For the first time in what feels like forever, I believe it with every fractured piece of my heart.

The car rolls to a stop in the driveway, gravel crunching softly beneath the tires. Nate comes around to open my door, and without a word, I start walking toward the dock by the lake, my feet finding the path like muscle memory. The night air whispers cool against my skin, but it does little to quiet the tempest raging inside me.

I sink onto the edge of the dock, wrapping my arms around my knees as the wood creaks beneath me like old bones. Nate's presence hovers a few steps behind, hesitant as morning fog.

"I can leave," he offers, his voice quiet as falling snow.

"I don't want to be alone right now."

He settles beside me, careful to maintain a small distance, like I might shatter if he gets too close. The lake stretches before us, black as ink and just as willing to swallow secrets.

"What did Evan say to you at the party?" The tension beneath his steady voice rumbles like distant thunder.

"It's not worth repeating," I mutter, staring into the darkness of the water.

"Nora." My name on his lips is soft but insistent as waves against shore. "Please."

I exhale sharply, the sound like glass breaking. The determination burning in his eyes tells me he won't let this go—he's as relentless as the tide.

"He threatened me," I admit, my voice shaking. "With the photos from that night."

Nate stiffens, his hands curling into tight fists. "What?" The word comes out dangerous and low.

"He said if I opened my mouth, if I said anything to anyone, he'd leak them. To everyone back home." I look away, unable to face the fury I know is blazing in his eyes. "I have one more year until I can get out of there. I just want to make it through without any more drama."

His silence stretches longer than thunder, and when he finally speaks, his voice is raw as an open wound. "Fuck, Nora. I wish I'd known."

I flinch at his words, not because they're harsh, but because they drag up a memory I've tried desperately to bury. The reaction doesn't escape his notice—nothing ever does.

"Nora?" His head tilts with careful precision, amber eyes darkening like storm clouds gathering. "What's wrong?"

I stare at my hands, watching them twist together in my lap. The air between us thickens like smoke before fire, heavy with words that taste like ashes.

"Okay," he says, gentler now, like someone approaching a wounded animal. "You've got about twenty seconds to tell me what's on your mind. And please don't lie to me."

A weak smile tugs at my lips. "I never could."

"Then tell me." His words fall between us like stones in still water.