36. Drowning In Truth
CHAPTER 36
DROWNING IN TRUTH
NORA
The truth about Nate's nightmares hits me like shattered glass, each piece cutting deeper than the last. These things that haunt him, even in daylight, they've always been there, tucked away underneath the surface. My chest constricts as everything clicks into place, years of puzzle pieces finally forming a complete picture. The bruises he'd laugh off, the way he'd flinch when his father's name came up, how he'd pull away if anyone got too close—it wasn't indifference. It was preservation. He's been protecting everyone else—his mom, Jake, even me—while slowly disappearing piece by piece, like a photograph fading in the sun. The realization settles in my bones, heavy and suffocating.
I turn to him, ready to unleash years of bottled anger at the unfairness of it all, but the words die in my throat when our eyes meet.
What I see there steals my breath—not just pain, but exhaustion etched into the lines of his face, years of carrying burdens that were never his to bear. Yet beneath that weight, there's something else: relief, as if sharing this secret has loosened the chains around his heart, even if just for a moment.
"People don't have power over us," I whisper, my voice trembling but sure. "We give that to them."
He stares at me, his expression unreadable, and panic flares in my chest like a match struck in darkness. But then his voice breaks through, soft as a prayer.
"Thank you."
I blink, caught off guard. "For what?"
"For being you." The rawness in his words makes my heart ache.
A shaky laugh escapes me, filled with emotions I'm not ready to name. "I don't know how to be anyone else but me around you."
When I look up, I catch that rare smile—the one that shows his dimples, the one that's been living rent-free in my heart since we were kids. His expression remains serious, but there's something different now, something softer. Like I'm seeing a version of him that's been locked away, waiting for someone to find the right key. I've seen all his jagged edges now—the parts he's buried under years of jokes, anger, and carefully maintained distance. Instead of running, I want to stay. To understand every scar, every shadow, every story written in the spaces between his words.
"I don't think you realize how much you've been doing for everyone else," I say softly, my fingers brushing his, electricity sparking at the contact. "But you don't have to carry it all alone anymore."
He looks down at our hands, and when his eyes meet mine again, the vulnerability there takes my breath away. It's like watching a fortress's walls crumble, revealing something precious and unguarded beneath.
"I never wanted to carry it," he admits, voice barely above a whisper. "I just didn't know how to stop."
His words break my heart and heal it simultaneously. He's forgotten how to let someone else share his burden, but that changes now. I'll be here—not to fight his battles, but to help carry the weight when it threatens to crush him.
"I see you, Nate," I whisper, emotion thick in my throat. "I've always seen you."
"I know."
For the first time in years, there's a glint of light in his eyes that tells me he believes me.
There's a brief moment of silence before his lips quirk into that half-smile that still makes my heart skip. "Do you trust me?"
The question echoes in my chest.
Do I trust him?
Even when I was angry, even when his choices felt like betrayal, I've always trusted Nate Sullivan with everything that matters—including my heart, even when I tried not to.
Before doubt can creep in, I wrap my arms around his waist. His body is solid against mine, warmth seeping through his damp shirt. His heartbeat thuds against my chest, steady and strong, and the closeness makes me dizzy. I feel him react to my touch, his breathing changing, muscles tensing beneath my fingers.
"Keep your eyes on me, Leni," he says, his voice dropping low. My name on his lips sends shivers down my spine.
Then we're falling, the cold water shocking us both. I surface laughing, clinging to him like he's my anchor in a storm.
"You're insane!" I gasp through my laughter.
"You say insane, I say fun." He grins, holding me close.
His eyes drift to my lips, lingering there, and the world narrows to just us—floating in the water, bodies pressed together, breaths mingling in the narrow space between us. Heat builds despite the cool water, and I bite my lip, trying to ignore how badly I want him to close that distance.
The moment stretches, electric and fragile, until he breaks it. "It's getting dark. We should head back."
I nod, even as every cell in my body screams for something else. He lifts me back onto the boat, his hands firm on my waist, leaving ghost prints of warmth on my skin. When I emerge from changing into his old Aerosmith t-shirt, I catch him staring at me like I'm something precious and rare. For the first time in forever, I feel beautiful. Wanted.
The drive home starts in comfortable silence, the kind that hums with possibility. I steal glances at him, watching his fingers drum against the steering wheel, his dark hair still damp and curling slightly at the ends. The muscles in his forearms flex with each turn, defined and strong, reminding me of how those exact arms had wrapped around me in the water, keeping me safe as we plunged beneath the surface. When "High and Dry" by Radiohead plays, followed by "For Me This Is Heaven" by Jimmy Eat World, his jaw relaxes in that familiar way. Memories flood back: summers spent arguing about music on the dock, him teaching me piano with endless patience, those rare smiles that felt like gifts meant just for me.
It was never just a teenage crush, though I tried to convince myself otherwise. The way my heart raced when he entered a room, how time seemed to slow when he smiled—it was deeper, more intense. He's woven into the fabric of who I am, present even when I'm not looking.
"What are you thinking about?" His voice breaks through my reverie.
I smile, studying my hands before meeting his eyes. "Did you know you hum when you're relaxed or happy?"
He laughs, rich and warm. "I do?"
"Yeah," I say softly. "You've been doing it for as long as I can remember."
His brow furrows thoughtfully. "No one's ever pointed that out before."
"Well, maybe you're not relaxed and happy often enough," I tease, truth hiding behind the lightness.
His smile grows, and something in his gaze makes my heart stutter. Snow Patrol's "Open Your Eyes" plays softly in the background, its lyrics threading through the moment like fate. I reach out, brushing his arm with my fingers. When he looks at me, there's something unspoken in his eyes that makes my breath catch.
"Hey," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the music. I love you. God, I fucking love you burns on my tongue, but instead, I say, "I'm really proud of you."
He squeezes my hand, his smile soft and real.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "For not understanding sooner."
"You have nothing to apologize for, Nora. You've always been there, even when you didn't know it."
Our eyes meet again, electricity crackling between us, but his phone buzzes, shattering the moment. He doesn't reach for it, though, just holds my hand tighter as we drive through the night.
Nate drops me off and hesitates, looking down before meeting my eyes. "I, uh… I've got to take care of something."
I don't ask what—I already know. The girlfriend whose texts are lighting up his phone. I swallow hard and force a smile. He gives me one last look, heavy with unspoken words, then walks back to his car.
I don't know where we stand after today, but one truth rings clear: I was eight when I first felt the flutter of love for him, and now it's carved into my bones. No matter how many walls I build or distances I create, he'll always be the person my eyes search for in every crowded room. His name is written in invisible ink across my heart, appearing only when warmed by his presence.
Some loves are choices. Others are gravity—forces of nature we can resist but never truly escape.
And mine?
Mine has always been Nate Sullivan.
As constant as the bass line in our favorite songs, as inevitable as time itself. I've been orbiting him my entire life, and I'm beginning to understand I might never stop.
Because when all the pretending falls away, when all the anger and hurt dissolve, one truth remains, simple and devastating: it has always been, and will always be, Nate.