Page 29 of Before We Were

The ocean stretches before me, a vast darkness under a star-scattered sky. My chest aches with longing for simpler comforts: worn pajamas, a soft blanket, the familiar comfort of my favorite movies. I close my eyes, breathe in the salty air and listen as the waves create their endless rhythm.

"Hey, Dad," I whisper to the moon, its gentle light a poor substitute for his presence. "I miss you. I'm sorry it's been a while." The words feel foolish, yet they're the only bridge I have to him now. Grief is relentless. It comes in waves and the one person who could help me navigate these feelings is the very one who is gone.

Footsteps interrupt my solitude. Before I can react, unfamiliar hands wrap around me. The scent is wrong—not the one that means safety. My heart pounds against my ribs as Connor pulls me closer.

"Who are you talking to out here all by yourself?" His breath reeks of alcohol, hot against my neck.

"Connor, you're drunk." I struggle against his grip, but he only tightens his hold when I turn to face him. His fingers digging into my waist.

"Come on, Nora. You've made me chase you, save you, all night." His words slither between us as he edges closer.

"I didn't ask you to do either," I snap, pushing against his chest, but he's immovable.

“But I still did.” His grin turns predatory, misinterpreting my fear for coyness.

"We should go back to the party." Desperation edges into my voice.

"Or we could go to my place."

My stomach lurches. "I'm good."

"Fine, we could do it here.” The dangerous edge in his tone makes my blood run cold. "You like playing hard to get, don't you?"

"I'm not playing. Let me go, Connor." Terror roots me to the spot as his grip tightens further.

"Or what?" His lips brush my ear, sending revulsion through me.

This can't be happening.

Not again.

I need to fight, to scream, but panic throttles every instinct.

"Connor, seriously get off me. Now." My shove against his chest only makes him press closer, his lips trailing down my neck as tears blur my vision.

"I bet you taste so fucking good, Nora. His whispered words make me shudder before his mouth crashes onto mine.

A familiar, husky voice cuts through the night like a blade. "You have three seconds to get away from her."

Nate appears, his expression murderous, body coiled with fury. Relief floods through me, tangled with fresh fear.

"Fuck off, Sullivan," Connor hisses, his hold loosening slightly.

“Get your fucking hands off of her, or you won't have any left to fuck yourself with." Nate's voice drops to a deadly whisper. "I'm not going to tell you again."

"Is that a threat?"

"Did it sound like a compliment?"

"Nora and I were just get??—"

Nate's fist connects with Connor's face before he can finish. "Time's up."

The impact sends him stumbling backward, blood trickling from his split lip. Nate advances, each punch precise and brutal.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Connor clutches his jaw, trying to defend himself.

"I warned you." Nate grabs Connor's shirt, pulling him close. "But then again people like you never fucking listen."

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