Before the Morning [BEING EDITED]

03 | Welcome Back, Willow

"Wakey wakey," Greg said.

Nolan groaned and threw his pillow over his face. What time was it? Definitely not eleven, that was for sure.

"Nolan."

He pulled the pillow away and scowled across the room. Greg leaned against the doorway, eyes alight with amusement. "What?" he demanded.

"You have to get up," Greg said. "We're leaving in thirty minutes."

"What? Why?"

"We're picking up Caleb and Sam up from church."

He groaned and fell back in bed, throwing his covers over his head. His presence wasn't even required—it wasn't like two people could drive the car, and, even if they could, Nolan didn't have his permit, let alone his license. Greg was just doing this to irritate him.

"I'm not going," he said.

"Yeah, you are." Greg clapped his hands. "Let's go."

Nolan grumbled out a sigh and forced himself into a sitting position. He glanced at Greg's retreating back. He was tempted to go back to sleep, but when the door closed, he dragged himself out of bed and grabbed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from his bureau.

He was actually able to brush his hair and teeth today. However, he still didn't have time for more than a breakfast bar. He chewed on it glumly in the passenger seat as Greg pulled out of the parking lot and started down the road.

"How's your breakfast?" Greg asked.

"Mm."

"Mm?"

"Mm."

"Alright then. How late did you stay up?"

Nolan glanced at the clock. 10:15. "Four," he said.

"Dude."

"What?"

"Don't 'what' me. Go to bed earlier, you dingus."

"Dingus. Really?"

Greg laughed, and the conversation lulled. Nolan watched trees go by while Greg tapped his hands against the steering wheel to the beat of a pop song playing on the radio. He missed his bed.

He finished off his breakfast bar and tossed the wrapper in the cup holder, which already had some mail set inside. His eyebrows creased. The envelopes were upside down, but he could still see the letters of two words, bold and red: L, E.

FINAL NOTICE.

Nolan's jaw locked. He could grab it. Rip it open so Greg would have to talk about it.

What was it for? Electric? Oil? Insurance?

He wanted to help. Why wouldn't Greg just let him help?

He looked up, ready to confront Greg, but—a sign moseyed by. Welcome to Ann Arbor.

He went rigid. What the actual hell? "This is why you dragged me out here?" he hissed.

"What?"

"You should have just left me at home."

Greg bit his lip. "Nolan..."

He shook his head, refusing to say anymore. Was Greg serious? He hadn't stepped foot in Ann Arbor since the move, and he hadn't planned on ever returning. As they drove through the city, he was reminded why—each familiar street, building, tree—sent a painful pang rippling from his chest, through his body.

There was the intersection where he and Chris made a video about walking the streets at three am.

There was the mom-and-pop grocery store he and his family shopped at a million times, ever since he was little.