Page 61 of Before We Were

Nora shifts, folding her arms as she stares out the windshield. "Welcome to life, Nate. We've all got shit going on that other people don't know about."

As soon as the words leave her mouth, I look over and catch the flash of regret across her face, like she's said too much, revealing a card she wasn't ready to play.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing." Her voice drops, soft and wounded. "I just... I feel like I've done something to make you this mad at me. Have I?" She asks, and fuck if those words don't sound like every sad playlist I've ever hate-listened to.

"No," I say, which is basically a lie wrapped in bullshit.

You just exist in a world where I can't have you and it's slowly killing me.

I mean, how do you tell someone: you're everywhere and nowhere, and I'm losing my mind trying to figure out which hurts more?

"Listen, you didn't do anything wrong," I rush to reassure her, guilt gnawing at my insides like acid. "It's just… everything's been a mess lately, and I'm trying to sort myself out. I shouldn't have been so hot and cold with you, okay? I'm sorry."

She sighs, the sound heavy with everything we're not saying. "I just wish you'd talk to me. I thought we were better than this." Her expression softens. "Is it even possible for things to go back to the way they were before?"

I meet her eyes, finding my own longing reflected back. "I don't know."

"Can we try?" she says quietly.

"We can try,” I reply, not knowing if either of us believe me right now.

The rest of the drive is quieter, but it's different now—less like a weapon and more like a truce.

We pull into her driveway, and she pauses before getting out. "Thanks for the ride."

"Anytime," I reply, watching her walk away.

The stark realization I'm having right now is that for her, I'd try anything. Even if it means facing all the shit I've been running from.

CHAPTER18

CARNIVALS AND CONFRONTATIONS

NORA

Callingit a distraction would be like calling a hurricane a light breeze. For the past hour, I've been hopelessly replaying Nate's words from our earlier car ride, each syllable etching itself deeper into my consciousness.

It's not about you.

The way he wouldn't meet my eyes, the tense set of his jaw making the muscle tick beneath his skin—none of it sat right. My fingers hover over the keyboard, the blank document's cursor blinking accusingly. Nate's presence weaves through my thoughts like smoke, stubborn and persistent. We said we'd try to be okay, but what does "okay" even mean when every glance between us feels charged with a thousand unspoken words?

I force my eyes back to the screen, its harsh light burning my tired eyes. I should be focused on Alfie's story. When he talked about Gracie, something in me stirred—a flicker of inspiration that's been dead for too long.

Jake's voice cuts through the silence. "If you need a muse for your main character then I volunteer as tribute."

I look up to see him lounging against the doorway, a familiar smirk playing on his lips. The sight of him, so effortlessly casual, makes me smile—this is how simple friendship should be. I laugh, shaking my head, grateful for the momentary escape from my thoughts.

"I'll keep that in mind for the next one. I think I'm onto something. It's not fully formed yet, though."

"Oh?" A grin spreads across his face. "Do tell."

"It's actually about Alfie," I manage, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I went back to the bookstore. He told me more about how him and Gracie met, and it got me thinking about a story I could write. Their story." The words feel inadequate, unable to capture the depth of what I'd witnessed in Alfie's eyes when he spoke of her.

"Well knowing Alfie and the life he's lived, I don't doubt it'll be anything short of incredible. Especially if you're writing it." He winks, his grin turning cheeky.

Jake pulls out a chair, the sound scraping against my nerves. "Are you sure you don't want to hit up the carnival tonight? Could be a good distraction. Might even help spark that idea into life."

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