“Dad,” he said.
I stiffened before I could help it. “What?”
He took a breath like he was bracing himself. “You’re not okay.”
I stared at him, dumb for a second. “I’m fine.”
Nate’s eyes narrowed, and suddenly I could see Anna in him—not the look, but the refusal. Thedon’t-lie-to-methat could peel the truth right off your bones.
“You’re not,” he said, softer. “You’re alone in that house. You’re renovating like you’re trying to tear grief out of the walls. You’re—” He swallowed. “You’re drinking too much.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “Nate?—”
“I’m not trying to shame you.” His voice cracked, just a little. “I just… I keep getting this new life handed to me. Evan, the pack, Gideon’s weird creek therapy, all of it. And you’re stuck in the same place, carrying the same weight, and it feels wrong.”
My mouth went dry. “I’m not stuck.”
“You are.” Nate stepped closer, not challenging, just… there. Present. “And I hate it.”
I couldn’t look at him. I stared at the pads like they were going to save me.
Nate’s voice dropped. “Daniel’s been checking on you.”
My head snapped up. “What?”
“Evan told me.”
I tried to joke my way out. “Daniel has better things to do than babysit me.”
Nate didn’t smile. “You say that like you don’t think you’re worth the time.”
I opened my mouth, then shut it.
“Mom would want you to let people in,” Nate said, and his voice went gentler, like he was handling something fragile. “I want you to let people in.”
I swallowed. The gym suddenly felt too bright, too empty. “Daniel offered me a job,” I admitted.
Nate’s face changed instantly. Hope, bright and almost startled. “What?”
“At the mill.” My throat tightened around the words. “Bookkeeping. Financial stuff.”
Nate grinned like I’d handed him a win. “Dad, that’s—yes. That’syes.”
“I haven’t said yes.”
His smile faltered. “Why not?”
Because if I said yes, I’d have to show up. I’d have to exist again. I’d have to stop hiding in a house full of memories and pretend I didn’t feel like a man carved out and left hollow.
I forced air into my lungs. “Because it’s complicated.”
Nate stepped closer and put a hand on my shoulder. The grip was warm. Solid. Stronger than it had any right to be.
“Everything’s complicated now,” he said quietly. “That doesn’t mean you get to disappear.”
I stared at him, at the stubborn love in his eyes, at the gold that flickered when he felt too much. My kid. My brave, terrified kid, becoming something new and still finding a way to hold onto what mattered.
“Go,” Nate said. “Talk to him. Look at the books. Give yourself permission to try.”
