Chapter Twenty two

Sunday mornings in the Elsher house had always been slower.

There was no rush for school.

No frantic search for missing shoes.

No alarm clocks screaming from bedrooms.

Even Micah, who usually woke early because of his hospital schedule, allowed himself the luxury of sleeping in.

Sarah believed Sunday breakfast was sacred.

It was the one meal she insisted everyone eat together.

By nine o'clock, the kitchen smelled of fried eggs, sausages, toast, and coffee.

Nate was already seated at the table when Max walked in.

Max stopped briefly.

For half a second, the awkwardness from yesterday returned.

Then he remembered what Nate had told him at the lake.

You don't have to avoid me.

So he didn't.

"Morning."

Nate looked up from his phone.

"Morning."

Max pulled out the chair opposite him.

Sarah placed a plate in front of him.

"Eat."

"I'm eating."

"You've been staring at the food for thirty seconds."

"I'm thinking."

"About?"

"Nothing."

Nate smiled.

"That's dangerous."

Max rolled his eyes.

"You're starting to sound like me."

"God forbid."

Sarah laughed from the stove.

"Both of you sound exactly alike."

Micah wandered into the kitchen moments later, hair disheveled and eyes half closed.

"Why is everyone so loud?"

"Good morning to you too," Sarah said.

Micah dropped into the chair beside Nate.

"I wasn't speaking to anyone."

"You literally just spoke."

"I regret it."

Breakfast continued peacefully for several minutes.

Then Max looked across the table.

"Nate?"

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Nate glanced at him.

"Sure."

Max hesitated.

"About Eric."

The room seemed to change.

Not dramatically.

But enough.

Micah stopped reaching for the coffee pot.

Sarah's eyes flicked briefly toward Nate.

Nate lowered his fork.

"What about him?"

Max shrugged.

"You never really talk about him."

"There's not much to say."

"You loved him."

Nate's jaw tightened slightly.

"Yeah."

"So..."

Max looked down at his plate.

"What happened?"

Silence.

Nate leaned back in his chair.

For a moment, Max thought he'd refuse.

Instead, Nate exhaled.

"He cheated."

Max nodded.

"I know that part."

"No, you don't."

Nate's voice was quieter now.

"You know the fact."

"Not what it did to me."

Max looked at him.

Nate stared down at his coffee.

"I met Eric when I was nineteen. I was in my second year, He was studying business. He was confident, funny, annoyingly charming."

Max smiled faintly. "Sounds like trouble."

"He was."

Nate smiled despite himself.

"For a long time, I thought that was what made him exciting."

He paused.

"Then he became home."

Max's expression softened.

Nate continued.

"We were together for almost five years."

"Five years?"

"Yeah."

"That's a long time."

"It was."

"We grew up together."

"I changed, he changed, life changed. But I always thought..."

Nate swallowed.

"...we'd change in the same direction."

Max remained completely still.

Nate had never spoken about Eric like this.

Not to him.

Not to anyone in the house.

Maybe not even to himself.

"I built my future around him. I chose my residency plans thinking about where we'd live. I imagined what our apartment would look like. I imagined coming home after a twelve-hour shift and finding him there."

He laughed quietly.

"It sounds ridiculous now."

"It doesn't."

Nate looked at him.

"No?"

"No."

Max shook his head.

"If you loved him, why would it be ridiculous?"

Something in Nate's expression broke.

Not completely.

Just enough.

"I really did love him. I loved him so much that I didn't see what was happening."

He stared at the table.

"There were signs... Little things, messages he'd hide, plans that suddenly changed, long nights where he wouldn't answer calls. I convinced myself I was being paranoid because the alternative..."

His voice cracked.

"The alternative meant admitting that the person I trusted most was lying to me."

Max said nothing.

He simply listened.

Nate appreciated that.

"Then... I came home early."

He paused.

"I wasn't supposed to be home."

"I opened the door and there he was." Nate's eyes closed. ”With someone else."

The kitchen was completely silent.

Max's hand tightened around his fork.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing."

Nate laughed bitterly.

"That's the strange part. I just stood there, I couldn't understand what I was seeing. He looked at me, I looked at him and suddenly five years went down the drain."

Max's chest tightened.

"Did he apologize?"

"Eventually."

"Did you forgive him?"

"No."

Nate shook his head.

