44. The Rent Is Free In My Head
CHAPTER 44
THE RENT IS FREE IN MY HEAD
NATE
I slip out before sunrise, avoiding Mom and Nora. Last night has left enough wreckage without facing either of them, not while I'm still angry at Mom and lost about Nora. Sonder will be opening soon, and Nick could use the help, so that's where I head. The place has become my escape, and Nick has somehow become someone I trust—a rare occurrence in my life.
He looks up as I enter, surprised but not shocked. "You're early."
"Thought you might need a hand." I nod toward the paint cans.
"Or maybe a distraction," he replies, knowing but casual.
I laugh roughly. Nick never pries, and that's rare in my world. He offers what he can and asks nothing in return.
"If distractions are on the menu, I'm in," I say, grabbing a roller.
He hands me a brush in silence, letting me work in peace.
Finally, he clears his throat. "You holding up all right after… everything?" His words carry more weight than just last night. Nick has seen my scars, the ones left by battles I never chose. He understands—he's been there.
"Yeah," I reply hollowly.
"Nate," he says, voice calm but firm. "It's not my place to ask questions, especially about family. But what I will say is this: pain moves through families until someone's ready to feel it and stop it. When you're born in a burning house, you think the whole worlds on fire. But it's not."
His words cut through the fog in my head. I nod, swallowing hard.
"You're right," I mutter, unsure if he knows how much that means. Having someone in your corner without strings feels undeserved, especially after how I spoke to Mom. But I'd hit my breaking point. Seeing Scott again had unleashed every bit of suppressed anger.
My phone buzzes.
"Ol, what's up?" I answer.
"Oh look, he does know how to answer the phone."
"Now you know why I don't answer your calls, wise ass."
"I'm pretending you didn't say that to hurt my feelings. Where have you been?"
"Riding a llama in Neverland. Where do you think?"
He chokes on his drink, and I smile. Ollie's humor has always matched mine.
"Everyone's at Camilla's. Figured you could join me," he says, too casual. "And before you say no, I'm outside."
Nick smirks, nodding toward the window where Ollie waves, grinning.
"You're good here. Go hang out with your friends." Nick says, clasping a hand on my shoulder.
Outside, Ollie leans from the car like an eager puppy. "You look like hell. Lucky for you, I'm the best friend you'll ever have. Packed a bag for you."
I slide in. "You packed a bag for me?"
"Yes, Nathaniel, I did. Just don't get used to it. It's like a one time thing," he smirks.
He pulls onto the road, watching me. "So… how are things? You and your dad still at odds after yesterday?" His tone is casual, but I catch the concern. Ollie reads people better than he lets on.
"What gave it away?" I laugh sharply. Having an abusive prick for a father who acts like God's gift is a cosmic joke.
"Were we at the same party?"
I shrug, turning to the window. It's easier to lie than tell the truth.
"He's got impossible standards, and I don't meet any. I've accepted it." Part of me wants to tell everything, but where to start? It's a short drive with too much to unpack.
Instead, I reach for a safer memory.
"You know, your dad taught me to throw my first ball. Spent hours with me while you guys were at the beach."
Ollie's expression softens. "Yeah, sounds like him. He taught us all something, didn't he?"
"I'm sorry I wasn't there," I say quietly. "I should've been."
He shakes his head. "Hey, that's old news. You were forgiven ages ago."
"Maybe by you, but… I don't know about your sister."
Ollie grins. "Nora? Please. She'd never stay mad at you. She's been in love with you forever."
My chest tightens, heart stumbling. He says it so casually, like common knowledge I've somehow missed. His words rearrange my entire world.
I clear my throat. "What happened last year? With Nora at school?"
"You mean with her useless best friend bailing on her when she needed her most?"
I nod and wait for him to continue.
"She didn't talk about it. Believe me, Mom tried. I tried. But she just shut down completely. Then I heard some guy made a move at a party, and Claire, her best friend, got jealous."
Something sharp twists in my gut. "What do you mean, made a move?"
"From what I heard, he kissed her, and Claire caught the act. Claire was obsessed with this guy and dragged Nora to the party."
My fists clench at the thought of someone touching her let alone kissing her.
"But you know Nora. She's not the random hook-up type. Let alone do that to her friend."
"What was his name?"
"Uh… Eddie? Something with an E."
Cold fury builds in me, wound tight enough to snap.
"Wait, no I think it was Evan. Some lacrosse prick. Definitely not her type." He smirks. "And before you ask, no, I didn't get involved. That's not my thing, and she asked me to stay out of it. Beating people up… that's more your role in her life."
Anger rises from somewhere primal. I don't know what to do with this possessiveness clawing at my chest. The thought of her with someone who doesn't see her like I do makes my blood boil.
We pull up to Camilla's house and Ollie kills the engine.
"Coming in? Or just gonna brood?"
I laugh sharply. "Lead the way."
Even before entering, I feel her. Her laugh carries through the house, wrapping around me. She has different laughs for every emotion, just like songs for every mood. This one tugs at something deep in my core. She's everywhere, woven into every fiber of my existence. No matter how far I drift, there's always this pull drawing me back.
I'm forever ruined when it comes to her. Trying to escape her would be like tearing out a piece of myself.
"The fun has arrived!" Ollie announces, drawing every eye his way—except mine.
I only seek hers. Green and locked on me, like always.
