I storm toward the beach, party noise fading into the rhythm of waves. In the distance, I spot Nora, her posture heavy with whatever weight she's carrying.

I freeze.

Let her go, Nate. She doesn't need you fucking up her life more than you already have.

I've repeated that a hundred times, yet I still can't walk away.

Then I see Connor following her, something predatory in his easy stride. My stomach turns.

I move without thinking, staying hidden but drawn forward by something I can't fight. Nora's voice drifts over, soft and placating, followed by Connor's darker tones and a laugh that chills my blood. I see them clearly now.

Nora tries to step back, but Connor's hand snakes around her waist, pulling her close. Her body goes rigid, panic in her eyes, then his lips press against hers.

I snap.

And all I see is red.

8. Breathe In, Breathe Out

CHAPTER 8

BREATHE IN, BREATHE OUT

NORA

I take another sip of water, courtesy of Nate earlier. The cool liquid does little to wash away the bitter taste of being caught between Connor and Nate’s egos.

"So, what's the story with you and Sullivan?" Connor's curiosity has an edge to it, predatory almost. "He's been glaring holes into my back all night. Looks about ready to go for my throat."

"There's no story. He's just... being Nate." My voice wavers just enough to betray me, and I curse my inability to lie convincingly.

Connor's smirk deepens as he closes the distance between us. "Here's to bad decisions then." The way he tips back his beer feels like a countdown to something I desperately want to avoid.

"Actually, I'm feeling a bit dizzy. Need some fresh air." The excuse sounds weak even to my ears.

"You're already outside," he laughs, the sound laced with something that makes my skin crawl.

"It's too loud here," I stumble back, seeking escape. "I'm just going to⁠⁠—"

I don't finish. Instead, I flee into the darkness, each step away from Connor easing the vice grip around my lungs. The party's chaos fades behind me as I make my way to the shoreline, where my heels sink into cool, wet sand. I slip off my shoes, letting the damp grains soothe my feet.

The ocean stretches before me, a vast darkness under a star-scattered sky. My chest aches with longing for simpler comforts: worn pajamas, a soft blanket, the familiar comfort of my favorite movies. I close my eyes, breathe in the salty air and listen as the waves create their endless rhythm.

"Hey, Dad," I whisper to the moon, its gentle light a poor substitute for his presence. "I miss you. I'm sorry it's been a while." The words feel foolish, yet they're the only bridge I have to him now. Grief is relentless. It comes in waves and the one person who could help me navigate these feelings is the very one who is gone.