"Your mom wanted you out because she loves you, Nate. She wanted a future for you."

A future.

That's almost laughable now. At the rate I'm going, I'd be lucky to make it to thirty-five.

"A future," I repeat. "And leave her behind? Leave Jake behind? So he could use them instead of me? I couldn't do it. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to them."

Her eyes soften, but there's a fire in them that makes my chest ache.

"You don't really think any of this was your fault, do you?"

She continues to hold my face in her hands, her palms warm against my skin, and for the first time in forever, I feel something.

Something good. Something I don't deserve, but can't help but crave.

When she looks at me like this, it's like she's reaching into the darkest parts of my soul and telling me it's going to be okay. That it's safe to be vulnerable with her. That she'll protect what remains of my heart with everything she has. And I believe her.

"Nate, if we let our nightmares define us, then we lose sight of our dreams." She glances up at me, a small smile playing at her lips. "I read that somewhere. Sounds pretty legit."

I huff out a laugh, even though my chest feels too tight to breathe. "Do you always see the silver lining in everything?"

She thinks about it, her eyes drifting up toward the sky, as if she's searching for an answer in the emerging stars.

"I guess I just choose to believe that you can find hope in the strangest places. Even in the darkest corners."

Her words stir something deep inside me, awakening feelings I've kept buried for too long.

Hope.

She talks about it like it's something that can be found, like a light hidden under layers of darkness. I've spent my whole life in that darkness, convinced there was no way out, but she—she makes me think maybe there's more.

"You really believe that?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Well, what's the alternative?" she says, shrugging lightly, like it's the simplest thing in the world. But that's Nora—she makes the impossible seem within reach, like there's always a way through. I've never met anyone like her, never met someone who could pull me out of my own head the way she does.

"How come you can believe in everyone else's dreams except your own?" I ask. I've always noticed that about her—she's the first to stand in someone's corner, to cheer them on, but she never gives herself the same grace.

"I've always found joy in cheering others on and watching the people I love succeed and thrive."