just it. Grief turns people inside out. Makes them do things they never thought they’d do. God knows I made mistakes I’ll never forget. But if I didn’t do something, anything, I felt like I’d blow apart.”
I downed the rest of my vodka and sat with the silence.
“Cam wanted a family so badly,” I said at last. “I understand why losing that future hurt him. He didn’t just want kids; he wanted our kids. But now that’s impossible. Sometimes I think he must regret marrying me at all. Or maybe even meeting me.” The thought made another tear sting my cheek.
“If that’s really how he feels, then he’s a fool. You are enough, Livi. With or without kids, you are enough.”
“Thank you.” My voice was smaller than I intended. “And thank you for letting me stay tonight. Just…being here. It really does help.”
He offered a gentle smile, standing up to clear our glasses.
“You can shower in the master,” he said. “Clean towel’s already on the rack, and there’s a new toothbrush in the top drawer.”
I made my way to the bathroom, twisting the hot water on high and letting the steam fog up the mirror. Stripping off my clothes, I stepped into the shower and let the scalding water crash over my skin. I welcomed the sting—the pain was something I could control, unlike the rest of my life.
Nate’s story played over in my mind, each detail echoing what Rachel must have seen at the hotel. I tried to shut it down, but the questions wouldn’t stop spiraling.
Why did Cam do this to me? Why break the one agreement we still had left? Did he even care about my pain, or was it all about him now? Was he in love with Lacey? Had they been together this whole time? How many lies had I swallowed?
I lathered with Nate’s woodsy soap—not unpleasant, even if it was a little more masculine than I was used to—and tried to focus on something, anything, besides the vision of Cam’s fingers intertwined with hers. How they walked together toward their room. The hotel manager had even thought she was his wife. Did they register as Mr. and Mrs. James? Would he leave me? Would she wear my name someday?
I didn’t even realize I’d sat down in the tub until the water turned cold around me, needling my skin, pricking me back toward the surface.
Three sharp knocks rattled the bathroom door.
“Livi? Are you alright?” Nate’s voice was low and steady, but I could hear the worry.
I cleared my throat. “Coming out.”
I wrung out my hair, wrapped myself in a towel, and brushed my teeth. The spearmint taste bloomed in my mouth—a favorite of mine, but never Cam’s. I was always compromising, wasn’t I?
The pajamas Nate had given me were massive, but after rolling the waistband a few times and tugging the Lord of the Rings shirt over my head, I found the comfort oddly soothing. I laughed a little at the ring graphic on the front. Only Nate, I thought. He was such a nerd, and I honestly loved that about him.
The door clicked open and Nate appeared just outside, hovering as if he’d been waiting there the whole time.
“I was getting a little concerned,” he admitted.
“I’m not going to do anything drastic,” I promised, passing by him to find my purse. “Just brushing out my hair.”
He watched me, jaw set. “Where’s your guest room?” I asked, fingers tangled in my damp hair.
He looked sheepish. “Actually, I don’t have one. I converted the space—I never really needed it.”
“Oh.” I’d been picturing a retreat, a safe little corner. “Well, the couch is fine. It’s super comfortable—I remember.”
“No way, Livi. You’ll sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch.”
