Someone Like You

Chapter Twenty-One

Brea

Nathan and I spend the day cleaning and preparing the small little flat for me to move in. Sweat slides down the back of my neck as we push against the lounge. We have been at it all day yesterday, and all day today.

We are finally finished. Almost, anyway. It's been an incredible distraction from my thoughts. I've honestly been too busy to even think about Zander, but as I stop and turn, admiring our hard work, thoughts of him slowly start creeping back in. Swallowing, I push the thoughts of him to the back of my mind, too exhausted to think about him right now.

"It looks good," Nathan says, wiping his forearm across his forehead, then placing his hands on his hips.

"Yeah." I agree, letting my eyes travel around the small space. It is cosy, but now that it is clean and filled with my things, it feels a lot nicer than it did when I first stepped into it. "Did you see this?"

"See what?"

Inclining my head towards the bedroom, I lead him into it. Going over to the bedside table, I pick up the frame and hand it to him. It's a photo of Nathan and I bareback on one of dad's horses. He is standing beside the horse, his hand on its neck. Nathan is squinting toward the camera, and I'm missing my two front teeth as I beam at mum. She isn't in the photo, but I remember she was the one to take it.

"Where did you get this?" Nathan asks.

"I took it," I say. "I had it in my room, and when we packed up and left, I took it with me."

Nathan runs his finger down the photo for a moment, looking lost in thought, before handing it back to me.

"When I think back to all of us being a family, I wonder if I imagined the entire thing," he says softly.

"Me too," I murmur. "I can't believe she packed up her life and just left like that."

"And took her favourite kid."

Ice prickles my skin. "That's not what happened."

"Yeah. It is."

"It is probably because I am a girl," I reply, twisting my fingers together. "Maybe she thought bringing me was easier."

"No," Nathan sighs, turning his cap over in his hands before shoving it onto his head. "She didn't take me because I'm messed up like her."

"Messed up?" I question with a frown.

Nathan taps his head. "Too much like her. Broken."

I stiffen a little. Nathan has never spoken like this or acknowledged anything to do with his mental health before.

"You're not broken, Nathan."

"I'm not right, Brea." He says, refusing to meet my gaze. "What goes on in here," he continues, hitting his head roughly. "It's not normal."

"What even is normal, Nathan?" I ask. "Everyone's normal is different to someone else's."

"If you say so."

"Bipolar," I say. "You have bipolar, don't you?"

He offers me a tight-lipped smile. "How'd you guess?"

"Because mum had it, too," I whisper. "Didn't she?"

Nathan nods slowly. "Yep. She sure did."

Blowing out a breath, I nod. "I'm sorry that she was never around to support you. And neither was I."

"You hardly had a choice in the matter."

"Still. I'm sorry."

"Me too," he replies his voice a little hoarse.