Page 104 of Before We Were

Silence settles between us like morning mist.

"That's one of the things I've always admired about you."

"One of the things?" I raise an eyebrow, teasing. "How many things are there?"

Jake smirks, glancing over. "How much time do we have?"

The lightness eases the constant pressure in my chest, and I shake my head, smiling.

“My favorite thing though,” his voice softens. “Is the good you see in things—people, moments. You've always been that way."

“How do you mean?”

"Significant." The word carries weight. "You always find beauty everywhere. You notice things other people miss." His eyes meet mine beneath dark lashes, intensity crackling between us.

Over the years, I've collected my own list of Jake-observations: the way he fidgets when nervous, his fingers tracing absent patterns on his paddle; the sadness that lurks behind his easy smile, even when he tries to hide it.

I know Jake.

I see him, truly see him, and I notice all those things.

"I wish I could see myself the way you do," I laugh, more to myself than him.

Jake's expression softens, a smile tugging at his lips. "One day you will."

We drift in comfortable silence, the sun climbing higher, the world stirring around us. But here on the water, we exist in our own bubble of time.

"Ready to head back in?" He breaks the spell after some time.

"Sure." I carefully stand, finding my balance. "Race you?"

His eyes flash with that familiar competitive spark. "You read my mind."

Before he can steady himself, I shove my paddle against his board, sending him splashing into the lake. When his dark blonde head surfaces, I know I'm in trouble.

"Ohh, you play dirty, Lenora." He lunges for my board, tipping me into the frigid water.

The cold shock makes every cell feel alive. Jake's watching me with those bright eyes and that infectious smile. "What am I going to do with you, huh?"

"Race me," I challenge, already swimming for shore.

His laugh—sweet as honey—follows me through the water.

Jake and I burst into the house like kids, trailing water and laughter. The sound bounces off the walls, lifting some of the weight I've been carrying. My clothes cling to me, but I'm too invigorated to care. The sunrise paddle session was exactly what I needed—a moment of pure escape. Mom spots us from the kitchen, eyeing the puddles we're creating.

"You two better dry off before you soak my freshly mopped floors." She points to the towels by the back door.

Jake grabs one, tossing it over his shoulder with a grin. "Yes, ma'am."

"Nora," she says, wiping her hands. "Your phone's been going off. I think Camilla texted you about eighty times."

"Shit!" I smack my forehead. "I totally forgot I'm meeting her and Mia soon."

“I’ll give you a lift.” Jake offers.

When Jake drops me off I sit in my usual spot and pull out my notebook. But the words won't come. My mind is a tangle of grief, fear, and the humiliation Evan left branded on my soul. No matter how hard I push against this weight, it won't budge.

The door chimes, and I look up reflexively.

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