10. Never Drinking Again
CHAPTER 10
NEVER DRINKING AGAIN
NORA
PRESENT DAY
I look like a disaster. Feel like one, too. My head's pounding like a drumline, and my body feels like it's been steamrolled. The reflection staring back at me is a stranger. The echoes of last night crash into me—the sharp snap of flesh hitting flesh, the dark fury in Nate's eyes, the blood. Seeing him like that, consumed by darkness, was like peering into a chasm ready to swallow us whole. Part of me was pissed he treated me like some damsel in distress, but a bigger part was grateful he stepped in before Connor could go further.
Connor.
My chest tightens at the memory. That suffocating paralysis when he grabbed me returns full force—his touch burning my skin, his breath hiss by my ear. Those predatory eyes stripped away my sense of safety, leaving an indelible mark. The room shrinks around me, my breathing shallow and ragged. I'm caught in a web of panic, each thought tangling tighter.
Breathe, Nora.
You're okay. He can't hurt you.
But the words feel hollow. Connor's presence lingers in every shadow, woven into my nightmares. Yet despite this rocky summer kick-off, I refuse to let him steal what's left of it because I've survived worse.
Passing Nate's room with the door wide open, his bed remains untouched. The thought of him out there somewhere, maybe with Farrah, his bloodied hand still messed up, twists my stomach. He made it clear it wasn't my concern but that only makes it worse.
"Well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence," Ollie quips, his smirk wide and annoying. Before I can react, Jake smacks him upside the head.
"What was that for?" Ollie rubs his head, scowling.
Jake grins, all charm. "Because you snore so fucking loud and kept me up for half the night. Seriously, someone from Argentina could probably hear how loud you snore." He hands me a glass of orange juice, his eyes searching mine. "How'd you sleep?"
"Pretty good," I lie, forcing down a sip.
The nightmares are relentless, but who's counting?
"Good," Jake nods, then suddenly says, "We're leaving in five minutes."
"Five—" I start, but Lydia sweeps in, her presence filling the room with maternal energy.
"Oh good, you're all up. How was last night?" Her keen eyes scan us, reading between unspoken lines.
"It was—" Jake begins.
"Utterly boring," Ollie interrupts, earning a sharp glance. "For real, if I knew it was going to be that lame, I'd have stayed in bed and caught up on my beauty sleep.”
"Beauty sleep?" Jake scoffs. "It's gonna take more than sleep to fix what's going on with your face, sunshine."
Lydia waves off their banter. "Well, I'm just glad everyone's in one piece. And Nate? Is he home?"
Jake's expression tightens. "He stayed at Farrah's. They're hitting the beach today he said."
The idea of Nate with Farrah constricts something in my chest.
I shouldn't care. But sometimes the truth cuts deeper than lies. Expecting everything to snap back to normal was pure fantasy.
Jake leans in close, his voice low and tinged with excitement. "You now have three minutes to get ready. Got a big day planned."
I arch an eyebrow. "Why the mystery?"
His grin is infectious, a sly smile that promises adventure. "It's no fun without a little mystery. Two minutes now."
"What am I getting myself into?"
"Today is the official start of our summer." His expression feigns innocence, but anticipation sparkles in his eyes. "No hang-ups, no dramas."
My lips curve despite themselves. Leave it to Jake to flip the script. “Alright, alright. I'm going.”
Lydia catches our exchange. "Where are you two off to?"
"We're heading out," Jake responds casually.
"What!? You're both ditching me too?" Ollie's head snaps up from the second bowl of cereal he poured himself.
"Sorry man. I'll make it up to you when I get back."
"Jake, before you go—" Lydia starts, and his shoulders slump slightly. "Could you swing by Antonio’s garage later? My car needs picking up around one. I asked your brother, but??—"
"I've got it," Jake jumps in and Lydia's face brightens with relief.
"I can drop you off, Lyds. Seeing as no one else seems to want to hang with me."
"Ohh, Buck, you know I'll always hang with you." Lydia kisses Ollie's head and his cheek fluster like they have ever since he was a kid.
Jake’s mystery morning starts off at the one place he knew I couldn't wait to visit. Stepping into Gracie's Bookstore feels like coming home. The air is thick with aged paper and polished wood, each creaky floorboard a familiar friend. Towering shelves whisper stories beneath flickering vintage lamps that cast everything in honey-gold. The massive emerald armchair still beckons from its corner, beside Alfie's perpetually cluttered mahogany desk.
