Page 102 of Before We Were

Part of me wants her to save me.

The rest of me knows I'm already in too deep.

I close my eyes against the night sky, letting the high carry me further from the person she once knew. It's better this way—Nora’s memory of me preserved in summer days and innocent laughter, not this hollow shell I'm becoming. Every hit, every high, every bad decision pulls me further from her orbit, and maybe that's exactly where I need to be.

Because this path I'm choosing?

It's a one-way trip to somewhere she can never follow.

CHAPTER31

FROSTED FLAKES AT 2AM

NORA

PRESENT DAY

It's2:03 AM and my thoughts are deafening. I slip out of bed, my bare feet silent against the wooden floors as I pad downstairs to the kitchen. The familiar path to the Frosted Flakes feels like muscle memory—a comfort I can't explain. I reach for a mug instead of a bowl, an old habit that will never be broken. The faint creak of stairs breaks through my reverie, and I turn to find Nate standing in the doorway, hair tousled and shirtless. Even exhausted, he looks like he stepped out of a Greek myth—all sharp angles and perfect shadows with a body I’m struggling to keep my eyes off of.

"Late-night snack?" His trademark smirk appears, the one that still makes my heart stumble over itself after all these years.

"Old habits die hard.” I shrug, grateful for the dim light hiding the heat in my cheeks. "Why are you up?"

"Couldn't sleep."

I don't push because I know the way secrets feel safer in the dark. I have my own demons I'm not ready to share—the nightmares where Evan's weight suffocates me, where Dad's final words echo endlessly.

Nate moves into the kitchen with fluid grace, retrieving a spoon before claiming my mug of cereal without asking.

"Still eating cereal out of a mug, huh? You know bowls exist, right?"

I roll my eyes, reclaiming my midnight snack. "Shut up. I like it this way. It's efficient."

"Efficient?" His laugh is low, intimate in the quiet kitchen. He leans against the counter, eyes lingering on me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. "You're still a little weirdo."

A small laugh escapes me. "It was Dad's idea, actually. We'd eat Frosted Flakes together in mugs like it was some covert operation. Mom never knew—it was our thing."

Something unreadable crosses Nate's face as he looks down, stirring milk with his stolen spoon. "Your dad was one of the best people I knew."

The words hang heavy between us, and I know we've stumbled into a moment we've been dancing around. I try to redirect.

"I'm sorry," I say softly, setting down the mug. "For how I acted the other day. After..." His name sticks in my throat like broken glass. "You were just trying to help, and I??—"

"Stop," he interrupts, voice gentler than I expect. "You don't have to apologize. If anyone should be apologizing for fucking things up, it's me."

Confusion knots in my chest. "For what?"

He exhales roughly, running a hand through his hair. "For not being there for you and Ol when I should have been. Your dad... he was more of a father to me than mine ever was. But I—" His voice catches, revealing a glimpse of the pain he's buried so deep.

"It's okay." I whisper.

We stand suspended in this moment, years of unspoken words filling the air between us. His eyes lock onto mine, and the kitchen shrinks until there's nothing but us. His fingers brush mine, sending sparks racing up my arm. The mug in my hands feels like an anchor keeping me from floating away.

"I'll never forgive myself for missing the funeral. And I don't expect you to forgive me for??—"

"I do,” I cut him off. "Forgive you. So how about this—a clean slate?” I manage, trying to steady my racing pulse. "I think it's time we both just move forward, with everything."

He closes the distance between us. His hand grazes my cheek as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, the simple gesture setting every nerve ending alight.

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