Page 255 of Before We Were

My knees give out and a sound escapes me—something primal and broken that I barely recognize as human. The truth hits me in waves: nobody knows. Her mom is still laughing at some joke, Ollie's probably rolling his eyes at another of Marcus's stories, all of them existing in a world where Nora is still whole and safe.

"Nate." Jay's voice anchors me as his hands grip my shoulders. He crouches before me like a shield against the fluorescent glare. "She's a fucking warrior, okay? She's gonna pull through this. That girl is stronger than you think."

The words bounce off me like rain on glass. Even if she survives—even if by some miracle she opens those green eyes again—will I ever forgive myself for being the reason they almost closed forever?

Jay helps me to a row of cold, plastic chairs. My legs won't stop shaking, hands twitching in my lap like dying birds.

"I need your phone," I manage, my voice hollow and cracked.

Jay hands it over. My fingers tremble as I dial Mom's number, each ring echoing in my skull like a death knell.

"Nate! Thank God!" Kat's voice bursts through, bright as sunshine. "Your mom has been worried sick. Where are you? Is Nora with you?"

I try to swallow past the razor blades in my throat. "Kat." The words splinter, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut against the burning. "We're at the hospital. Nora… she's hurt."

The silence that follows is deafening. When Kat's voice returns, it's sharp with fear. "What? What do you mean she's hurt? Nate, what happened?"

I can't do it.

Can't form the words that will shatter their world like mine. My throat closes completely, and I just hand the phone back to Jay, pushing to my feet. I need to move, need to escape the fluorescent interrogation lights and the nurses' pitying stares. Jay's voice fades behind me as I stumble away, explaining what I can't.

The waiting room erupts when they arrive, a tsunami of fear and desperation crashing through the sterile calm. Kat charges toward the nurses' station, her voice razor-sharp as she demands answers. Mom appears before me, her face drained of color, and wraps her arms around me. Everything shatters. My knees give out, and I fold into her embrace, my body wracked with tremors I can't control. The weight of tonight—the blood, the flames, Nora's lifeless form in my arms—crushes me beneath its magnitude.

But Jake stands like a statue carved from fury, his fists clenched at his sides. His eyes burn into me with an intensity that could melt steel, holding none of the brotherly warmth I once knew. Only raw, unfiltered hatred.

And I welcome it.

The doctor's entrance splits the tension like lightning.

"She's in surgery and we have her in a stable condition for now, but it's touch and go," he announces, and oxygen floods my lungs for the first time in hours. "Multiple fractured ribs, severe head trauma from the impact. We're running additional scans for internal bleeding and checking organ function, but she's incredibly lucky. If she hadn't arrived when she did…" His eyes find mine, softening. "You may have just saved her life. Any later, and we might have lost her."

The words should feel like absolution, but they taste like ash in my mouth. Saving her isn't redemption, not when I'm the reason she needed saving in the first place.

Jake steps forward, his face contorted with fury I've never seen before.

"This is your fault."

The words slice through me, finding every vulnerable spot. I meet his gaze, but there's nothing left in me to fight back. Instead, I feel myself sinking into the familiar darkness that's always lurked at the edges of my consciousness.

He's right.

This is your fault.

If you'd just answered her call, like you promised.

You did this.

You fuck up everything you touch, remember?

"She wouldn't have been out there if it wasn't for you," Jake spits, each word a bullet. "She was looking for you, Nate. You! But you didn't answer your fucking phone."

The darkness whispers,you know what you need to do to make this pain go away.

"Jake," Lydia starts, but he steamrolls over her, voice rising like thunder.

It’ll be quick and easy. Like old times.

"How are you gonna handle this one, huh?" His laugh is a knife across glass. "You gonna run off, get high and forget about all the collateral damage you've caused? Like every other time before?"

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