Page 241 of Before We Were

The opening notes of"You and Me"by Lifehouse drift from the earbuds. Nate places one in my ear, the other in his—an intimate gesture that sends butterflies through my chest. He tucks the iPod into his pocket and pulls me close, his grip steady against my back. Cool evening air mingles with the warmth of his body as we move together, finding our rhythm in the space between heartbeats. The world quiets, holding its breath as we dance in the dark.

His forehead touches mine, breath soft on my face as I rest my cheek against his chest. His heartbeat drums beneath my ear, steady and strong—a rhythm I could lose myself in forever. When he sings the chorus, low and gravelly, my lips curl into an involuntary smile, the kind that breaks through like sunshine after rain. I look up, and the light in his eyes steals my breath.

"You know what's messed up?" he murmurs, thumb tracing circles on my back.

"What?"

"There are over a billion words in hundreds of languages, and none of them could describe how you make me feel," he says, each word weighted with truth.

I swallow past the tightness in my throat.

"Maybe that's because some feelings aren't meant for words. They're just meant to be felt."

His fingers tighten around mine, gaze burning into me like he's committing every detail to memory.

"I want this," he says, voice thick with emotion. "I want us. You and me. But…" He closes his eyes briefly before meeting mine again, raw vulnerability in his expression. "I'm scared I'll fuck it up because… because my life is such a wreck."

"Right now," I whisper, touching his bruised face, "I just want this moment."

He pulls me closer, and we look at each other like this cosmic dance we've been doing all along was finally bringing us home. And so, we hold on to this fragment of time, fleeting and infinite all at once.

The universe began in a single moment.

A cosmic explosion that birthed stars, planets, and the very matter that makes us who we are. Before it, there was nothing. Then everything. Moments like this remind me of that—a blip in the vastness of existence, but no less profound. Like stars being born, some moments burn so bright they leave their mark on eternity.

But moments are always destined to become memories, precious and fragile, even as they shape who we become.

CHAPTER69

NO MORE HIDING

NATE

A few dayshave passed since Monty turned me into his personal canvas. The bruises are fading from purple-black to sickly yellows and greens, like a twisted watercolor painting. My ribs still protest with each breath, but they're healing. Hospitals aren't an option—too many X-rays would map out years of Scott's handiwork in broken bones and hairline fractures.

So, I do what I've always done:survive.

Nora's become my morning ritual, her small hands gentle as she covers the worst of the damage. Each brush of her fingers against my jaw is both salvation and torment—a reminder that she sees all of me, even the parts I try to bury.

That night after Furlo's haunts me. Every breath felt like swallowing shattered glass, blood seeping into my clothes from places I couldn't count. The lake stretched before me like black silk under the moonlight, and there she was—a beacon in the darkness, perched on the dock just like when we were kids, feet skimming the water's surface. Everything in me screamed to walk away. Monty's threats echoed in my head like a death sentence. Knowing about her—it's painted a target on her back.

Each step toward the dock felt like wading through molasses, weighted with equal parts longing and dread. She turned, her expression softening at the sight of me before hardening with concern as I stepped closer, revealing Monty's handiwork.

She reached for my hand, and I let her. Her touch was warmth in the cold, a reminder that not everything in my world was violence and shadows. But looking at her—God, all I could hear was Monty's voice, his threats about her playing on repeat. I couldn't drag her into this darkness. Not her. Not my one pure thing.

Her green eyes searched mine, questions swimming in their depths. The kiss that followed tasted of blood and desperation, and she didn't pull away. She tightened her fingers in my ruined shirt, drawing out my darkness with each press of her lips. Her fingers in my hair felt like absolution. I didn’t want to open my eyes, scared it would be another pain-induced hallucination.

Or worse, she’d finally see what Jake already knew—that I'm not good enough for her. Never have been, never will be.

But I'm selfish, and I'm addicted to how she makes me feel. She's the closest thing to heaven I'll ever know, and I'll burn in Hell for wanting her this much.

Nora's fingers ghost over my jaw, dabbing concealer on the worst of the bruises pulling me from the memory. She's precise, methodical—like she's done this a thousand times before.

"You're thinking too loud," she murmurs, tilting my chin to catch better light. Her touch is feather-light, but it burns straight through me.

I try to smile, but it pulls at my split lip. "Just remembering."

The restof the morning is spent at Sonder with Nick, using the space to rehearse. Music has always been my escape hatch, the one place where I feel untouchable, where the noise in my head transforms into something beautiful. Summer's winding down, and if I've got no plans, I could take Nick up on his offer to go to Spain to write and maybe record an album. I don't know how, but Nick seems to have connections within the industry.

---