Before the Morning [BEING EDITED]

38 | You Will

Snow.

Nolan peered up at the light gray sky as the snow tumbled down, smothering the cracked sidewalk with white. He'd never liked snow, not even when his parents were alive. He'd tolerated it, played in it when necessary, but he wasn't one to burst with excitement when the first flakes hit the ground.

Was she the kind of person who ran to the window to catch a glimpse of the first snowfall?

She didn't even look at him at all now. With each day, he watched, helpless, as the light he'd come to adore flickered, threatening to blow out. She was so much like his last year's self—miserable, quiet, avoiding contact with anyone she could. She still laughed and smiled with Erin and the others, but it wasn't the same dynamic laughter that seemed to take over her entire being. It was worn.

I thought getting her out of there was supposed to help, he snapped. I did my part. Why aren't You doing Yours?

Nothing. Just a growing frustration.

He'd helped save her from her dad, but now she was crumbling before his eyes, and there wasn't anything he could do about it. She didn't want his help. And could he blame her?

Help her. Please.

His phone dinged. Could it...?

He snatched his phone from his pocket. His hope fell. Andy.

He opened the text.

Are you okay??????

He pocketed his phone without replying. He wouldn't reply. It didn't matter how much he wanted to. He'd already destroyed Nora's happiness. He wasn't about to interfere with her friendships.

Did you fall and now you can't get up????

His lips twitched. Still, he didn't reply.

Seriously though I'm here for you. Just wanted to make sure you know that

His eyes turned to the sky again. Flakes caught at his lashes as he glared. Why? Why get me attached to these people just so I could lose them?

Of course, nothing.

Then, his voice: "It's only going to make things worse for you."

The anger. The blame. Like Ryan had said—it was stewing inside him, unrelenting, a weight pressing down on his chest every single day. It had been a relief, this past summer, to have his rage cool—to be truly happy again. But now? It was all crashing back. And it was exhausting.

But how was he supposed to move on from this? To forgive and trust? Ryan and Nora said it would take time, but it had already been over two years.

He needed help. But the one person he wanted to ask hated him.

He reached a tired, brick building tucked between two others that looked just like it. Harman's Hardware, scrawled the hanging-sign over the door. He shuffled inside, wiping his feet on the entrance's carpet.

The place was chaotic and organized all at once, with its busy walls and bursting aisles. At the cashier's desk, a man who appeared to be in his thirties looked up from the book he was reading.

"Afternoon!" he said.

"Afternoon," Nolan echoed. He stepped toward the counter, and the man straightened.

"And how can I help you today, son?"

"I spoke to the manager on the phone about filling out an application?"

"Oh, yes!" The man grinned. "Nolan, right?"

He nodded.

The man stretched out a hand. "Craig Burns. Nice to meetcha."