48. DeafBlind?
CHAPTER 48
DEAF OR BLIND?
NATE
I hardly slept last night. The thought of a two-and-a-half-hour car ride alone with Nora made my heart race with a familiar anxiety I couldn't shake. Now, as we pass familiar streets, the silence between us feels comfortable and charged, like the calm before a storm. It's this new dance we've been doing, tiptoeing around feelings neither of us knows how to handle. Or maybe it's just me, overthinking every breath, every glance.
"Would you rather be deaf or blind?" Her question cuts through the quiet, and I feel her eyes on me like a physical touch.
I laugh, grateful for the break in tension. "That's random."
She shrugs, a gesture so quintessentially Nora it makes my chest ache. "Just curious."
"Blind," I answer after considering it.
Her brow furrows, creating that little crease I've memorized a thousand times. "Why?"
I glance at her, letting a hint of a smirk play on my lips. "You see more with your eyes closed."
She turns to the window, but I catch her reflection studying me. The space between us in this car feels impossibly vast and microscopic all at once—like we're trapped in our bubble of unspoken words and missed chances.
The irony of my answer hits me as I steal another look at her. Sunlight dances through her hair, painting it in shades of honey and gold, and I realize how cruel it would be to never see her like this again. She's been a constant presence in my mind for the past year, like a song I can't stop humming, a dream I can't shake off when morning comes.
Because that's what Lenora Wells is—a dream that feels too real, too close, too everything.
"Hey, you okay?" I ask when the silence stretches too thin.
"Yeah," she whispers, still fixed on the passing landscape.
"You sure?"
She hesitates, then turns to me with a question burning in her eyes. "Can I ask you something else?"
"Of course." I keep one hand steady on the wheel, the other gripping the gearshift like an anchor.
She takes a deep breath that seems to pull all the oxygen from the car. "Did you ever think about me? Over the past year, I mean. When we went all those months without speaking. Did you ever…"
Her voice trails off as she fidgets with her bracelet—a nervous habit I've watched her perfect since we were kids.
"You know what, forget about it," she backtracks. "It's stupid and??—"
"Why?" I cut in, keeping my voice carefully neutral even as my pulse thunders.
She frowns. "Why what?"
"Why would you think it's stupid to ask?" I focus on the road ahead, but my mind replays every moment I spent trying to forget her and failing spectacularly. Just like I'm failing at this whole 'just friends' charade I foolishly thought I could maintain.
The silence thickens until it feels like we're swimming in it. She draws a shaky breath, and when she speaks, her voice carries a vulnerability that breaks something in me. "Maybe it's just… being back here with you. The other night, it made me forget about everything else that's happened—all the time we spent apart. I… never mind. Ignore me. I don't know what I'm trying to say."
Her words hang between us like suspended stars, and I grip the wheel tighter, trying to anchor myself to something solid. The confined space of the car suddenly feels electric, charged with everything we've left unsaid. She's close enough to touch, yet the distance we've carefully constructed feels like an ocean.
"There wasn't a day that went by I didn't, Leni." The confession falls from my lips before I can stop it, honest and raw.
She freezes beside me, and when I risk a glance, the look in her eyes threatens to unravel every carefully constructed wall I've built.
"Maybe we tried to forget for a reason," she whispers, but her voice wavers with uncertainty.
"Maybe," I reply, swallowing hard against the truth trying to claw its way out of my chest.
But we both know we never really tried.
The air thrums with anticipation —a tangible energy that matches the rapid beating of my heart. String lights crisscross above us like fallen stars, casting warm shadows that dance across Nora's face. The scent of summer surrounds us: sunscreen, carnival sweets, and that indefinable electricity that comes before something momentous.
"Come on." I reach for her hand, and the moment our fingers intertwine, everything shifts into focus. "We can get closer."
She follows without hesitation as I guide her through the crowd. Bodies move around us like waves, the bass reverberating through the ground and into our bones. The setting sun bleeds across the sky in watercolor strokes of amber and crimson, turning the world golden.
We find our spot near the center, where the energy of the crowd feels most alive. The fading sunlight catches her features, highlighting details I've spent years trying not to memorize—the constellation of freckles across her nose, the flecks of gold in her green eyes, the way her lips curve just slightly upward even when she's lost in thought.
The band starts playing, and she moves with an effortless grace that makes my throat tight. Her body sways to the rhythm, completely lost in the music, free in a way that makes me envious and captivated all at once. She throws her head back, laughing at something, and the sound cuts through the noise straight to my core.
I tell myself to focus on the music, to let it drown out the constant awareness of her presence. Instead, I catalog every detail: how she tucks her hair behind her ear when she's concentrating, the way her shoulder brushes against mine with each movement, how her scent—something fresh and uniquely her—mingles with the summer air.
What the fuck am I doing?
I shouldn't have brought her here, shouldn't have created this moment where everything feels possible and impossible all at once. But when she turns to me, eyes bright with excitement, I can't regret it.
