The silence between us is heavy.
“Jesus, Connor,” I whisper.“I’m so sorry.”
He nods, blinking fast.“I know that doesn’t excuse what I did last summer, but—” He runs a hand through his hair, voice breaking.“I was angry.At the world, at myself.I became the kind of guy I swore I’d never be.I became the kind of guy who hurt my sister.And I hate that.I hate who I was.”His voice trembles.“I’m sorry, Nora.For all of it.”
The apology hangs in the air, fragile and real.
He’s not the guy I remember.Not the smirking, careless flirt.This is someone broken but trying.I reach across the counter, placing my hand over his and he almost flinches at the touch.
“I’m really sorry about your sister, Connor,” I say softly.“And for what it’s worth, I forgive you.”
He looks up, startled.His expression cracks—something raw and grateful flickering across it.
“I do believe there’s good in you,” I add.“You just need to start believing that too.Tonight was a pretty good start.”
He nods slowly, voice barely above a whisper.“Thank you.”
Upstairs, Nate is curled on his side, breathing steady now.I slip into bed beside him, wrapping my arms around him from behind.He’s warm again which means he’s still alive.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep and shame.
I press a kiss to his shoulder.
“I know you are.”
The next morning, dawn seeps through the curtains.Connor drives us back to Jay’s, quiet and careful.Nick’s already waiting outside when we pull up, eyes shadowed, worry carved into his face.
He doesn’t say anything—just helps Jay get Nate inside.They decide to stay with him, just in case and I don’t argue.
I know Nate won’t be leaving that bed anytime soon.
Nobody knowswhat to do when a young person dies.The world stops, but it also keeps spinning, cruelly indifferent.At the chapel, I sit between Mom and Ollie, Mia beside him.Jake’s casket gleams at the front, surrounded by white lilies.
Scott sits in the front row, not beside Lydia.
Rage burns hot in my chest at the audacity of this man.If he hadn’t dragged Jake into his own vendetta against Nate, none of this would’ve happened.
There’s an empty seat beside Lydia—Nate’s seat.
When Ollie stands to speak, his voice trembles but doesn’t break.
“Jake was the kind of person who made you believe in magic,” he says.“The real kind—the kind that happens when someone cares enough to make you believe you can conquer anything.”
People laugh softly when he mentions Jake’s awful pancakes, his useless trivia, the way he could brighten a room simply by existing.
“He believed in second chances,” Ollie continues, his voice splintering.“He’d want us to remember that love isn’t about the good times.It’s about showing up when everything falls apart.”
Then his eyes find mine—steady, knowing, hurting.
“He’d want us to hold on,” he says.“Even when it hurts.”
The service ends and people drift out, murmuring condolences that dissolve into the air as they go.By the time I’m standing at his grave, the sun is sinking low, washing the cemetery in gold that feels too beautiful for today.I kneel, press my fingertips to the freshly turned earth that shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t have his name above it.
“I love you, Jake,” I whisper.“I’m so sorry.For all the things you won’t get to finish and for all the things I didn’t say.”
A breath catches in my chest, sharp and painful.
“But I promise—I’ll carry you with me.Even into the parts of my life you won’t get to see.”
