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Gwyneth The day Nate came back, I could feel it. I got out of bed early on a Saturday for no reason at all and made lots of cupcakes that I won’t be eating, then I told Dad to go jog without me. I sat on the edge of the pool clutching a vanilla milkshake, removed my sneakers, and dipped my feet in the water. Sometimes, it’s calming because I remember when Nate and I had hot sex here. But other times, all I can think about is when Dad tried to drown him. I shake that image away and grab the milkshake, then stare at it in the sun. “What’s wrong with you, buddy? Why are you tasteless?” “Are you really talking to a milkshake?” Ever since I got up this morning, I had a feeling, but having that feeling and the actual reality is entirely different. Because the sound of his voice after such a long time is like a shockwave and it’s now spreading through me, lighting up all my nerves. God. His voice, that rich depth in it, clutches me in a tight noose. His face blocks the sun as he stares down a