I slow to a walk as I reach the pier, brushing away sweat-dampened hair from my face. The sunrise bleeds through the clouds, painting everything in soft gold, but it feels like a beautiful lie—nature's attempt to pretend everything is okay when nothing feels right anymore.

I want Nate in ways that terrify me. But I'm more afraid of what giving in to those feelings could mean. Because once we cross that line, there's no going back. And I don't know if I'm ready for him to see all the broken pieces I've been hiding.

But losing him entirely?

That's a risk I can't bear to take.

By the time I make it back, sweat trickles down my spine and my legs feel weighted with lead. The summer heat wraps around me like a suffocating blanket, my breath still ragged from pushing too hard. I needed the burn, the distraction, something to quiet the chaos in my mind. But standing at the front door, exhaustion has replaced relief.

The moment I step inside, raised voices drift from the kitchen—Jake and Nate, their argument a familiar dance. I pause, wiping my forehead, straining to make out words spoken in tense, barely contained voices.

"Would it kill you to make a little effort with him? For all our sake?" Jake’s voice cuts like a blade.

"You never had to deal with him like I did." Nate’s reply carries an undercurrent of frustration.

"I'm not making excuses. I know he's not the picture-perfect family man. I know he's done shit too, but⁠⁠—"

"No, you don't," Nate interrupts, his voice cracking. "You've never had to—" The words shatter against silence.

I lean against the wall, my stomach knotting as I listen to them tear at old wounds. Their different childhoods always stood out like a stark line drawn between them—Jake the golden child Scott praised endlessly, while Nate could never seem to measure up. I'd watched Scott's face light up at Jake's every achievement while Nate bore the brunt of his disappointment, his anger, his bitterness.

It wasn't fair.

Their voices drop when they realize I'm here. I take my cue, stepping in to wish Jake happy birthday, even though I know Lydia will insist on the real celebration tomorrow. She's been doing this since we were kids—making a grand production of our "birthday-and-a-day" celebrations, since Jake and I were born exactly a year and a day apart.

Tomorrow will be all decorated cakes and embarrassing childhood photos, but today is just Jake's. And since he's already heading out to whatever plans he's made, that leaves me alone with Nate—something that rarely ends well. Which is why his invitation to go out on the boat later today catches me completely off guard.

"Or do you have plans?" He jokes with a sly smile, like he already knows the answer because my silence said as much.