Things We Hide from the Light

Lucy Score has become synonymous with a particular brand of small-town romance — one rich in quirky characters, charming settings, and a palpable sense of community, and *Things We Hide from the Light* largely delivers on this established promise. From the outset, we are drawn into the lives of Nash Morgan, the stoic police chief grappling with the aftermath of a traumatic event, and Lina Caroll, his enigmatic new neighbor, whose arrival stirs the dormant waters of his carefully constructed solitude. The novel’s strength lies in its meticulous portrayal of these two individuals, slowly peeling back layers of their pasts to reveal the wounds that inform their present interactions. Score takes her time, allowing their individual struggles to unfold with a patient cadence, which lends a welcome depth to their inevitable connection.

The novel excels in its depiction of the fictional town of Knockemout, which transcends mere backdrop to become a character in its own right; it is a place where everyone knows everyone else’s business, yet also a sanctuary offering unwavering support. This duality is crucial to the narrative, providing both the pressures that force characters to confront their truths and the safety net that allows them to fall. Score’s prose, often witty and always accessible, navigates the complexities of grief, guilt, and burgeoning affection with a confident hand, ensuring that even the most emotionally charged scenes feel authentic rather than overwrought. The dialogue, in particular, sparkles with a natural cadence, reflecting the distinct personalities of its speakers.

A significant part of the novel’s appeal lies in the emotional journey of Nash Morgan, whose post-traumatic stress is handled with a commendable degree of sensitivity. Score avoids facile resolutions, allowing Nash to genuinely struggle with his recovery, making his eventual breakthroughs feel earned and resonant. Lina, while initially presented as a more enigmatic figure, reveals herself to be equally complex, harboring secrets that challenge her own capacity for connection. Their dynamic is built on a foundation of mutual observation and a gradual chipping away at defenses, rather than immediate, explosive chemistry, which grants their relationship a more believable and enduring quality.

However, a recurring pattern in Score’s work, which is also evident here, is a tendency toward plot contrivances that, while serving to move the narrative forward, can occasionally strain credulity. There are moments when the external conflicts, designed to test the protagonists, feel less organically woven into the fabric of the story and more like necessary obstacles to be overcome before the inevitable happy ending. While the emotional arc of Nash and Lina remains compelling, the broader narrative occasionally leans on familiar tropes, diminishing some of the genuine tension that could otherwise arise from their internal struggles. A greater reliance on character-driven conflict over external machinations might have elevated the novel further still.

Despite these minor structural echoes of previous works, *Things We Hide from the Light* remains a satisfying and emotionally rich reading experience. It is a testament to the idea that healing is not a linear process, and that love, when it arrives, often demands a painful confrontation with one’s own vulnerabilities. Score’s ability to create characters who feel like old friends, even in the midst of their profound personal battles, is a hallmark of her craft, and this novel reinforces her position as a master of contemporary romance with a heart for deeper emotional truths. It is a book that champions the messy, imperfect journey of finding light in the darkest corners of one’s past.