Page 143 of Before We Were

"I'll never get my childhood back. That's gone. And right now, I don't know what's left of my future. So if my way of dealing with this doesn't look right to you, I don't care. I'm done caring about what looks right. I'm done caring, period."

It's a lie.

I'll always care, even when I don't want to.

The truth is simpler: I'm tired. Bone-deep, soul-shattering tired. Tired of the beatings—physical, emotional, and everything between. Tired of broken promises and pain that clings like a second skin.

"I'll never stop being sorry, Nate," she whispers, wiping tears with her sleeve. "I should have done more to protect you. Just… tell me what you need from me."

I stare at her—the woman who should have been my shield—and feel hollow. "I need space."

"Nate, please??—"

"If you want to salvage whatever's left between us," I cut her off, my voice quiet but firm, "then stop. Now. Before I say something I really can't take back."

She starts toward the door, then stops. From a kitchen drawer, she pulls out a folder and drops it on the counter.

"I've filed for divorce." Her voice wavers. "You're right, I should've done it years ago, but… I'm doing it now. I didn't protect you when you needed me most. Even if I… I had my reasons, I should have done better for you, for Jake. For us."

I keep my face unreadable. "Then tell Jake. Don't let him find out about this on his own."

She nods, broken determination in her eyes, and leaves. In the emptiness that follows, I sink to the floor, head in my hands.

For the first time in years, I let the tears threaten to fall.

I drag myself upstairs, exhausted and strung out. At Nora's door, I hesitate, my hand hovering over the handle. It takes every ounce of control not to go in, not to kiss her again, not to lose myself in her like before. I force myself onward.

In my room, I collapse onto the bed, mind spinning.

I kissed her.

I kissed Nora.

And it was everything I've wanted, everything I've never let myself imagine. The memory overwhelms me—the warmth of her breath, her lips fitting against mine as if they were made for me. I can't stop wondering how her skin would feel under my hands, how she'd taste if I kissed her deeper, pulled her closer, made her mine. I want her in ways I don't know possible. But reality's cold weight settles in, familiar as breathing. Good things don't last in my life. They either slip away or I destroy them first.

I do what I've always done: push people away, keep them at arm's length, shield myself from inevitable hurt. It's safer that way—for me, for her.

CHAPTER43

SEVENTEEN

NORA

Seventeen feelsdifferent than I expected—there's a strange ache, both comforting and terrifying. Before dawn breaks, I'm pounding the pavement, each footfall echoing the rhythm of my racing thoughts. The cool morning air bites at my exposed skin, but I barely notice. I can't shake him. Thoughts of last night circle around me, pressing heavily against my chest.

I kissed Nate.

And he kissed me back.

That memory flickers like a spark in the darkness. The taste of him lingers—sharp and intoxicating—a ghost of sensation that makes my heart race even now. I crave the closeness again, that intense connection that felt like coming home and falling apart all at once.

Yesterday spiraled from disaster into something unexpectedly magical. Scott's presence cast a shadow over everything as it always does. He's not just Nate's father; he's the origin of every hidden scar, every deep-seated pain Nate endures. Watching Nate stiffen under his father's scrutinizing gaze, every part of me wanted to shield him from that familiar darkness.

I found him in the boatshed with the dim light filtering through dusty windows. He stood hunched over a table, his hands clenched as he stared down at the small bags that seemed like both escape and chains. They bound him to everything he'd been trying to flee. I'd whispered his name, barely able to breathe.

He wouldn't look at me but I saw it—the war waging inside him, the way he fought against everything he didn't want to be. I understood more than he'd ever know. It was like staring at a mirror, seeing my own broken pieces reflected in his silence, in the shadows he carried. Then he looked at me, eyes raw and wild, and I saw his pain so clearly it became my own. For a moment, all the walls we'd built around ourselves crumbled. The only thing left was our shared need to hold each other, to find something steady and real in this storm of emotions.

The kiss was wild, fierce. Every emotion we'd buried came flooding out at once—fear, frustration, longing. There was nothing gentle about it. Every nerve in my body was alive, ignited by him, by the unspoken need between us that couldn't be denied anymore. And underneath it all, there was this ache—a bittersweet tenderness. Because this was the boy I'd known forever, who carried his scars with such quiet strength. The boy who'd suffered more than anyone deserves.

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