Nolan had barely turned to leave when the shouting started.

He faltered and twisted around. Nora moved into the kitchen. Bottles littered the countertops.

Isaac appeared, face red, body taut. Nolan tensed. "How dare you?" Isaac snarled. His words were distant, but clear. Oozing with disdain.

Nora froze. Her dad wrenched her by the shoulder, berated her, and then—

The world shifted to slow motion. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. Ba-bump...ba-bump...

The truck zoomed by, a blur of faded, peeling blue. Nolan catapulted up the front steps, reached for the door handle, and—

The door flung open. Nora jumped, and he backpedaled, heart ramming into his throat.

"Nolan," she gasped. She closed the door behind her.

He reached for her cheek, then drew back. The night wasn't enough to conceal the bruising skin.

A horrified rage pulsated beneath his skin. All at once, the clips slammed together.

Nora weeping in his living room, desperate not to go home.

The tense breakfast.

The worried glances at the clock whenever she and the others were filming at the house.

The answer was there, on the first day he stepped foot in her house. Oh god. How long had this been going on? Since her mom died? That was when she was, what—eight? Or had it been going on before even then?

Why the hell hadn't he caught on sooner? Why hadn't Rachel? Willow? Andy? Erin? Max?

His rage turned to above. None of them had known. But He had.

A distant crash sent Nora scurrying down the driveway. He fell into step beside her, hands at his sides despite the want to wrap a protective arm around her. Touching her unexpectedly would just make things worse.

She lifted a hand toward her cheek, but stopped, curled her fingers into a fist, and dropped it back to her side. She bit her lip and reached out, and he took her hand in his. His thumb rubbed softly over hers. I'm here. She didn't look at him, but leaned against him. Message received.

Ahead, the railroad tracks emerged in the darkness. Nora pulled away and hurried for a patch of large rocks that sat just before the tracks. Nolan almost had to run to keep up.

She lowered herself onto one of the larger boulders, big enough to fit two people. She let out a relieved sigh and dropped her head in her hands. Her shoulders shook.

"Nora," he whispered.

"No," she whimpered. "I can't, Nolan. I just—I can't."

He eased into the space beside her, and she tucked her head into the crook of his neck. Automatically, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. When she flinched—shit—he started to recoil, an apology on his lips, but she tugged his arm back. She gripped his hand tightly as she sobbed, and he let her, his head resting against her own.

Her cries melded with the soft breeze, croaking frogs, and chattering crickets. Each drop landed in his stomach—hard. Heavy.

"You're staying with me tonight," he said.

She leapt to her feet. "No, no, no, no, no—it's fine. I'm fine. What you saw—he—he never does that. He's never...h-hit me before."

"But you're not completely surprised he did."

She looked away.

"If you don't want to stay with me, that's fine," he said. "But we need to find you someone. Willow, your Aunt Rachel. You can't go back there."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "He's my dad, Nolan. He...he loves me." Her gaze fell to the tracks. She looked back up. "He didn't mean it."

A lie. "You're terrified."

"Tonight—"

"It's not just about tonight. You've been scared since we met." He stood. "Nora, please."

She shook her head. Stepped back. Raked a hand through her hair. "I'll be fine," she said.

"No, you won't. You can't just rely on God to protect you." The words shot out harsher than intended, his anger at the Great I Am launching in the wrong direction. He froze. Shit. "I—"

"You're making this about God right now?" she snapped. "Seriously?"

"I'm—"

"Faith isn't something you have when it's convenient," she said. "You think I don't struggle with it?" He didn't answer. She powered on. "Sometimes I feel forgotten. Like He doesn't hear me or maybe doesn't think my problems are worth listening to. Or, on my worst days, that He agrees with my dad. But at the end of the day, I know He has my back. My life would suck a lot more without Him."

"I'm sorry." The words were flimsy, pathetic. But they were the truth.

She flung a hand toward the railroad tracks. "Do you know what this place is?"

