She nudges me toward the bathroom. "Now go try that on and let me see how it looks."

When I step out in the bikini, Camilla whistles dramatically.

"Oh, my God! You look insane. Seriously, Nate's going to physically drop dead when he sees you. Not that his opinion matters or anything. But still, he will die."

I laugh, rolling my eyes. "You're ridiculous."

We head back downstairs, Camilla chattering about the party and who's bringing what. As we step outside, she spots Nate pulling up. She leans in, her voice low but firm, "Shoot your shot, girl. Don't wait."

Her words hang in the air, more truth than advice. She's right—waiting for life to hand you the perfect moment is a trap. Because life isn't meant to be lived halfway. You can't half love, half risk, or half believe in yourself. You have to go all in, even if it terrifies you. Especially if it terrifies you. I look down at the bracelet still on my wrist, the one Nate gave me.

Fearless.

I take a deep breath, straighten my shoulders, and step forward, ready to prove I was exactly that.

44. The Rent Is Free In My Head

CHAPTER 44

THE RENT IS FREE IN MY HEAD

NATE

I slip out before sunrise, avoiding Mom and Nora. Last night has left enough wreckage without facing either of them, not while I'm still angry at Mom and lost about Nora. Sonder will be opening soon, and Nick could use the help, so that's where I head. The place has become my escape, and Nick has somehow become someone I trust—a rare occurrence in my life.

He looks up as I enter, surprised but not shocked. "You're early."

"Thought you might need a hand." I nod toward the paint cans.

"Or maybe a distraction," he replies, knowing but casual.

I laugh roughly. Nick never pries, and that's rare in my world. He offers what he can and asks nothing in return.

"If distractions are on the menu, I'm in," I say, grabbing a roller.

He hands me a brush in silence, letting me work in peace.

Finally, he clears his throat. "You holding up all right after… everything?" His words carry more weight than just last night. Nick has seen my scars, the ones left by battles I never chose. He understands—he's been there.

"Yeah," I reply hollowly.

"Nate," he says, voice calm but firm. "It's not my place to ask questions, especially about family. But what I will say is this: pain moves through families until someone's ready to feel it and stop it. When you're born in a burning house, you think the whole worlds on fire. But it's not."

His words cut through the fog in my head. I nod, swallowing hard.