That memory flickers like a spark in the darkness. The taste of him lingers—sharp and intoxicating—a ghost of sensation that makes my heart race even now. I crave the closeness again, that intense connection that felt like coming home and falling apart all at once.

Yesterday spiraled from disaster into something unexpectedly magical. Scott's presence cast a shadow over everything as it always does. He's not just Nate's father; he's the origin of every hidden scar, every deep-seated pain Nate endures. Watching Nate stiffen under his father's scrutinizing gaze, every part of me wanted to shield him from that familiar darkness.

I found him in the boatshed with the dim light filtering through dusty windows. He stood hunched over a table, his hands clenched as he stared down at the small bags that seemed like both escape and chains. They bound him to everything he'd been trying to flee. I'd whispered his name, barely able to breathe.

He wouldn't look at me but I saw it—the war waging inside him, the way he fought against everything he didn't want to be. I understood more than he'd ever know. It was like staring at a mirror, seeing my own broken pieces reflected in his silence, in the shadows he carried. Then he looked at me, eyes raw and wild, and I saw his pain so clearly it became my own. For a moment, all the walls we'd built around ourselves crumbled. The only thing left was our shared need to hold each other, to find something steady and real in this storm of emotions.

The kiss was wild, fierce. Every emotion we'd buried came flooding out at once—fear, frustration, longing. There was nothing gentle about it. Every nerve in my body was alive, ignited by him, by the unspoken need between us that couldn't be denied anymore. And underneath it all, there was this ache—a bittersweet tenderness. Because this was the boy I'd known forever, who carried his scars with such quiet strength. The boy who'd suffered more than anyone deserves.

But even now, I'm afraid.

Afraid to let him see all the broken parts of me I hide, and the trauma I carry in silence. There's a darkness in my story that I can't bear to share, even with him.

What if he saw me differently?

What if all he saw from that point on was damaged goods?

The beach comes into view, and I slow my pace, letting my feet sink into the sand. The ocean stretches before me, endless and gray in the early morning light. I stare out at the waves, letting them swallow my thoughts. In these moments of stillness, Dad's absence hits hardest. This is the second birthday he's missed, and it feels like it will never get easier. Grief is a hollow space in my chest, the unspent love that has nowhere to go, it's just a constant ache that reminds me of everything he's missing.