A soft laugh vibrates through his chest, and he presses the lightest kiss to the tip of my nose.

"I'm glad I found you again."

I blink up at him, still dazed. "What do you mean again?"

His thumb strokes the curve of my cheek, and though his expression is unreadable, his voice—his voice is low and certain, sending shivers down my spine.

"I don't just mean in this lifetime, Leni."

My breath catches in my throat. He looks at me like he sees beyond skin and bone, like he's glimpsing something eternal.

"I mean in every single one before this one."

It's in these unguarded moments, the ones he doesn't even realize he's giving me, that I fall deeper than I ever thought possible.

He pulls me into his arms, holding me against his chest, and the world beyond this closet ceases to exist. Warmth blooms in my chest, steady and sure, like a truth I've always known but am only now understanding. I know with bone-deep certainty, we are two souls who have been finding each other through time and space, lifetime after lifetime.

"I never want to forget this moment," I whisper, my fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the rough scratch of his stubble keeping me tethered to reality.

He stares at me, his perfect lips curving into the kind of smile that will haunt my dreams.

God, I am so in love with you.

It's as if he hears the unspoken thought, because he leans in, his lips brushing mine, our breath mingling, his voice barely above a whisper—raw and reverent.

"I could never forget the second time I fell in love with the first girl I ever loved."

67. Did We Just Become Best Friends?

CHAPTER 67

DID WE JUST BECOME BEST FRIENDS?

NATE

I’ve been buzzing all day from last night's grand opening of Sonder. Things are slowly starting to feel as if they're looking up. That brief surge of optimism fades when I spot Jake at the dock, his back to me, looking out onto the water just like when we were kids. Back then, we'd sit for hours watching the sunset while the sky changed colour, sharing secrets and plans for impossible adventures. Now the ten feet between us might as well be miles.

The dock creaks under my feet. Each step I take now feels like crossing a minefield of memories. His silhouette cuts against the water like shattered glass, all rigid angles in the golden afternoon light. He doesn't turn when I call his name, but I catch the tension rippling through him—shoulders locking, hands curling into fists at his sides. My chest aches with the wrongness of it.

"Jake." I keep my voice steady even as the air between us crackles with unspoken accusations. "Can we talk?"