He glanced at the tracks. Back at her. Helpless.

"This is where I killed my mom."

His jaw fell. He smothered the gape, but it was too late. She saw.

"I come here all the time," she said, kicking at loose pebbles. They scattered across the road. "Sometimes I write. Then, other times, I just sit and try to feel connected to her." She laughed a small, humorless laugh. "I sit here, at the place where I killed my mom. All the time."

"Nora." Don't do this to yourself.

She ignored him and stepped onto the tracks. She opened her arms wide. "She died right here. Hit by an eighteen-wheeler."

He stood there, silent. What was he supposed to do? To say? What were the right words? Concentrate. But her self-hatred had filled his head. And he was overwhelmed.

"I was at home with my dad. It was night time and pouring. The deafening and blinding kind." She swiped a hand across her eyes. "She'd been stuck late at work, and I wanted to call her. My dad said no, but when he wasn't looking, I snuck away and took the phone. All I remember is being annoyed when she didn't pick up. I don't even remember why I called."

She sobbed, and Nolan was there, wrapping his arms around her. Her fingers dug into the back of his shirt as she cried, but he barely noticed. He ran a hand through her hair, hoping, willing for her pain to ease. Give it to me instead.

"When the police showed up..." She sucked in a shaky breath. "My dad just looked at me, then at the phone. His face."

He tightened his embrace. "It wasn't your fault."

"She—she got distrac—distracted because she was trying to answer my call."

"How do you know?"

She faltered. "I just...the rain. She looked down. She swerved..."

She dropped away from him then, as though the weight of standing was too much. She sat right there, on the tracks, and wrapped her arms around her knees. She mumbled something, but her words were so muffled by her jeans that he couldn't make them out.

He settled beside her, knees tucked. "What?" He asked.

She dragged her face upward, her bruised cheek still pressing into her leg. She winced. "Wife killer," she said. "That's what he calls me."

"What?"

She shrugged hopelessly. "It's what I am."

The defeat in her voice...it tore him to pieces. "No, it's not."

She blinked. Not believing him. Again, fury swelled. How dare you? The words launched at an invisible Isaac. How dare you take someone as beautiful as Nora and make her feel worthless?

"How do you know your mom swerved because she was trying to answer the phone?" he asked, careful to keep his voice gentle.

Her mouth opened. Shut. "My dad..."

"Wasn't there."

Her eyes widened. "But..." She groaned and dropped her face again, wracked with sobs. He held her, and she collapsed into him. "She...she swerved into the other lane. What else could have...?"

"It could have been anything," he said. "She probably couldn't see an inch in front of her. If she had the radio on, she probably wouldn't have heard her phone ring. And even if she had, who says she tried to pick up?"

She hesitated. "But...my dad said..." She stared back at him with desperate eyes.

"Your dad can't know what happened in the car," he said. "He needs someone to blame, and he chose you."

She closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks. "But what if it was me?" she whispered.

"You were eight. You didn't know." He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "And even if she did try to pick up the phone, it would have been one factor out of many."

Her eyes opened. "That still makes me responsible."

"For making a phone call. That's it. You didn't control anything else." He could have mentioned that it would have been her mom's decision to look away from the wheel during an intense rainstorm, but that would only hurt Nora more. So, he didn't.

Nora stood. She teetered off the tracks and resumed kicking at the scattered rocks. "What Ryan talked about today. Forgiving yourself. I don't know if I can."

"I'll help you."

She faced him again. "You will?"

He nodded.

"Nolan Haynes," she said. She wiped at her eyes, and when she smiled, some of the tightness in his stomach eased. "I think you're the best gift God has ever given me."

He smiled back. "I know," he joked.

She laughed, but the sound quickly faded. "Please," she said. She reached for his arm, clinging to his sleeve. "Don't tell anyone about this." When he hesitated, her grip tightened. "Nolan. Please."

His eyes found the ground. "Okay," he said.

"You promise?"

He looked up. "I promise."