Page 128 of Before We Were

"Nate?" Nick's voice cuts through the fog like a lighthouse beam. "Hey, stay with me, yeah?"

"I'm good. I'm—" The lie dies in my throat. Nothing about this situation even approaches good.

"I'm taking you to the hospital." The determination in his voice jolts me back to full awareness.

"No!" Panic surges through me, temporarily drowning out the pain. "No hospitals. Please."

Nick studies me, concern etching deep lines around his eyes. For a moment, I think he'll ignore my plea, but then he releases a heavy sigh.

"Fine. But you're gonna have to let me at least fix the gash on your head."

I manage a weak nod as I sink deeper into the couch, consciousness wavering like a candle flame in the wind.

"I need you to stay awake, especially if you're carrying a concussion." Nick hands me a bundle of clean clothes and guides me toward the bathroom. "Get cleaned up. I'll get some painkillers."

The bathroom light is merciless, highlighting every cut and bruise in stark detail. Water stings as it hits my face, washing away blood and grime in pink rivulets. When I peel off my shirt, the mirror reveals more than just tonight's damage—it shows a roadmap of old scars, faded silver lines that tell stories I've spent years trying to forget.

Nick's eyes lock onto those scars when I return to the living room, but his expression remains carefully neutral.

"Where'd you get those?" His voice is soft, almost cautious.

"Football. Fights I got into at high school." The lie tastes stale, practiced.

He hands me pills and water without comment, but his silence speaks volumes. We both know I'm full of shit, but he doesn't push. Instead, he settles into the chair across from me, his presence oddly comforting.

"Nate," he says finally. "How did you end up like this tonight?"

I swallow the pills mechanically, years of practice making the action smooth despite my trembling hands. The question hangs in the air like smoke, and I find myself staring at the floor, unable to meet his gaze. The weight in my chest feels heavier than any physical pain.

"I got mixed up with the wrong people a while back," I admit, each word scraping against my throat. "I thought I could handle it. Thought I could find a way out. I was just… trying to fix things, trying to stop letting everyone down."

Nick leans back, something raw and understanding in his expression. "You're not the first person to end up in a mess like that. I've been there. I know what it's like to want to fix things but feel like you're in too deep."

The weariness in his voice makes me look up, surprising me with its honesty.

"When I was your age," he continues, "I got caught up in my own shit too. Thought I could save my brother from the mess he got himself into with drugs and bad people. But I couldn't. He OD'd, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it."

The clock on the wall ticks steadily, marking the weight of his words. The pain behind them feels tangible, like another presence in the room.

"And after he died…" Nick swallows hard, his gaze distant. "I drank myself stupid. I didn't care what happened to me. I'd lost my brother, the only person who hadn't abandoned me, and it felt like I'd lost everything." His voice cracks, revealing the wound that's never fully healed. "He was my kid brother who made a couple of bad decisions with the wrong people, and the price he paid for it was his life."

The silence that follows feels sacred, heavy with shared understanding. I recognize the guilt in his eyes—it's the same one I see in the mirror every morning.

"I haven't touched a drink since the night I drove home drunk," Nick continues softly. "I almost killed a mother and her daughter coming home from the movies." His head drops, shoulders heavy with the memory. "Sometimes I think that I haven't allowed myself to fully move on either. Haven't let anyone close enough because I didn't think I deserved it after that."

His words hit too close to home—echoing my own reasons for keeping Nora at arm's length, for believing I don't deserve her light in my darkness.

"I'm sorry," I murmur, though the words feel inadequate.

"For what?"

"Calling you and showing up like this. I understand if??—"

Nick shakes his head, a sad smile playing at his lips. "I'm glad you called and showed up here. Don't apologize."

The silence that follows feels different, lighter somehow, like we've both set down weights we've been carrying too long.

"I do wish you'd let me take you to the hospital though. Just to be safe that there aren't any serious injuries."

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