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.

28. You’re Naked

CHAPTER 28

YOU’RE NAKED

NORA

The early morning air 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.