Jake trails behind me, his fingers brushing against book spines as we walk. "Still smells exactly the same," he murmurs.
I know exactly what he means. This place exists outside of time, somehow both ancient and eternally new.
A new face greets us from behind the counter—older, laid-back in a worn white tee and plaid shirt, sorting through a stack of leather-bound classics. His movements are careful, reverent almost, as he handles each volume. He looks up at the sound of the bell, warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Hi there, I’m Nick. Can I help you find anything?"
There's something endearing about his enthusiasm, and the way his hands gesture toward the special collection section. Jake and I exchange a knowing look—we've spent countless hours in that very corner.
"Is that Miss Lenora Wells?" Alfie's warm voice cuts through my thoughts, drawing an instant smile.
"Alfie!" The hug feels like sanctuary, but as I step back, change writes itself across his features. Silver threads his once-dark hair, and those kind eyes behind round spectacles seem dimmer, though they still sparkle with gentle humor. The slight tremor in his hands stirs worry in my chest—perhaps why he’s hired help.
"How's my favorite customer?" Alfie asks, voice soft with memory. His eyes drift to Jake. "And her faithful reading companion, of course."
"You say that to all your customers," I tease, trying to ignore the way my chest tightens at the familiar exchange.
"Only the ones I actually like," he winks, then softens. "I heard about your father, Nora. I'm terribly sorry. He was a fine man."
The sympathy in his eyes is genuine but stirs carefully managed grief.
Nick clears his throat gently, a welcome interruption. "Uncle Alfie has been telling me stories about you two practically living here every summer," he says, gesturing between Jake and me. "Something about a secret reading club in the back corner?"
A surprised laugh escapes me. "The Midnight Readers Society," I confirm, catching Jake's eye. "Though it was hardly midnight. More like closing time."
"And hardly secret," Alfie adds with a knowing smile. "Not with all the candy wrappers you left behind."
"That was entirely Jake's fault," I protest, the memory warming me from the inside out.
Alfie's eyes twinkle. "I see you've met my nephew, Nick. He'll be with us through the summer. Hopefully longer." His tone carries a weight of expectation.
Nick gives a noncommittal shrug, but there's a hint of fondness in his expression. "We'll see, Uncle. Still got some things to figure out."
Alfie turns to Jake, who's been quietly observing our exchange with that half-smile of his. "And you, young man, better be taking good care of Nora here."
"I try, sir," Jake responds, his tone light but his eyes serious. "But she can be a handful."
The familiar warmth of the bookstore, the presence of people who care, it wraps around me like well-worn pages. Here, the weight lifts, if only briefly. Nick's presence adds something new to the familiar scene, like a fresh chapter in a beloved book.
"What's caught your eye lately?" Alfie asks, genuinely curious as always. He settles into his chair, a sign that we're in for one of his famous book talks.
" The Fault in Our Stars, " I respond, continuing without prompting. “I like the books without fairy-tale endings.” I take a look around the store, admiring my surroundings. “They’re nice reminders of how temporary all this really is."
His smile illuminates the room. "That's quite a mature insight. Come, let me show you some limited editions we just got in."
I follow Alfie down one of the aisles and that vintage book scent wraps around me, making me feel more at home than anywhere else.
"It's really good to see you, Alfie," I manage, voice catching.
"Well, you were missed last summer," he replies, patting my shoulder. His eyes hold a mix of sadness and understanding. "I've had my share of losses too. Lost my Gracie years back. But she's still here. In every story, every book I touch."
"Do you believe in soulmates, Alfie?" The question slips out without a second thought.
He smiles wistfully. "I do. But soulmates aren't just lovers. They're friends, family. The connections that shape us, help us heal. Gracie reminded me of that often."
We spend the morning trading stories with Nick, soaking in Alfie's casual wisdom.
"Remember when Alfie claimed he hung out with Stephen King?" Jake grins.
Nick's eyes widen. "You never told me that, Uncle.”
Alfie laughs. "Well, 'met' might be stretching it. Saw him at a signing. Makes for a better story though, doesn't it?"
As we browse the aisles later, Jake pulls out a battered edition of The Secret Garden.