The moment our gazes meet, everything shifts. A spark, a surge of heat straight to my chest. That's how it has always been with us. I can find her in any crowd in a heartbeat. Our eyes connect, and I feel it again—that pull, that silent confession. The kind that makes me believe, in some twisted way, we were meant to find each other. She looks away, but not before I catch the flush in her cheeks, a soft rosy hue I know I put there.
"You're staring," Marcus's voice cuts in, and I realize he's appeared beside me. I have no idea where Ollie has gone, or how long Marcus has been standing there.
"No, I'm not," I mutter, dropping into a lounge chair.
Marcus grins knowingly. "Sure. You'd have to be blind not to see the way you look at her."
"I'm not," I snap.
"Then why are you blushing?" His smirk deepens.
"I don't blush."
"For a pretty boy, you're pretty dumb sometimes."
"Ouch."
"It's cute," he adds smugly. "The way you look at her. Your face lights up. Seriously, a blind man could see it, so don't bother denying it."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Whatever you say, Natey boy." Marcus chuckles, pushing off toward the girls across the pool.
I sit there, feeling her pull all over again. I try to stay put, determined not to stare. But she makes it impossible. The yellow bikini showing through that barely-there cover-up. The way she leans back, and the line of her throat as she sips her drink.
Fuck me.
I'm trapped in my head, frustration clawing at me. The kind that makes you hyper-aware of yourself but clueless about how others see you. Most of my life, I haven't cared how I come across. But with her, everything is different. I've been detached for so long, an observer rather than a participant. Not in some creepy way, more like someone who stands in awe of art.
And she is art. Pure, unfiltered, breathtaking. I can't look away.
My attraction to Nora hasn't hit all at once. It has seeped into my skin, my bones, my soul over years. Slow. Calculated. Relentless.
There's no escape. She owns every piece of me and she doesn't even know it.
And now she's walking straight toward me.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Just like that, I'm seven years old again, pining after the girl who's had a hold on me my entire life.
I sit up, elbows on my knees, legs spread wide on the lounge chair. She stops in front of me, and I catch that citrusy blend of her shampoo and sunscreen. My gaze travels up, taking in every inch of her perfect body wrapped in that barely-there dress.
When our eyes finally meet, I can't tell if either of us is breathing.
"Hi."
"Hi."
I have no idea if anyone's watching.
I don't care. All I see is her.
"You left early this morning," she says.
"I did."
"Why?"
Because I don't know how to handle this.
Because being close to you tears me apart.
Because I want you in every fucking way imaginable.
"You're not going to ignore me now, are you? I thought we were past that."
"Nora—"
"Don't push me away, Nate. Not after everything."
I don't want to push her away. But I also don't want to ruin her. That's what I do—I ruin things. Break them.
"The kiss—" I start, but she cuts me off.
"Was not a mistake, and you know it. So don't bullshit me."
I smell traces of vodka on her breath.
"Have you been drinking?"
"Don't change the subject."
"Maybe you should??—"
"Don't tell me what I should do, Nate. I'm perfectly fine??—"
She stumbles, feet slipping beneath her. My arms move on instinct, catching her waist and steadying her before she falls. She's pressed against me now, hands on my chest, my hands gripping her hips. Heat radiates between us, her body fits against mine like it was made to be there.
Time stops. I'm about to lose my fucking mind holding her like this.
She stares up at me, wide-eyed, and something unspoken passes between us. That silent confession between us screams without words. I feel it in every point where our bodies touch, in the slight tremor of her breath against my neck. I let my hands linger longer than I should, feeling her body melt under my touch. She steps back, creating space, and I immediately regret letting go. The loss of contact feels like physical pain.
"Thanks," she murmurs, voice softer now.
These tiny, electric moments between us—brief, charged bursts that shatter the calm—come when one of us stares too long, smiles too wide, or thinks too hard. Little shocks to remind us not to slip too far. To stay safe. To keep our distance. And fuck, I crave these moments the most.
They're like matches in the dark, brief flares of light that show me everything I want but can't have.
I catch her again before she can fall. One arm loops around her elbow, the other braces her lower back. I pull her close, steadying her, and our bodies press together. Through my shorts, I feel the heat of her skin, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to pull her closer and kiss her right here in front of everyone.
Her sweet, innocent green eyes lift to mine, wide and unguarded. There's trust there I don't deserve, that I shouldn't encourage.
"I got you, Leni," I say, grinning to hide how much this affects me.
Her cheeks flush pink as she clears her throat, gaze flickering to where my hands still grip her hips. I don't move. I should, but I can't make myself let go.
"You're making this a thing," she murmurs.
I laugh softly, the sound drawing out the grin that always comes so easily when she's flustered. "You know I'll never let you fall."
I'm weak when it comes to her. Everything in me is drawn to her, this magnetic pull I can't resist. Don't want to resist, even though I know I should. We stay like that, caught in the moment. Her nails dig into my shoulders, but I don't mind. I feel it in the way her body leans into mine. It's almost primal, this need between us. It scares me how much I want her.
She's panting slightly, and it's adorable that she pretends she's unaffected when our bodies collide. The need I feel for her isn't logical; it's instinctual, coming from a place I don't recognize, a place only she can reach.
If there's one thing I know for sure, it's that Lenora Wells lives in my head rent-free. She's carved out a space in my soul no one else could ever fill.
And that terrifies me more than anything because people like me don't get to keep beautiful things.
We just break them.