Page 91 of Before We Were

"For what?" My voice comes out raw, exposed.

"For being there," she answers simply, but her tone carries layers of meaning that make my heart race.

Before I can process what's happening, she leans closer, erasing the careful distance between us. Her lips brush my cheek, soft as a whisper, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. It's barely a touch, but it ignites every nerve ending in my body, sending electricity coursing through my veins. She pulls back too soon, slipping out of the car like a dream fading in the morning light. Though she's gone, the phantom sensation of her lips lingers, burning into my skin like a brand. I nod dumbly, trying to gather the scattered pieces of myself as she disappears into the night.

I slump back against the seat, the void she leaves behind almost tangible. My heart thunders against my ribs, a chaotic drumbeat that echoes the turmoil she stirs in me. Something has shifted tonight, changed irrevocably, and I'm left grappling with a feeling that's both exhilarating and terrifying.

The urge to follow her, to pull her into my arms and show her how she makes me feel alive in ways nothing else can, is almost overwhelming. But I stay rooted to my seat, hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. While I'm prone to making mistakes, she's one I can't afford to risk. Not when the stakes are this high.

When I finally make it to bed, I stare at the ceiling, knowing sleep is a lost cause. Her words keep echoing in my mind like a persistent melody.

What if she's right?

What if the universe is trying to tell me something, and I'm just too fucking scared to listen?

As I start to drift off, the image of her floods my consciousness—those eyes, and a smile that could outshine the stars. Nora is etched into every part of me, a piece I can't excise no matter how hard I try. I know I should be running from this, from her. Every lesson life has taught me screams to get away before I destroy the one good thing I have left. But for the first time in years, I don't want to run.

And that terrifies me more than anything.

Because loving Nora isn't just about risking my heart anymore—it's about risking hers, too. And I'm not sure which would be worse: losing her again or watching the light in those bright green eyes dim because of me. As I lie here in the darkness, her lingering warmth still ghosting across my skin, I realize I really am in too deep.

But then again, when it comes to her, I always have been.

CHAPTER28

YOU’RE NAKED

NORA

The early morningair clings to my skin as I push through Eden's quiet streets. My feet pound against the pavement in a steady rhythm that keeps me grounded, each step an attempt to outrun the thoughts that have haunted me since that night last summer—since seeing Evan here again. His presence lingers like the smell of smoke in an empty house—subtle at first, then suddenly suffocating as you realize what it might mean.

Running became my salvation after Dad died. After finding him sprawled on the living room floor.

One year ago today.

The anniversary sits heavy in my chest, a weight no amount of miles can shed. I remember the way time fractured in that moment—before and after—how I stood frozen in the doorway, how the neighbors heard my screams before I even registered I was making them.

What started as an escape from grief transformed into my daily ritual, my slice of freedom when life feels unbearably heavy. On mornings like this, with dew still glistening on the grass and the world half-asleep, I can almost pretend he's waiting at home, coffee brewing, asking about my route when I return.

Almost.

Even as my muscles burn and the world blurs around me, I can't escape the pain. That's the thing about pain... it doesn't care how fast you run or how desperately you try to outpace it. It lives in your bones, travels with you, waits patiently for quiet moments to remind you it never left. The pain of what happened last summer. I can't outrun the fact that today marks twelve months since I became the girl who found her father dead, and had a piece of her soul stolen from her.

The streets are empty save for an elderly couple tending to their garden. I keep my eyes fixed on the ground, fighting the urge to take in my surroundings. The last thing I need is an early morning panic attack.

At the beach, waves lap against the shore in gentle contradiction to my racing thoughts. I pause, breath ragged, staring at the horizon painted in dawn's watercolors. The question that's been eating at me surfaces again: What would I do if I saw Evan? Would I crumble, or finally stand my ground?

My mind drifts to Nate.

The way he knew exactly how to calm me down during my panic attack, breathing with me when I couldn't remember how. There was something familiar in his understanding, like he'd had to do that hundreds of times before himself. The thought tugs at something deep within me, making me wonder what else lies beneath his stoic exterior.

That late-night drive reminded me of simpler times, when Nate first got his license and drove straight to my house just so we could listen to the new Kings Of Leon album together. We barely spoke then, just let the music fill the space between us, but I felt untouchable with him there. Last night felt the same, yet different, charged with something new and unnamed.

Back home, the house is silent when I slip inside. With headphones still in, I head upstairs, my body humming from exertion but my mind clearer, the morning fog lifting just enough to breathe. I push open the bathroom door and my breath catches. My phone clatters to the floor as I collide with a wall of muscle. Nate stands there, fresh from the shower, with only a towel slung low on his hips. Steam curls around him like something out of mythology. Water trails down his face, catching in dark strands of hair. His skin glistens, each muscle and contour sharply defined as if carved from marble. The scars mapping his skin tell stories of battles fought and won, only adding to his allure. My heart aches with a mixture of awe and something deeper, more dangerous.

I'm staring, and we both know it.

The pull between us is magnetic, impossible to resist. My breath hitches as my gaze drops to his chest, then snaps back to his eyes. My heart pounds so hard I swear he can hear it.

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