38. Just Like Old Times
CHAPTER 38
JUST LIKE OLD TIMES
NORA
The moonlight spills across the roof as I climb through the window, each movement deliberate and familiar. I've made this climb a hundred times before, but tonight feels different, heavier somehow, as if the very air knows something's about to change.
Jake sits at the edge of the roof, a silhouette carved against the star-studded sky. His lighter brown hair catches the silvery glow, and for a moment, I see both versions of him—the boy who used to count stars with me and the man he's becoming. The moonlight traces the sharp line of his jaw, the solid breadth of his shoulders pulling against his shirt fabric. My heart stutters, caught between memory and present.
"Hi," I breathe, the word barely disturbing the night's quiet.
He doesn't turn, but I catch the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his head dips in acknowledgment.
"Want some company?" The question hangs between us, fragile as spun glass.
His sigh whispers across the space between us, heavy with unspoken words.
"Sure." It's automatic, like muscle memory, but I'm already moving toward him before he can reconsider. The roof tiles are cool beneath my palms as I settle beside him, close enough to feel his warmth but not quite touching.
"How'd you know I was out here?" The roughness in his voice matches the gravel beneath our feet.
"Hard to forget all the nights we spent up here." I smile softly, memories floating up like autumn leaves. "Plus, this is still your thinking spot."
Silence stretches between us as the lake below ripples silver-black, keeping time with our quiet breaths. Back when we were kids, this silence felt like home. Now it holds the weight of everything we're not saying.
"So, whatcha thinking about?" I nudge his shoulder gently, trying to bridge the gap.
He exhales, long and deep, like he's trying to empty himself of something heavy.
"How the nights we spent out here were some of my happiest memories as kids." The words catch slightly, snagged on something raw.
My chest tightens. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Fine."
"How was your day?" I try again, gentler this time.
"It was good." His jaw tightens slightly. "Yours?"
"It was nice." The truth sits on my tongue like honey, sweet but sticky with complexity.
He turns then, ocean-blue eyes catching moonlight, and something in my chest aches at how familiar and foreign he looks all at once.
"What did you get up to?"
The truth pushes against my teeth. "Nate wanted to take the boat out on the water." Heat creeps up my neck, and I swallow the almost-kiss that still burns on my lips. "What about you?"
Jake's expression shifts, shadows deepening around his mouth. "I saw my dad."
The words hit like ice water. Scott's presence in town sets off warning bells, Nate's stories echoing in my mind like ghost stories.
"Your dad?" My voice wavers, uncertain.
"He wanted to see me for my birthday." Jake's words trail off like smoke. "He, uhh… he offered me a position at the company next year."
My heart races, torn between loyalty to Nate's warnings and Jake's obvious need for connection. "Are you considering it?"
"It's a good opportunity." Defensiveness edges his voice like thorns. "I'd be stupid not to consider it."
"But what about Duke and the scholarship?" The words tumble out before I can catch them.
"I'm not aiming for an Olympic gold medal, Nor, and I was going to study business anyway. This is a chance to make something of myself." There's an edge to his voice that wasn't there before, sharp with determination or desperation—I can't tell which.
"But working for your dad… is that really what you want?"
"You sound like Nate." The words slice through the air between us. I flinch, and his expression softens immediately. "Sorry, it's just??—"
"It's okay," I cut in, though the air thrums with tension. "I just want to make sure it's your choice."
His gaze softens, vulnerability bleeding through. "It's a big opportunity. I never considered it before because I thought Nate would be the first choice… but Dad thinks I'm better suited to one day take over the family business."
The weight of Nate's secrets presses against my chest, but I swallow them back. Instead, I reach behind me, pulling out my peace offering.
"I have something for you." I present the small scrapbook, our memories bound in paper and ink. "Happy birthday."
His fingers trace the pages reverently, a genuine smile breaking through like sunrise.
"This is amazing," he murmurs, voice warm with appreciation.
I rest my head against his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of him. "We'll always have these memories."
He leans into me, and for a moment, we're kids again, safe in our rooftop sanctuary, where the world can't touch us.
Mom's voice drifts up, breaking the spell. Jake chuckles softly, his arm brushing mine as we stand.
"Guess we'd better head down," he says, smiling gently.
"Yeah," I reply, but part of me stays behind, tangled in the space between who we were and who we're becoming.