She leans close, her breath warm against my ear. "This is amazing!"
I manage a smile, hoping she can't see how she affects me. "Yeah, it is."
Even surrounded by thousands, she's the only person who feels real.
The band plays on, each song weaving through the crowd like electricity. When they announce their final song— “Hear You Me” —my heart stutters.
Jim Adkins steps up to the mic, his voice carrying over the hushed crowd. "You've been amazing tonight. We've got one last song for you. If you're here with someone special—a friend, a sibling, maybe even someone you love—hold on to them."
The opening chords float through the air, delicate and haunting. Without thinking, my hands find her hips, and she stiffens for just a moment before melting back against my chest. The contact sends electricity through my veins, and suddenly breathing becomes a conscious effort.
The song builds, guitars weaving together in a melody that feels like memory and hope tangled into one. Couples around us sway together, lost in their own worlds. Nora's head falls back against my shoulder, and I hold her like she might disappear if I don't. My fingers press gently into her sides, memorizing this moment, this feeling.
When she looks up at me, everything just fucking stops. Her eyes catch all those colored lights from the stage, turning them into something that hits me right in the chest. That smile—Jesus Christ—the smile she's giving me now isn't the guarded one she uses with everyone else. This one's real and it's aimed straight at me. My heart's slamming against my ribs like it's trying to break free. Like it knows it belongs to her. Always has.
The crowd's pressed in on all sides, bodies crushing together in the heat. Bass thumping so hard I can feel it in my teeth. But it all fades away. It's just her I see. Just us in this bubble where nothing else exists.
We've been dancing around this for so damn long. Years of almost-moments. Years of looking away when caught staring. Years of that electric current between us that we both pretended wasn't there. Years of me telling myself I'm no good for her.
Her chest rises with a sharp breath when my hand finds the small of her back. I'm waiting for her to pull away—to come to her senses and remember all the reasons this is a bad idea. Instead, she leans in. Fuck. I watch her eyes drop to my mouth and linger there. My throat goes dry. Every nerve ending in my body is on fire.
This is it.
The point of no return.
One more step and we blow everything up. Our friendship. Our families. The careful distance I've kept to protect her from the shit-show that is my life.
But I'm done fighting it.
Done pretending I don't want this—want her—more than my next breath.
"Nora," her name comes out like gravel, barely audible over the music.
The kiss happens before I can talk myself out of it—like gravity, like breathing, like finally coming home after being lost my whole fucking life. Her lips meet mine and everything explodes. Sweet and desperate and hungry all at once, not like the kiss from the other night. My hands slide to her hips, fingers digging in like I'm afraid I’ll wake up from a dream I don’t want to wake up from. Her fingers grip my arms, then slide up to the back of my neck, pulling me closer.
We move together like we've done this a thousand times in another life. Like our bodies remember what our minds forgot. Like we've been starving for this exact moment. When we break apart, her eyes are wide, lips parted. Something passes between us—something I don't have words for. Something that feels terrifying and perfect at the same time.
"Nate," she breathes my name like it's something sacred.
And I'm done for.
Completely fucking ruined for anyone else. Then again, I think I always have been because of her.
"Leni," I respond, the nickname falling from my lips as naturally as breathing.
She starts to speak, uncertainty dancing in her expression. "I don't think friends??—"
"Len," I cut her off, unable to stop my grin. "I think we're past the just friends thing."
Her laugh is soft and full of promise. For the first time, I let myself see a future—our future—not as something fragile or fleeting, but as something real and possible.
The crowd begins to disperse as the band plays their final notes. "We should probably head out before it gets crazy," I suggest, though leaving this moment feels impossible.
She nods, and I take her hand, our fingers intertwining as we navigate the crowd. The rain starts suddenly—fat drops that quickly turn into sheets of water. By the time we reach the car, we're soaked and laughing, her giggles mixing with the sound of rain on metal.
"Since when does it rain here in July?" she asks, pushing wet hair from her face.
"It doesn't," I say, watching the windshield blur with water. Traffic ahead is at a standstill. "Traffic's not moving. Maybe we should wait it out."
She gives me a questioning look. "Wait it out where?"
I pull out Nick's spare key, offering a small grin. "Nick's got a place about fifteen minutes from here. He said we could crash there if we needed to. I mean… if you're okay with it."
Her fingers brush mine as she takes the key, the contact sending sparks through my skin. After a moment's consideration, she nods. "Let's do that."
As I drive through the rain-slicked streets, the world outside feels distant and dreamlike. Inside the car, it's just us, the rhythm of rain creating our own private symphony. My hand finds hers over the console, and when she interlaces our fingers, it feels like pieces falling into place.
The rain falls harder as we drive into the night, but for once, I'm not running from anything. I'm running toward everything I've ever wanted.
Toward her.
Toward us.
Toward home.