Page 121 of Fault Lines
“You sure have been spending a lot of time with my grandson,” Mr. Porter remarked, breathing hard as he set down a heavy box with a dramatic thud.
“Mr. Porter, you should have let me do that,” I said, already sliding over to take his place and slice open the carton of books. “And yes, I guess I have. He’s been very good to me.”
“Nathaniel has really come a long way,” Mr. Porter continued, shaking out his hands before shuffling a muchsmaller box closer and tugging at the tape. “Therapy did him a world of good.”
The word snagged my attention like a hook. “Therapy?”
He cut his eyes at me, lips pursing, and I could see the moment he realized he’d maybe gone too far.
“I shouldn’t spill his business,” he said, lowering his voice so only I could hear, “but I trust you to keep it private. You won’t repeat anything I say, right?”
“Of course.”
He nodded, satisfied, and handed another stack of books over for me to shelve. “I know you know a little about his past.”
I listened closely, lining up the hardcovers one after another.
“I do,” I said. “Well, a little. That his father used to hurt his mother, and it ended with her death. That he’s in prison for it now.”
“That’s about right,” Mr. Porter said, pausing to catch his breath. “But what you probably don’t know is how much all that scarred my grandson. It did a real number on him.”
My heart ached just hearing it, and I let myself picture the younger version of Nate, haunted and hurting.
“He carried so much guilt.” Mr. Porter sounded tired, and maybe a little sad. “He blamed himself for not protecting my daughter. It just ate him up. He started numbing himself as a teenager, and it only got worse as he got older.”
“How do you mean?” I asked, already knowing, but still needing to hear it spelled out.
“He got in with the wrong people. Started drinking, dabbling in drugs. The drinking was the real problem, though. He drank like it was the only thing keeping him standing. It’s why he works from home.”
I stared at him, hungry for more pieces to the puzzle.
“He’s brilliant,” Mr. Porter went on. “They needed him at his job, but he was either drunk, hungover, or just didn’t show up.It finally exploded when he got into a fight at the office and was fired—they had no choice.”
“So he can’t go back to an office?” I asked.
He shook his head, passing another handful of books into my arms. “No. It’s better that way, especially after what happened.”
Mr. Porter closed his mouth, lips pressing together. “This is really not for me to say.”
I raised my eyebrows without meaning to, and he let out a rough chuckle.
“I suppose none of this was, really,” he said, “but, Olivia, I like you. I respect you, and since you came to work here you’ve felt more like family than staff. I’m telling you this because you’ve gotten close to my grandson, and I just… want you to be careful.”
“I am,” I assured him. “I want to take things slowly, but it seems like we’re speeding up anyway.”
“And that’s all fine,” Mr. Porter agreed. “Just know Nate’s got shadows, and even though he’s doing great, it might not always stay that way. He can get triggered. Therapy helped, especially after his last relationship, but it’s always possible that he’ll slip back.”
“With the drinking?” I asked. “I mean, Nate’s had a glass of wine with me, but I’ve never seen him act drunk.”
“I wouldn’t label him an outright alcoholic,” Mr. Porter admitted, easing into a chair. He looked pale and worn out under the overhead lights, his face more lined and weary than ever.
“But he got his father’s temper, for better or worse. The fights started young, and the alcohol just brought it roaring out. He can stop drinking if he wants, but when he does drink, that’s when the trouble comes. The therapy made all the difference, honestly. He’s never seemed better than he does now, especiallyafter meeting you. I just want you to promise me you’ll be careful. If anything ever feels wrong or unsafe, don’t think twice. Just go. Get out, wherever you need to go—to a neighbor or friend. Go home to your own husband if you have to. Or come here. Come to me. Just don’t give him a second chance if you feel threatened, Livi.”
“Nate’s been nothing but kind to me,” I said quietly.
“As he should be. And I want it to stay that way.” Mr. Porter hesitated, then added, “He means the world to me. He’s all I have left of my daughter. But I know his faults, and I don’t want you getting caught in the middle if things go bad.”
I crossed the room and hugged him without thinking. He seemed so fragile in my arms, smaller than he’d looked from a distance.
