“You're not me. And I pray you never will be.”

Nathan turned his head, shooting you a stern glare. “You got yourself into trouble again. What did I tell you about fights, huh?” He grumbled, rolling his eyes refocusing on the road. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, his anger barely contained.

Nathan Reed, twenty-two, had been in and out of juvie until he turned eighteen, when he was sent to an all-men's prison for several months. That punishment seemed to snap him out of his rebellious phase.

As a teenager, Nathan made a lot of choices he now regretted—stealing from stores, vandalizing buildings, getting into petty fights, driving under the influence, and coming home with a police escort more often than not, usually with a bloodied face.

And you, being several years younger, had picked up on those behaviors, leading you to make the same mistakes. You almost ended up in a juvenile detention center yourself.

While he drove, Nathan stole another glance at you, inspecting your bruised cheek, split lip, and bloodied knuckles. “Dammit, kid. I keep telling you to stay outta trouble, don't I?” His gaze lingered for a moment before returning to the road.

You stayed silent, your eyes full of defiance and frustration. His expression softened, and he let out a sigh.

“Hey. It’s not all on you. Mistakes are part of learning. We’re all human, yeah?” He paused, his tone gentler now. “But that doesn’t mean you can just do whatever you want and hope everything works out. You hear me, kiddo? You’ve got a chance to learn from the mistakes I made. Don’t waste it.”