Page 94 of Before We Were

As we sample our drinks, he outlines his timeline, mentioning contractor troubles. Lydia jumps in,

"You know, my son Nate could help. He needs something to keep himself busy this summer."

Nick's surprise is evident. "Nate? Nate Sullivan?"

Lydia half-jokes, "Please don't tell me he's caused trouble."

"No trouble," Nick laughs. "He actually offered to help when he visited my uncle's bookstore. He's coming in later today actually."

The revelation startles both Lydia and me. Nate at the bookstore? Volunteering?

Mom interjects proudly, "Well, Nate's always been handy with a great eye for detail. You'll have this place fixed up in no time."

I nod, lost in thought. Mom's always seen something special in Nate—something I'm beginning to understand myself.

At Criniti's, we claim a cozy corner booth, perfect for Lydia's conspiratorial glances between Mom and Nick. The conversation inevitably turns to him.

"So...," Lydia draws out his name, eyeing Mom suggestively.

"Lydia, no," Mom cuts her off with a knowing head shake.

"I didn't say anything!"

"Your face says plenty," Mom retorts, rolling her eyes playfully.

"I'm just saying he's single. And??—"

"You don't know that," Mom interrupts, crossing her arms defensively.

Lydia sips her wine with exaggerated elegance. "Please, the Country Club gossips could out-sleuth the FBI. He's definitely single. And successful. And hot. Really hot."

The tension thickens as Mom shifts uncomfortably. We've never really discussed her dating since Dad, and her reluctance is clear. It pains me to see her so closed off.

"He's really nice, Mom," I offer softly, surprising both women. Mom's expression softens as she traces her coffee cup's rim.

"I—I just don't know if I'm ready. It's been so long... since your Dad." The familiar pang in my chest sharpens. Dad was her great love—how could anyone compare?

Lydia persists, "What if we invited him to the Fourth of July party? Just as a welcome to Eden gesture?" Mom scoffs at the transparent suggestion.

Checking her watch, Lydia changes course.

"Think about it. We should go—Jake will be here soon. I'll get the bill." As she stands, she wobbles slightly, catching herself on the table. "Should've worn better shoes," she jokes, drawing a soft chuckle from Mom. I take the moment to excuse myself to the bathroom.

Threading through the narrow restaurant, the ambient chatter fades as a group of teenagers bursts in, their laughter bouncing off the walls. Their carefree energy highlights just how heavy my world has become. I keep my head down, hoping to slip past unnoticed, but something about their voices pulls at me.

They sound familiar—too familiar—and my stomach clenches with recognition.

CHAPTER29

THE QUIET DESTRUCTION

NATE

I wakeup drenched in sweat, sheets tangled around me like a vice. My heart pounds against my ribs while the pre-dawn air sits thick and heavy in my lungs. The nightmares are always waiting, lurking just beneath my eyelids, ready to drag me back into that darkness the moment I let my guard down.

It's always him. The crack of his fist meeting bone, the thunder of my own pulse drowning out everything else. That look in his eyes right before impact—cold, detached, like I wasn't even his son.

4:48 AM glares at me from the bedside clock. I push off the sheets, but the remnants of the dream cling to my skin like tar. Without the drugs, everything's sharper, more visceral. The screams—Mom's screams—echo in my head with perfect clarity now. There's nowhere to hide anymore.

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