“That’s what my sister said—not as kind as that, but, you know. I’ll tell you, Mr. Colton, the best scenes are when people don’t know you’re shooting. You get gold when folks are just being themselves. That’s what pops on the screen. I mean, I feel it when I see it. And the people who subscribe to my channel love when I capture the real stuff that happens.”

“I get that,” Jimmy said. “But flip it around. What if someone took video of you every moment of the day and posted it online?”

“I wouldn’t have a problem with it.”

“Really?”

“Well, I mean, for most of the day. Because most of the day I’m just taking video of other people.” Nate thought a moment, then took another bite of pasta. “This is really good. The marinara sauce is to die for.”

Jimmy pulled up to the house and saw a young woman pacing in the driveway and along the sidewalk, a phone to her ear. He turned off his headlights. “Wonder what that’s about.”

“That’s my sister, Reese.” Nate gave a heavy sigh. “You know, one of the reasons I was . . .” He stopped and waved a hand. “Well, I should just go.”

“No, finish your thought,” Jimmy said.

Nate put his empty bowl on the floorboard, his plastic fork clattering. “One of the reasons I like hanging with your family is because it’s kind of different than mine. I mean, I love my mom and dad and I kind of like my sister, sometimes, you know? But your family, G and Paw Paw and Mrs. Colton . . . the way you guys talk and act and care for each other . . . My family cares but we don’t always show it. At least, not like you guys. When I’m at your house, it’s like I can feel it and taste it.”

“Like the marinara sauce,” Jimmy said.

“Exactly. So if I shoot too much, it’s because I’m seeing something that feels real to me.”

“That’s a kind thing to say, Nate. I’m glad you feel that way. And we’re always glad to have you.”

“Except when I get kicked out of the hospital room.” Nate waved a hand. “No, I get it. I kind of get carried away.”

“Your love of video and filming, that’s going to take you somewhere. Don’t give up on that. Just don’t record everything.”

Nate opened the door.

“And you can start by not recording her,” Jimmy said, pointing to Reese, who walked in the opposite direction along the sidewalk.

“Oh, that’s a sad story, Mr. Colton. Why do girls go for guys who hurt them? I don’t understand it. She’s either on the phone talking to him or talking with a friend about how bad he is. And then she keeps going back to him.”