It had been two weeks since Nathan's conversation with Sarah, and though the weight in his chest hadn't lifted, there was a quiet sort of peace that had settled in the space between them. The silence between them wasn't as suffocating as it once had been. They had spoken more than once since that night outside her apartment, but every conversation left more questions than answers.
Nathan didn't mind, though. He had learned to accept that there was no rush. Whatever they were, whatever they could be, would come in time. He had no control over the pace of her healing, but he could be there for her—patient, waiting.
But there was one thing he wasn't prepared for—the storm that would come in the form of Lewis.
It was late one evening when Nathan's phone rang, and his blood ran cold when he saw the name. It wasn't Sarah. It was Lewis.
He had seen him only a handful of times since that night—the night Nathan had pushed him. The night everything changed.
Nathan hadn't expected to hear from him. In fact, he had convinced himself that Lewis had moved on. After all, Sarah had chosen him. She had chosen a life with him, a life where Nathan no longer had a place.
But now, the phone in his hand buzzed again, the screen lighting up with Lewis's name, as if fate was reminding him of everything he had tried to bury.
Taking a deep breath, Nathan answered, his voice stiff. "Lewis?"
"Yeah, it's me," Lewis replied, his tone as casual as it had always been. But there was something lurking behind it—something Nathan couldn't quite place. "We need to talk."
Nathan's chest tightened. He couldn't tell if it was a threat or just a simple request, but either way, he couldn't ignore it. "About what?" Nathan asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
"I'm at the bar near the old place," Lewis said. "Come through. We need to clear the air."
Nathan hesitated. Every instinct screamed at him to walk away—to not step into the lion's den, especially after everything that had happened. But part of him knew that if he didn't go, if he didn't face this, he might never get the answers he needed.
"I'll be there in twenty," Nathan said, hanging up the phone before he could second-guess himself.
---
The bar was dimly lit, the low hum of conversations blending with the soft clink of glasses. Nathan walked in, his gaze immediately landing on Lewis, who was sitting at a corner booth. His posture was relaxed, almost too casual, but Nathan could see the storm brewing behind his brother's eyes.
When Lewis saw him approach, he nodded in acknowledgment. "Sit down," he said, waving a hand across the seat in front of him.
Nathan took a seat, his heart pounding in his chest. He had no idea what to expect from this meeting, but he couldn't help but feel the tension thick in the air between them.
"So, what's this about?" Nathan asked, trying to get straight to the point.
Lewis stared at him for a moment, as if sizing him up. Then, with a deep breath, he leaned forward, his voice low. "I know what happened between us—between you and Sarah. I know you're still trying to figure it out, and honestly? So am I."
Nathan's eyebrows furrowed, confusion flashing across his face. "What do you mean?"
"Sarah hasn't said it, but I know she's not over you," Lewis continued, his tone hardening. "She can't just forget what you two shared. I don't know what game she's playing, but I can't just sit back and pretend like it's fine."
Nathan's heart clenched. "She's not playing a game, Lewis. She's confused. We're both confused."
Lewis's jaw tightened, and for the first time, Nathan saw a flicker of the pain that had been buried beneath his brother's cocky exterior. "You don't get it, do you? She's not just confused. She's torn. And I'm tired of watching you play hero while I'm left picking up the pieces. You had your chance, Nathan. But I'm not gonna let you destroy everything we've built, everything she and I have built, because you can't keep your feelings in check."
Nathan felt a sharp sting at the accusation. "You don't get to dictate what happens between me and Sarah. You don't get to tell me how I feel."
"I'm not telling you how you feel," Lewis snapped, his voice rising. "I'm telling you how she feels. And it's not like you think."
Nathan's mind raced, the weight of his brother's words settling over him like a storm cloud. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that I know you. I know how you think. And I know what you're doing—playing the martyr. Pretending like you can't be happy if she's with me. But you need to face the truth. You pushed me that night, Nathan. You pushed me, and now you have to live with the consequences. You can't keep pretending that nothing happened."
Nathan's fists clenched on the table. "I never wanted any of this," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you don't understand. I pushed you because I couldn't watch you with her anymore. I couldn't stand the thought of losing her."
There was a long silence between them, the weight of their words hanging in the air like a heavy fog.
Finally, Lewis spoke, his voice quieter now, tinged with something that almost resembled regret. "I know you didn't want this, Nathan. But neither did I. I never wanted to hurt you. But I had to move on. I had to."
Nathan sat back, his mind reeling. There was no easy way to process this. The pain was still there, but so was the raw honesty between them. And in that moment, something shifted. Nathan realized that it wasn't just about Sarah anymore—it was about them, too.
---
As Nathan walked out of the bar, his mind was a whirlwind of emotions. The conversation with Lewis had opened old wounds, but it had also given him something he hadn't realized he needed—a sense of closure.
But closure didn't mean the battle was over. Not by a long shot.
He still loved Sarah, and Lewis was still in the picture. But one thing had become clear: nothing could ever be the same. Not between him and Sarah, not between him and Lewis, and certainly not between Nathan and his own heart.
He had a choice to make—and it would change everything.
---