The next morning dawned bright and cool, the scent of pine and damp earth lingering in the air. Nate stood in his kitchen, staring at the mug of black coffee in his hand. Despite himself, his thoughts kept circling back to Lia.
He didn't understand why she lingered in his mind. Maybe it was her unapologetic curiosity, or the way her energy seemed to seep into his otherwise quiet world. Or maybe it was the simple fact that she hadn't walked away when he'd given her every reason to.
A soft knock at the door jolted him from his thoughts.
Nate sighed, setting his mug down before walking to the door. As he opened it, there she was, holding a canvas under one arm and a tackle box that clearly doubled as an art kit in her other hand.
"Good morning, neighbor!" Lia chirped, breezing past him without waiting for an invitation. "I come bearing creativity."
Nate blinked at her as she set her things down on his porch. "You could've asked first."
"And risked you saying no?" She grinned. "Not a chance. Besides, you said I should try painting again."
He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "I didn't say I'd supervise."
"Oh, please." She began unpacking her kit, pulling out tubes of acrylic paint and a handful of brushes. "You're an artist. Don't tell me you're not even a little curious about what I'll create."
Nate sighed, but a small part of him was curious. "Fine. But don't expect a critique."
"Deal."
She set up her canvas on the porch railing and plopped down onto the steps, completely at ease. As she began mixing colors, Nate found himself drawn to the scene. Her movements were unrefined but earnest, her focus unwavering as she spread broad strokes of blue and green across the blank canvas.
"What are you painting?" he asked after a while, unable to resist.
Lia paused, glancing at him with a smile. "It's supposed to be the creek behind our houses. But don't judge—it's more... abstract."
Nate tilted his head, studying her work. The colors were vivid, almost chaotic, yet there was an underlying rhythm to them. "You're not bad," he admitted.
"Wow. High praise from the resident recluse," she teased, dabbing her brush into a bright orange. "What about you? Working on anything right now?"
He hesitated, then nodded. "A landscape. Autumn scene."
"Can I see it?"
Nate shifted uncomfortably. Sharing his art felt like exposing a part of himself he wasn't ready to share. But Lia's expectant gaze made it difficult to say no.
Without a word, he turned and gestured for her to follow. She trailed behind him into the house, her eyes lighting up as she stepped into his studio.
"Wow," she breathed, taking in the shelves of supplies, the scattered sketches, and the large easel in the center of the room.
Nate stood off to the side as she approached the painting. Her gaze softened as she studied it—the golden leaves, the rippling water, and the lone figure on the riverbank.
"Is that... me?" she asked, her voice quiet.
Nate felt his ears burn. "It's just a detail. It fit the scene."
Lia turned to him, her expression unreadable. For a moment, he thought she might laugh or tease him, but instead, she smiled—a genuine, heartfelt smile.
"It's beautiful," she said simply.
Something in Nate's chest loosened. He hadn't realized how much he'd wanted her approval until that moment.
"Thanks," he said softly.
Lia looked around the room, her fingers grazing the edge of a nearby sketchbook. "You've got a gift, Nate. Don't hide it away."
He shrugged, unsure how to respond. Sharing his work had always felt dangerous, like it gave people too much of a hold over him. But with Lia, it didn't feel as threatening.
She didn't press further, sensing his discomfort. Instead, she walked back toward the door. "Alright, I'll leave you to it. But one day, you'll have to let the world see more of this."
As she left, Nate found himself staring at the painting again. The figure on the riverbank seemed to take on new life, her presence a reminder that maybe, just maybe, letting someone in wasn't the worst thing he could do.