Page 131 of Captivated
Nate’s stomach clenched.
“I expected you to talk about it, but when you didn’t go near the subject, I left you alone. But Iama little confused. You sounded so positive on the phone while you were there. So what happened between that last call and arriving back home?”
Nate’s scalp prickled. “Nothing.”
“Nothingis how much information you’ve shared about your time there.” Dad pointed to the painting. “Tell me about this.”
He kept a straight face. “It’s called a lake.”
Dad let out a wry chuckle. “Okay, now you’ve really got me curious. What is it about this place that you don’t want to talk about?”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“Then tell me something else about your stay. What did you do when you weren’t riding or painting?”
It was Nate’s turn to chuckle. “I mucked out stalls in the stable.”
Dad blinked. “And? How was that?”
“You know, I enjoyed it. Sure, it was hard work, but at the same time, it felt really good.” He smiled. “I’ve never done anything so strenuous in my life, but I’d do it again in aheartbeat.” Nate wanted to say it was gross, but that wasn’t entirely true.
Well, itwasgross, but unexpectedly cathartic.
“Okay, that sounds positive.” Dad pulled a stool toward him and sat. “Don’t stop there. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Nate realized there was only one way out of this situation.
He had to tell the truth.
Nate walked over to the window and looked down into the street below.
“Itwasa positive experience. But being home feels like a backward step. Painting. Therapy. Nothing’s changed.”
“Sounds to me as ifsomething’s changed.”
Nate stared at the sky, nowhere as vast as the canopy he’d left in Montana.
“I took your advice. I went to see Sol. And that… that helped so much. He made me see how far I’d come, and what had brought me to that point.”
“That’s wonderful.” He paused. “What is it you’re not telling me?”
Nate gave a hard swallow. “I miss Zeeb,” he said in a low voice.
“That’s understandable. You spent two weeks in each other’s pockets. Of course you—” Behind him, Dad’s breathing caught. “Oh. I see.”
Nate turned his head to find Dad staring at him, a steady gaze that felt comforting, not invasive, his features soft.
“You do, don’t you?”
Dad’s eyes were warm. “I can see why you’d like him. Zeeb’s a character, but he’s got a good heart under that tough exterior.”
Nate managed a chuckle. “He’s not so tough.”
Dad arched his eyebrows. “It’s more than merely liking him, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Maybe.” Nate sighed. “I don’t know. I had to leave when things were just getting…”
“Interesting?”
