Page 16 of Before We Were

"Out," Nate snaps back.

"We have guests, Nate," she reminds him, gentler now.

"They'll be here tomorrow, won't they?" The door slams behind him, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

"Told you not to get your hopes up," Jake murmurs, earning a sharp look from Lydia.

The chatter eventually resumes, but there's a new tension threading through it. After dinner, we fall into our old routine—adults cook, kids clean, a rule Mom's enforced since we could reach the sink. The familiar rhythm of it feels like stepping back in time.

It's Jake who brings up the party Nate disappeared to, casually suggesting we all drop by. My stomach knots itself. After this morning's awkward encounter, the last thing I want is another round with Nate, especially not at a party. Ollie's enthusiasm doesn't help, but I opt for the safety of a book and early bedtime.

"You sure you don't want to come? It's your first night back, and it could be fun." Jake leans against my door frame, that boyish charm of his in full effect—dimples and all.

"As tempting as that sounds," I gesture to my comfy clothes, "someone sentenced me to an ungodly wake-up call tomorrow. I need all the sleep I can get."

His laugh fills the room like summer light. "It'll be worth it, I promise," he says, eyes sparking with barely contained excitement.

"Go have fun. I'll see you at the crack of dawn," I say, settling the matter.

"Okay, but if you change your mind??—"

"Jake, I'm good," I cut him off gently, softening it with a smile. "My book and I have a date."

"Fine, guess I do need you rested for tomorrow.” He steps forward, wrapping me in a hug that smells like clean laundry and something uniquely Jake. "Missed you, Nor."

"Missed you, too."

"Sweet dreams."

"Always."

The house settles into silence after they leave. I'm alone with my laptop, staring at a cursor that blinks like an accusation. I've been trying to write—anything, something. But the words have been stuck since the funeral. Writing used to be my escape, my dream, a passion Dad helped nurture. Now the blank screen feels like staring into an abyss. My attempts at creativity are interrupted by Lydia's soft knock.

"You didn't want to join the boys?" she asks, voice gentle as she appears in the doorway.

"Not really in a party mood this summer," I reply, the words trailing off as unwanted memories threaten to surface.

Lydia settles beside me on the bed, brushing a stray hair from my face with maternal tenderness. "Nora, honey, you're only sixteen once. After everything you've been through, it's okay to just be a teenager again. Your dad would want you to keep living, to experience life," she encourages, her voice soft but sure.

"I still have nightmares about it," I admit, my eyes fixed on the mockingly empty screen.

"Come here." Lydia opens her arms, and as I lean into her embrace, it feels like being wrapped in pure warmth. "He may be gone physically, but he'll always be here.” She taps my head, then my heart. We share a moment of understanding before she stands, her gaze falling on the outfit I'd tossed across the rocking chair earlier.

"I think you should wear that tonight," she suggests, her tone light but encouraging.

"The boys have already left, and it's late??—"

"It's only 9:30. Your ride is waiting downstairs," she counters, presenting the outfit with a hopeful smile.

"Go enjoy your last couple of weeks being sixteen," she insists, laying the clothes on my bed. At the door, she adds with a conspiratorial wink, "Just don't do anything your mother and I wouldn't. And definitely don't tell her I said that."

Standing in my room, I hover between two versions of myself—the one who crawls into bed with a book, and the one who takes a chance tonight. The past will always be there, but maybe I don't have to live in its shadow forever. I want to feel something other than this numbness that's become my constant companion this past year.

I smooth down my denim skirt—definitely shorter than my usual comfort zone—and try to ignore how exposed I feel in this top. A jacket would defeat the purpose, but the evening air reminds me exactly how much skin I'm showing. Standing here, I seriously question my sanity.

I should be in pajamas, not whatever this is. I head for the stairs anyway.

"Have fun!" Lydia calls from the kitchen.

---