Page 141 of Before We Were

Almost too perfect.

But in my world, happy endings don't exist.

CHAPTER42

SORRY ON REPEAT

NATE

I'm still floating,drunk on the memory of Nora's lips on mine only minutes ago. The taste of her still lingers, sweet and electric, making my head spin in the best possible way. My fingers trace my bottom lip for the hundredth time tonight, chasing the ghost of her touch. For once in my life my chest is light, and my heart full of something that feels dangerously like hope.

I should know better by now.

The dim light spilling from the kitchen stops me cold, yanking me back to reality like a punch to the gut.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

This is how it always goes—one perfect moment before everything goes to shit. It's like the universe can't stand to see me happy, can't let me have one goddamn thing without reminding me who I am, what my life is.

The tension coils around my chest as I step through the doorway. Mom's there, perched at the counter, fingers wrapped loosely around a half-empty wine bottle. Her eyes are distant, glazed with a familiar emptiness that used to terrify me as a kid. Still does, if I'm honest. For a moment, old fears grip me: memories of finding her unconscious, checking her pulse with trembling fingers, praying this wouldn't be the time she didn't wake up. But tonight, she's upright, coherent enough to meet my gaze. After the day's events, I feel a bitter gratitude for even that small mercy.

My high from the kiss evaporates like smoke, replaced by the heavy weight of responsibility that's been crushing me since I was old enough to understand what was happening in this house. This is my reality—not stolen kisses and teenage dreams, but wine bottles and broken promises. Mom watches me, her expression a mixture of exhaustion and guilt, as if the burden of our unspoken history is finally too heavy to bear.

"Nate, I know you're angry right now, but??—"

"But?" The word escapes like venom. "No shit I'm angry, Mom." Each syllable feels like it's been lodged in my chest for years, finally breaking free. "I've spent my life trying to recover from what I should've been protected from. Angry doesn't even begin to cover it."

"I didn't know he was in town, let alone coming. Jake shouldn't have??—"

"Why do you think Jake invited him?" I cut her off, my words sharp as glass. "Because he has no fucking idea about anything. Because you always painted him as some kind of hero to Jake."

I can't bring myself to say 'dad'.

He's never earned that title.

My pulse thunders as years of suppressed rage boils over.

I'm done pretending.

Done being the ghost of a child who should have known joy instead of terror.

"You don't get to stand there and tell me how to feel. Not after everything I've done to protect you from him."

She flinches as if struck. Part of me wants her to feel it—the hurt, the betrayal, the endless nights of looking over my shoulder, waiting for his shadow to reappear. All because she couldn't bring herself to leave with Jake and me in tow.

"Nate, I'm not trying to tell you how to feel. I'm trying to??—"

"What?" My voice cracks with raw fury. "Help me? Protect me? Save me? You're fourteen years too late for that."

Her face crumples, tears welling up even as she fights to maintain composure—the same way she had through every one of his pathetic apologies.

"I know. I'm sorry, Nate. I'm so sorry??—"

"I was forced to grow up, Mom." The words tear from somewhere deep and wounded. "I didn't have a fucking choice in any of this. You did. You could've left the first time. You should've left the fifteenth time. But you didn't. You chose him over Jake and me every single time. And for the life of me, I can't understand why."

Her voice drops to a whisper. "It's complicated, Nate. None of this is that easy to??—"

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