"I wanted to... God, I wanted to.. But I couldn't because every time I looked at him, I saw that moment."

Max lowered his eyes.

"That must have hurt."

"It did."

Nate looked toward the window.

"But the worst part wasn't even the cheating."

"What was?"

"Realizing that while I was planning a future... He had already started living a different one."

Max didn't know what to say.

Nate continued.

"I'd spent years thinking Eric was the person I'd grow old with... Then suddenly I was twenty-four... About to graduate and completely alone."

"You aren't alone."

Nate looked at him.

"Not now."

He gave a small smile.

"You're right."

"I had Micah, Sarah and..."

He looked around the kitchen and at Max.

"...You.,, But back then?"

He shook his head.

"I felt like someone had taken the entire map of my life and torn it into pieces."

Max watched him quietly.

"That's why you started drinking?"

Nate gave a humorless laugh.

"Partly... I was angry, I was embarrassed, I was heartbroken and I hated that I was heartbroken because I thought I should've known better."

Max frowned.

"Why?"

"Because I'm supposed to be smart. I've spent years learning how the human body works and somehow... I couldn't understand the person standing beside me."

Max shook his head.

"That's not stupidity."

Nate looked at him.

"No."

"It's just trusting someone."

Nate's eyes softened.

"Yeah."

Max pushed his plate away.

"Do you still love him?"

The question landed differently.

Nate didn't answer immediately.

He looked at the coffee in his hands.

"I don't know. I think..."

He took a breath.

"I love the person I thought he was but I don't know if I love the person he actually became."

Max nodded slowly.

"That's probably the hardest part."

"It is."

Nate's voice became quieter.

"Because you don't just lose him, you lost the future you imagined with him."

Max understood that more than Nate knew.

Not because he had experienced romantic heartbreak.

But because grief had taught him something similar.

When Simon died, Max hadn't simply lost his father.

He had lost every future moment he'd assumed would happen.

Graduation.

Driving lessons.

His first serious relationship.

College.

The day he'd eventually introduce his own children to their grandfather.

All of it disappeared in a single accident.

"You know what Dad used to say?"

Max asked.

Nate looked up.

"What?"

"That grief wasn't just missing someone. He said sometimes you grieved things that never happened."

Nate stared at him.

Then slowly nodded.

"Your dad was a smart man."

"Yeah."

Max looked down at his plate.

"I think maybe that's what you're grieving... The life you thought you'd have."

Nate's eyes became glassy.

"Maybe."

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then Nate reached across the table and stole one of Max's sausages.

Max stared at him.

"Seriously?"

"I've just shared my deepest emotional trauma."

"You could've asked."

"I was vulnerable."

"So you stole my food."

"Both things can be true."

Max laughed.

Nate smiled.

And somehow, the heaviness in the room eased.

Not disappeared.

Just softened.

----------------------

Later, when Sarah and Micah were clearing the dishes, Max found Nate standing alone on the back porch.

He walked outside.

"You okay?"

Nate glanced back.

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

Nate smiled.

"You've been asking me that a lot lately."

"You've been saying ‘I’m fine’ a lot lately while feeling the complete opposite."

"Fair."

Max leaned against the railing beside him.

"I'm glad you told me."

Nate looked toward the yard.

"Me too."

"You know..." Max hesitated. "You don't have to pretend you're okay around us."

Nate's expression softened.

"I know."

"You can be sad."

"I know."

"You can miss him."

"I know."

Max nodded.

"Good."

Nate smiled.

"You've become surprisingly wise."

"Don't tell anyone."

"Your secret is safe."

They stood together quietly.

No dramatic promises.

No attempt to fix what couldn't be fixed.

Just two people who had finally discovered that sometimes being heard was enough.

Inside the house, Sarah watched them through the kitchen window and Micah came to stand beside her.

"They're getting close," he said quietly.

Sarah smiled. "They need each other."

Outside, Nate looked over at Max.

For months, he'd thought coming home had been a detour from his life.

Now he was beginning to wonder if it had been exactly what he needed.

Because healing hadn't arrived when he expected it.

It had arrived through quiet conversations.

Through old memories.

Through laughter.

Through a sixteen-year-old boy who had once resented him for leaving and now sat beside him without needing to say anything.

Nate wasn't healed.

Max wasn't healed.

Neither of them was even close.

But for the first time, neither felt quite so alone.

And sometimes...

That was where healing began.