Page 58 of Before We Were

"Shut up, Jake," I mutter, but there's no real heat behind it.

Ollie raises his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, man, no judgment here."

It's not their judgment I care about, anyway.

We reach the beach, and it's like stepping into a memory. The boardwalk stretches before us, less crowded than usual, giving us the freedom we crave. We skate along, morning sun warming our backs, the rhythmic crash of waves providing a constant backdrop to our laughter.

The ocean welcomes us with its brisk chill. I strap my board to my ankle, muscle memory taking over as I paddle out. For a while, everything else fades—just sun, surf, and the pure freedom of being on the water. Time stretches and compresses all at once, reality narrowing to this single perfect moment.

Exhausted from the morning's exertions, we eventually slow down, lounging on our boards, trading jokes and stories. It's in these moments, simple and unguarded, that I realize what I've missed most—just being with my brother and best friend, no drama, no tension. Just us, the ocean, and the endless sky above.

It's a rare kind of peace, and for now, it's enough.

As the sun climbs higher and the crowd swells, I feel the pull to stay until sunset, but I promised Jay I'd catch up with him. Reluctantly, I agree it's time to pack it in.

"I'm starving," Ollie announces, breaking through my thoughts.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "And you're telling me this because...?"

"I need you to feed me," he says, deadpan.

Jake snorts, and I shake my head, chuckling. "Are you ever not hungry?"

"You calling me fat?" Ollie shoots back, his mock scowl barely hiding his grin.

"You're an idiot," I retort.

"A hungry idiot. Seriously, what's the plan for food?" He rubs his stomach theatrically.

After loading the boards into the car and watching Jake head off to rinse, Ollie and I linger by the trunk. I've been holding back all morning, but there's one thing—one person—gnawing at me. I've been avoiding her since that night by the pool, but I can't shake the persistent sadness I saw in her eyes.

"Hey, uh, your sister," I start, the words catching in my throat like fishhooks. "Is she... is she doing okay? After the other night at the party?" The memory of her expression haunts me—there was something in it beyond typical grief, something that set off warning bells I couldn't ignore.

Ollie doesn't seem surprised by my question. "You know Nora. Resilient as hell but stubborn to a fault. She seems fine though."

"How has she been since... since your dad passed? I mean, really been?" The guilt of my absence weighs heavy in my words.

His face clouds over.

"She was the one who found him. And by the time Mom and I got home..." he trails off. "It's like she was there, but not really. She suffered in silence and didn't talk to anyone about any of it. Mom and I tried our asses off. And then those fucking friends of hers at school just dropped her like she was nothing when she needed them most."

My throat tightens and my heart aches at the thought of anyone hurting someone like Nora.

"I'm sorry," I admit, voice low. "I should have been there. For you, for her."

Ollie looks at me, his expression softer than I deserve.

"I won't lie. It sucked not having you around, man. You're one of my best friends, and Nora—she had Jake, but I know she missed you too." He claps me on the shoulder. "But I get it, you had your own hell to deal with. Life's too fucking short to hold grudges against the people you care about. So, I forgive you." A half-smile crosses his face. "Just don't miss my birthday or you're really dead to me."

I laugh, as he pulls me into a quick hug. The forgiveness lifts a weight I didn't realize I'd been carrying, but my mind keeps circling back to Nora, to those shadows in her eyes.

Jake reappears, breaking our moment.

"We gonna chat all day, or are we gonna eat?"

My phone buzzes again—Jay's fifth call today.

"You guys go ahead," I say, forcing a smile. "I need to handle something. I'll catch up later."

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