Page 219 of Before We Were

"Good. Now feel my hands. You feel them on your shoulders?"

I nod, focusing on the steady pressure of his touch, the warmth that seeps through my skin.

"Last one," he says, leaning closer until his face fills my vision. "Keep your eyes on me. Don't look away, Leni."

The nickname hits me like a wave of nostalgia—summer days and secret hideouts, skinned knees and shared ice cream. Memories. Happy ones. My breath catches, but it's different now. Less panic, more recognition.

"Good," he whispers, and the pride in his voice wraps around me like a blanket. "You're doing good. Just keep going. Breathe."

Slowly, the world stops spinning. My vision clears, the dizziness ebbs, and my lungs remember their rhythm.

"Tell me what you need."

"I-I need to scream," I confess, the words ripping from somewhere deep and raw inside me.

His eyes soften, and he pulls me into his chest like he's trying to absorb my pain through osmosis.

"Okay," he murmurs, cradling my head against his heart. "Then scream. I've got you. Let it out."

Those three words—I've got you—echo through my bones. Not 'I love you', not empty promises or hollow comfort. This is Nate, showing me what he's proven all summer: he's here, he's real, and he won't let me fall.

The scream tears from my throat, years of buried pain finally finding release. It's muffled against his shirt, but it shakes through both of us. He doesn't flinch, just holds me tighter like he's daring my personal demons to try getting past him. His arms are an unbreakable fortress, steady even as I pour out everything I've been holding back. When the scream fractures into sobs, he keeps me upright, one hand threading through my hair while the other traces circles on my back. He creates a cocoon around us, just like the blanket forts of our childhood, where nothing bad could touch us.

"I got you," he whispers against my hair, his heartbeat steady under my ear. "Always."

I feel the truth of it in every touch, every breath we share. The tightness in my chest unravels, the sharp edges of my pain gradually smoothing under his careful hands. When my sobs quiet to hiccups, I pull back just enough to meet his gaze. His thumb brushes away a tear, so gentle it cracks open something new inside me—not destruction, but possibility.

"Hi," he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his hand lingering on my cheek.

"Hi," I breathe.

His eyes search mine, seeing past the mascara tracks and tear-stained cheeks to the truth I can't hide anymore. "Len, what happened?"

"She… she has them, Nate," I whisper, my voice raw.

"Who?" His brows furrow, but I see the storm gathering in his eyes.

"Farrah. She has the photos."

His body goes rigid, the tenderness in his expression hardening to steel.

"Stay here," he says, his voice careful but brooking no argument.

"Where are you going?" Panic flutters in my chest as he steps away.

"I'll be right back," he promises, his touch lingering on my cheek before he strides past Camilla and through the door.

Camilla catches my eye and shrugs. We both know there's no stopping Nate when he's like this.

I slide down to the floor, exhaustion tugging at my bones. But even as the weight of everything threatens to pull me under again, I hold onto the one truth I know: Nate has me. In every way that matters, in all the ways that count, he has me.

CHAPTER63

HE CAN’T, BUT I WILL

NATE

Rage surges through me,raw and unrelenting. My chest constricts and my throat burns as my vision narrows to Farrah's smug smirk, her casual cruelty a knife twisting in my gut. The moment Nora's trembling voice told me what Farrah did—that she somehow got those photos I thought were destroyed—everything else faded away.

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