"He threatened me," I admit, my voice shaking. "With the photos from that night."
Nate stiffens, his hands curling into tight fists. "What?" The word comes out dangerous and low.
"He said if I opened my mouth, if I said anything to anyone, he'd leak them. To everyone back home." I look away, unable to face the fury I know is blazing in his eyes. "I have one more year until I can get out of there. I just want to make it through without any more drama."
His silence stretches longer than thunder, and when he finally speaks, his voice is raw as an open wound. "Fuck, Nora. I wish I'd known."
I flinch at his words, not because they're harsh, but because they drag up a memory I've tried desperately to bury. The reaction doesn't escape his notice—nothing ever does.
"Nora?" His head tilts with careful precision, amber eyes darkening like storm clouds gathering. "What's wrong?"
I stare at my hands, watching them twist together in my lap. The air between us thickens like smoke before fire, heavy with words that taste like ashes.
"Okay," he says, gentler now, like someone approaching a wounded animal. "You've got about twenty seconds to tell me what's on your mind. And please don't lie to me."
A weak smile tugs at my lips. "I never could."
"Then tell me." His words fall between us like stones in still water.
When I remain silent, he moves closer. His hand finds my chin, tilting it up with a gentleness that breaks something inside me. The intensity in his eyes steals my breath like a plunge into winter water.
"Hey, Leni." The nickname falls from his lips.
He searches my face like reading a map to buried treasure, and I know I can't keep this secret any longer—it burns in my throat.
"I did," I whisper, avoiding eye contact.
His brows furrow, creating valleys of concern. "You did what?"
"Call you. To tell you.” The admission hangs in the air like mist over the lake. "The night it happened."
His hand drops from my chin as if burned, confusion shadowing his face like clouds across moonlight. "You… you did?"
"I didn't know who else to call," I continue, each word like glass in my mouth. "Jake was at training camp. I couldn't call my parents. Ollie would've told them. So, I called you."
Nate freezes beside me, becoming still as stone. His silence fills the space between us with unspoken regret as realization dawns in his eyes like a cruel sun.
"I don't…" He shakes his head like trying to clear fog. "I don't remember."
"I know." My laugh comes out bitter and broken. "Farrah answered."
He flinches as if struck, and I watch something break inside him like ice cracking on a frozen lake.
"She told me I should call someone who cared." I continue, unable to stop now that the dam has broken. "Because apparently you were too high to care about anyone that night."
"Nora…"
"I shouldn't have called you." My voice cracks like thin ice, betraying my weakness. "But I didn't have anyone else."
He buries his face in his hands like trying to hide from the truth, his breathing rapid and shallow. "I—I'm so sorry."
"Nate—"
"No, don't," he cuts me off, voice raw. "I should've been there for you. And I wasn't."
"There's nothing you could have done anyway. You were thousands of miles away, it's not like??—"
"I should have been there for you, Nora," he interrupts, self-loathing thick in his voice. He stands abruptly, running hands through his hair like he's trying to pull the memories out by force, pacing in circles like a caged animal. "Instead, I was too busy getting fucking high."