"Remember that summer we tried making our own secret garden with Ollie and Nate?" he asks, nostalgia coloring his voice.
I laugh. "Yeah, until Mrs. Lowell's dog literally shat all over it."
He flips through pages, golden-chestnut hair falling just right across his forehead, those ridiculous eyelashes making him look like an indie film lead. "You were quite the hit at the party last night," I tease.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, every girl there was practically gawking at you."
He laughs genuinely. "Gawking, really? Who uses that word?"
"Just calling it like I see it."
He leans close, mock-serious. "Someone's keeping a pretty close eye on me."
I roll my eyes, fighting a smile. "Just an observation."
"Is that jealousy I detect?"
"Jealous? Of what?"
"You said it, not me," he smirks.
His teasing infuriates and comforts me in that uniquely Jake way, proof some things never change.
Stepping into the bright street with my new book pressing against my chest feels like an anchor.
"So, where to?" I ask, already knowing.
"You know where."
"Corrigan's?"
"Bingo. If we hurry, we'll beat the rush for Cinnabons."
His hand finds mine, and suddenly we're running-laughing down the sidewalk, grief falling away like shed layers. In these moments with Jake, I'm just Nora again.
The bakery envelops us in warmth and spice. Jake orders our usual, and we claim our spot by the window, sunlight pooling on worn wood.
"I've been thinking," he starts, fidgeting with a napkin. "We should make a summer list."
"A summer list?"
"Yeah, all the things we want to do. Things we want to revisit.” His voice carries determination, a promise to reclaim joy after everything that's changed.
"I love that."
He grabs a pen. "Sixteen things each. One for every summer. And the seventeenth? We'll keep secret until we do it."
"Deal."
We write and laugh until we lose track of time. Jake's phone interrupts the fun and his face falls while checking it. "Ah, shit. Mom's car."
"Go," I urge, masking disappointment. "I'll stay and read."
"You sure?"
"Positive. See you at home."
He ruffles my hair before dashing out, that familiar gesture sending warmth through me. Alone with my list, the pen feels heavy, but my heart is lighter.
This summer, despite everything, we'd make it count.
Before I can escape into my book, two figures approach. The girl catches my attention immediately—vibrant orange and pink outfit flowing perfectly, long black hair framing striking features. Her companion rocks a retro yellow bomber covered in patches, platinum buzz cut stark against deep skin, carrying quiet confidence.
"Oh, my God, hey!" The girl's voice carries. "You're Nora, right? From the party?"
I nod cautiously. "Yeah. How did you??—?"
"Everyone there knows who you are now."
Great. So much for staying invisible.
"I'm Camilla,” she beams, claiming the seat across from me. "And this is Marcus."
Marcus nods, grinning as he takes Jake's vacant spot. "Just an FYI, Camilla has no filter or personal boundaries. But it's nice to meet you."
I smile despite myself. "Likewise. I think."
His laugh is warm. "Well, you definitely made the night interesting."
"Glad someone enjoyed the show."
"So, what's your plan for tonight?" Camilla asks, radiating energy.
"Tonight?"
Is this stranger I met less than twenty seconds ago really asking what my plans are tonight?
"Yeah, there's going to be a bonfire at East End Beach. You should come."
Yes, yes, she is.
"Do you always invite strangers to things?"
"Told you, no filter or personal boundaries," Marcus whispers, nudging my arm.
"Only the interesting ones," Camilla grins, a confident sparkle in her eyes. "We'll pick you up on our way through. It'll be fun."
I hesitate, my fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of the summer list peeking out from my notebook. The whole point was to push myself beyond these comfortable walls I've built. To say yes when every instinct screams no. The paper might as well be glowing, challenging me directly.
"Uhh, yeah," I finally manage, swallowing down the anxiety rising in my throat. "Yeah sure, why not?" The words feel foreign on my tongue, but somehow right.
Camilla claps excitedly, her bracelets jingling with the movement. "It's settled. Give me your phone so you can text me your address."
She punches in her digits and hands me back the phone.
"I think this is the start of a really amazing friendship, girlfriend."
"We'll see you tonight at seven!" Camilla yells as she walks toward the front door.
As they leave, I glance at my blank seventeenth item. Maybe it's a placeholder for unexpected adventures. This summer might just be one for the books after all.