And I know I've pushed too hard, asked too much, crossed a line I had no right to cross.
"Okay," I say quietly.
I put the car in drive and pull back onto the road.
Neither of us speaks for the rest of the drive.
But the silence isn't comfortable anymore.
It's the kind that's full of everything we're not saying.
Everything we're too afraid to say.
When we pull up to the cabins, she's out of the car before I've even turned off the engine.
"Nora, wait—" I say, getting out of the car to go after her, stopping myself in the process.
She pauses but doesn't turn around.
"I appreciate you fixing the heating system. But I think it's better if we just?—"
"Keep our distance?" I finish for her, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
"Yeah."
She goes inside without looking back, and I'm left standing next to the Mustang, staring at her closed door, realizing I've fucked this up in the only way I know how—by being honest, by showing too much of myself, by letting the past breathe when maybe it should've stayed buried.
But as I watch that door close, I can't shake the feeling that she was exactly where she should be in that moment—angry, defensive, finally showing some of that fire I remember.
That old spark that made her dangerous and brilliant and impossible to forget.
This girl is going to kill me, but I'm pretty sure I'd willingly welcome death in her arms.
CHAPTER 24
LIAR LIAR
NORA
Why aren'tyou wearing your engagement ring?
I'm standing at the kitchen counter, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee that's gone lukewarm while I stared out the window, when yesterday's drive with Nate replays in my mind for the hundredth time.
I should be furious with him.
I am furious with him.
Who does he think he is, asking me that? What gives him the right to question my choices, my life that he hasn't been part of by his own doing?
Except he wasn't wrong to ask and that's what's making me spiral.
I take another sip of cold coffee, grimace, and pour it down the sink.
Nothing says "I have my life together" like drinking cold, bitter coffee at 9 AM while spiraling about my life choices.
I make a fresh cup even though I don't need more caffeine. What I need is a lobotomy. Or a time machine. Or possibly just better decision-making skills.
I need something to do with my hands, something to focus onthat isn't the endless loop of thoughts that's been playing since I walked away from him yesterday.
