Page 277 of Before We Were

I got him out of Eden.

Away from the noise and the shadows that kept trying to pull him under. Because sometimes the only way to find yourself is to get lost somewhere new and face the demons without the familiar distractions, or in his case, the influences slowly poisoning him from the inside out.

I pulled every string I could, set him up with a job at one of my wineries in Europe. Something quiet and steady in a small Spanish town where sunlight spills over ancient stone walls and the air smells of salt and possibility.

A place where he could breathe. I told him to take time, figure himself out, and start living for himself instead of surviving for everyone else. I even nudged him toward the music. Hell, I all but pushed him. Because I've heard what that kid can do with a guitar and a pen. I saw the way people stopped mid-conversation when he played on opening night, like he was tapping into something universal and true. That kind of talent doesn't come along often, and I refuse to let it get buried under this town and his family's expectations.

And for once, he didn't argue. He just nodded, eyes glassy but determined, and I knew then that maybe, just maybe, he'd finally seen himself through someone else's eyes. Seen what I'd been trying to tell him all along.

Now he's over there, somewhere in the rolling hills of the town that changed my life many years ago, working the vineyards during the day and playing gigs at night in little bars where nobody knows his name or his story.

I get the occasional update—a text here, a grainy photo or sound bite of a melody he's playing around with—and each one feels like proof that sometimes, faith in someone pays off. He's still got a long road ahead, but he's walking it, one step at a time, finding his way back to himself.

As for Nora, she's thriving in London. She boarded the plane with a spark in her eye I haven't seen since before the accident. She's chasing her dreams, the ones Nate secretly believed in enough to submit that scholarship application behind her back. The irony isn't lost on me—Nate, drowning in his own mess, still managed to throw her a lifeline. It's just who he is, even when he's breaking apart. Always thinking of others first.

Always seeing the best in everyone but himself.

I look out over the quiet Eden street, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the lawn. This town has been a lot of things to a lot of people.

A sanctuary, a prison, a turning point.

For me, it's been all three. But as I stand here, the warm breeze carrying the scent of impending summer, I know it's also been something else.

It's been home.

For better or worse, Eden has a way of leaving its mark on you. Of getting under your skin and staying there. And while part of me wonders if Nate will ever find his way back here, another part knows that, no matter where he goes, this place—these people—will always be with him. Because that's the thing about family. It's not just blood or proximity. It's the people you fight for, the ones you refuse to give up on, even when they've given up on themselves. It's about seeing the best in someone even when they're at their worst.

I won't ever give up on Nate.

I couldn't then, and I won't now. Not when I see so much of myself in his struggles, not when I know what he could become if he just gives himself the chance.

Kat steps out onto the porch, her smile warm and familiar, pulling me back to the present. She's been my rock through all of this, understanding without judgment, supporting without pushing. The sunlight catches in her hair, turning ordinary brown into a tapestry of amber and gold.

"You okay?" she asks, her voice soft but grounded. Her eyes—those eyes that see through every wall I've ever built—search mine with quiet concern.

I nod, sliding an arm around her waist, drawing strength from the solid warmth of her.

"Yeah," I say, and for the first time in a long time, I mean it.

Life doesn't always go the way we plan. It's messy, unpredictable, and downright unfair at times. But it's also beautiful in its chaos. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's that sometimes, the hardest roads lead to the most unexpected places.

I'm lost in these thoughts when my phone buzzes on the counter. I glance at the screen, and my stomach tightens, a familiar knot of dread and anticipation.

It's from Danny, the one guy I trust with my life and probably one of the only cops who refuses to be bought in this town.

Danny

Dead end.

I reread the message like it might change if I stare long enough, like the truth I'm looking for might suddenly appear between the lines.

A hit-and-run. That's all we know officially.

No license plate, no witnesses, just the aftermath. It's been months, and still no answers. Danny's been keeping tabs on it for me—or maybe for himself, since he hates loose ends almost as much as I do. But every lead we've chased has fizzled out like smoke in the wind. And yet, something doesn't sit right.

Call it instinct or experience, but I can't shake the feeling that this wasn't random. The timing, the location—it all fits too neatly for coincidence, but the evidence doesn't connect. Not yet, anyway.

But I've got time.

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