Page 5 of Seven Lost Summers
But I need it. I need to see who we were before the world split open beneath us. I need that glimpse of a life untouched by tragedy. I want to hold on to a piece of something unruined, something still whole before Bianca was gone.
A flicker of surprise flashes in Quinn’s eyes, gone before I can catch it, replaced by something softer. It’s as if she understands why I’m asking, why I need this.
“Of course,” she says gently. “I have others too, if you want them.”
I nod, swallowing hard.
“I do.” My voice sounds steadier than I feel. I want every photo, every fragment of her I can hold on to, because this is all that’s left. All we’ll ever have.
Quinn’s gaze drops to the ground, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag. A faint smile tugs at her lips, but it never reaches her eyes.
“Do you remember those days when the three of you used to jam in your room?” she asks softly, her voice fragile and wistful.
I don’t have to answer; I can hear it all.
The crash of the drums, Nate’s laughter when he missed a beat, Bianca shouting at us to play louder because she didn’t give a damn about the neighbors. And Quinn, clapping along, grinning like we were unstoppable.
Nate chuckles softly, and for a moment his laughter cuts through the heaviness, a fleeting spark of warmth. His eyes brighten as he drifts into the memory, and for that instant it feels as if Bianca is here with us again, laughing, teasing, making everything seem lighter.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice softer now. “Bianca always pushed us to try every song we could think of. Even the ones we had no clue how to play. I remember she made us do ‘Wonderwall’ because it was her favorite. We absolutely butchered it.”
He laughs, shaking his head.
“But she didn’t care. She was singing at the top of her lungs, arms thrown around us like it was the best performance of her life.”
I can almost hear her voice, off-key and unapologetic, filling the room. I can see her hair falling into her eyes as she danced. She had this way of turning the shittiest moments into some of the best times of our lives.
That part of him, the wild, reckless Nate who used to feel just as untouchable as the rest of us, flickers through in his laugh.
And it breaks me, because I miss him. I miss her, but I miss him too. I miss the Nate who didn’t carry that constant shadow in his eyes, the Nate who didn’t sometimes feel like a stranger to me.
“Her laugh was the best part,” I say. It’s the one thing that hasn’t faded, the only piece of her I still hold on to.
Quinn bites her bottom lip, her jaw trembling just enough to show she’s fighting to hold it together. But she’s losing. I see it in the shine of her eyes, the rapid blinks as she tries to force the tears back.
“I have some photos from those days,” she says, her voice cracking. “They’re back at my apartment. You can come by and I can show you.”
I nod, but what I’m really holding isn’t relief—it’s desperation. I need those photos, need to cling to whatever remnants of her are still within reach. Because if I keep losing pieces of her, I’m terrified there won’t be anything left of me either.
“I’d love for you to have them,” Quinn says. “I can make more copies, but those photos… they’re treasures. They caught the happiness we had before everything fell apart.”
Nate and I lock eyes. No words pass between us. None are needed. The silence says everything.
“Yeah… we’d love that,” Nate says, his voice soft, cracking just enough to show the vulnerability beneath it.
I nod, the knot in my throat choking me. My gaze drops to the photo Quinn placed at Bianca’s grave.
Our sweet girl. The one Nate and I loved so deeply, so easily as if it had been written into our bones, as if she was always meant to be ours.
And she was… until she wasn’t.
Chapter 2
Theo
WefollowQuinnbackto her place, Nate behind the wheel, trailing her little blue shitbox of a car. The one that rattles like it might fall apart with every turn. I don’t know how the fuck it still runs, but Quinn drives it like it’s a Ferrari.
What surprises me most is that Nate wanted this, wanted to go to Quinn's place, knowing Bianca would be the only thing we’d talk about. Normally, after we visit her grave, he shuts down, locks everyone out.
