Page 118 of Before We Were

Something about his gesture makes me want to write, to pour everything onto the page.

Taking a deep breath, I begin.

Stories have a beginning that defines them and an end that is inevitable.

But in between the beginning and the end, that's up to us to determine.

And sometimes we just have to trust that the universe will surprise us.

Usually when we least expect it.

Because if we expect the unexpected, that's usually where we'll find the magic.

CHAPTER35

RIPPLES OF THE PAST

NATE

"You've knownher your whole life. Why do you look like you're walking to your own funeral?"

Nick side-eyes me as I pack up to leave.

I let out a breathy laugh, raking a hand through my hair. "Is it that obvious I'm shitting bricks?"

"Pretty much." He smirks, crossing his arms. "What's the deal? Why are you so nervous?"

I pause, rubbing the back of my neck as tension settles between my shoulder blades.

"It's complicated between Nora and me. There's history there and—" The words feel heavy in my throat, like they've been sitting there for years. Because they have.

"I fucked up with her last year. I wasn't there for her when her dad died, and now every time I look at her, all I feel is guilt."

Nick narrows his eyes. "Is that all you feel when you look at her?"

The question hangs in the air. Lying isn't an option, and even if I tried, Nick would see through my bullshit. We’ve spent a few long days together, half them hammering nails into wood, yet somehow he's become the first person in a long time who I can trust. Who doesn't see me as some lost cause.

"How do you know she hasn't forgiven you?"

I look down, kicking at the floor like a goddamn teenager.

Because I haven't forgiven myself.

"She shouldn't forgive me. But now it's like there's this permanent wall between us, and no matter what I do, I can't break it down."

Nick shrugs, tossing a rag over his shoulder.

"Maybe you don't need to break it down. Maybe you just need to open a door. And maybe, the key to that door is forgiving yourself first."

I give him a dry look. "What self-help book is that from?"

He grins. "Actually, it was a fortune cookie."

I laugh despite myself. As much as I try to act like it's not a big deal, it is. It's not just missing the funeral. It's everything—the way I've let my own shit stop me from being and doing anything in life. She deserves more than what I can give her emotionally. I can't give her the fairytales she dreams about and writes about.

"Before you go," Nick heads towards the back and returns with a box. "Taste test these on your date and give me some feedback."

"It's not a date."

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