Page 134 of Before We Were

The crisp morning air bites at my exposed skin as I weave through empty streets, thoughts racing faster than my feet can carry me. Last night's revelations tangle with Scott's unsettling offer to Jake, I feel complete and utter guilt gnawing at me for keeping Nate in the dark. While the guilt eats away my gut, my mind spins with unanswered questions:

Where did Nate go after Farrah's frantic texts?

Why did he come home looking like he'd just been to war?

Why would Jake be willing to throw away his hard-earned scholarship for Scott's hollow promises?

And why doesn't Nate finally tell him the truth about his dad?

My chest tightens with fierce protectiveness, especially for Nate. I saw it clearly last night—the bone-deep sadness, the raw hunger to be enough for someone. That's what breaks my heart the most: he believes he's unworthy of love.

No one seems to be awake when I get home. Upstairs, I push open my bedroom door to find Nate gone, the bed neatly made. The only trace he was ever here is Bones, perched on my pillow like a silent guardian.

A knock interrupts my thoughts. Jake stands in the doorway, wearing an unusually bright smile.

"Nice run?" He steps inside, settling onto the bed.

I manage a smile in return. "It was."

"So, I know it's not your birthday today, but I've got something for you," he announces, producing a small box from his pocket. "Thought maybe you could wear it today."

Curiosity piques as I accept the box. Inside, nestled in velvet, rests a delicate gold necklace with a charm that pulls a laugh from me—a tiny golden whale. He remembers my obsession with whales, how I've dragged him through countless National Geographic documentaries about them, always dissolving into tears when mother and calf are separated.

"I still think you're the only person who doesn't cry at'The Notebook' but loses it during whale documentaries," he teases.

My heart swells—not from the gift's value, but because he remembers these small details about me.

"I love it," I whisper, fingers tracing the charm. "Thank you."

"Here, let me help you put it on." Jake's hands work the clasp, but linger longer than necessary at my neck. There's an odd tension as he watches me through the mirror.

"Beautiful," he whispers, too close to my ear.

"We should, um... check if the moms need help downstairs."

I hurry toward the stairs, trying to shake off the strange moment.

The house thrums with celebration, every sense awakening to Lydia's masterpiece. Fresh-cut roses and lilies perfume the air, their sweetness mingling with the warm, decadent scent of cinnamon and vanilla wafting from towers of Cinnabons—Lydia must have cleared out the entire bakery this morning. The backyard has transformed into something from a magazine spread: crystal-clear mason jars filled with fairy lights dot the perfectly manicured lawn, while delicate white string lights weave through the trees.

Even the placement of each fork and napkin feels intentional, precise. Jake and I have always shared our birthdays and Lydia always made a big deal over it. But this year, she's outdone herself. She's been up since the crack of dawn, directing her small army of helpers with military precision—adjusting centerpieces, rearranging chair formations, and fussing over every detail until it's perfect.

I catch her straightening a slightly crooked place card, and can't help but smile.

"That woman is like a bullet train. Does she even have an off switch?" Ollie grumbles, snagging a muffin while dodging Lydia's eagle eye.

I laugh, leaning against the doorframe. "Not when it comes to parties. You know how she gets."

Ollie shakes his head, cramming the muffin in his mouth. His gaze drifts to where Mia, Camilla, and Marcus are arriving. I watch the awkward dance between Mia and my brother as they hug—a gesture that reveals more than words ever could. Their connection is obvious, even if they haven't made it official. Warmth blooms in my chest watching them. It's been too long since I've seen Ollie this light, this present. But with Mia, something in him has reawakened.

"Hey, birthday girl," Mia greets me with a grin and quick hug.

"Glad you could make it." I squeeze her back.

"As if we'd miss this," Camilla gestures around, wide-eyed at the fairytale setting.

"That's Lydia for you," I shrug.

As afternoon deepens, the party gains momentum. Laughter and conversation wrap around me like a comfortable blanket, but something feels off. Jake keeps checking his phone, distracted, waiting for something—or someone. It's subtle, but I've known him my whole life. I can read the tension in his shoulders.

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