"Nora called," Jay says simply. "Said you were in a bad way after seeing your dad. I figured you'd follow him here." Jay squeezes my shoulder, grounding me. "For what it's worth," he says, voice low and sincere, "I've always thought your dad was a piece of shit. And you've never been anything like him."

I nod mechanically, but the words can't compete with the voice in my head—his voice—telling me I'll never be enough. Never be worthy. And now he's got Jake too, molding my brother into his image while I stand here, drowning in the same old rage that's been my only constant companion.

"Come on," Jay says. "Let's get you back to your girl."

The words slice fresh wounds.

My girl.

The truth settles like lead—she's not mine. She never will be. Not with this anger inside me, this curse running through my veins. I've spent so long trying to be anything but him, and tonight proves what I've always feared: I'm my father's son after all.

And that's exactly why I have to let her go.

72. Blink And Gone

CHAPTER 72

BLINK AND GONE

NORA

My hands tremble as I stare at my phone. Seven missed calls echo like heartbeats in the void.

Each message sits there untouched, a timeline of mounting desperation:

Nora

Where are you?

Please just let me know you're safe.

Nate, you're scaring me.

I’m not letting you do this alone.

Please just answer.

I need to know you're okay.

The phone weighs like grief in my hands as I pace the balcony, fighting tears that threaten to break the dam of my composure. Each step feels like wading through memories of every time I've watched him walk away, my heart a desperate metronome counting seconds of silence. Camilla's approach registers in soft heel-clicks against stone, her presence cutting through the static of my panic.

"Hey," she says, voice gentle as morning light. "What's going on?"

My head shake sends the world tilting. "Nate's gone. He followed Scott out, and I can't—" The words fracture in my throat. "He's not in a good place."

"What happened?" Camilla moves closer, her usual sharp edges softened by concern.

"Scott and Lydia had a fight. Scott lunged at Lydia and—God, you should have seen Nate's face, Camilla." Another call hits voicemail, another crack in my resolve. "He won't answer, he won't⁠⁠—"

"What about Jay?" Camilla's voice cuts through my spiral, practical as always. "He might know where Nate went."

"I don't have his number."

A hint of a smile plays at her lips as she pulls out her phone. "Lucky for you, I do."

I grab her phone, questions about that particular connection filed away for a less urgent moment. Each ring makes my pulse spike.

"Didn't think you'd call so soon," Jay answers, playful tone a jarring contrast to my racing heart.

"Jay, it's Nora." My words tumble out like scattered puzzle pieces. "I need your help. It's Nate."