Page 116 of Before Dawn

I studied him, wanting to uncover him the way he had uncovered me. “What do you want to tell me?”

He shrugged, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “I had a huge insecurity about my glasses growing up.”

“Your glasses?” I echoed,surprised. “Why?”

“I felt out of place,” he admitted, his voice tinged with old wounds. “Imagine being the only one who couldn’t speak English, in a country that wasn’t home, wearing thick, nerdy glasses.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, my heart aching.

“Eventually, I grew into them. I remember leaving them at home one day, thinking I’d be fine. But, I couldn’t see shit, and my dad had to rush to bring them to me.”

The thought of a little Mikkel stubbornly refusing glasses, but realizing he needed them made me smile.

“You’re picturing it, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” I admitted with a laugh.

He leaned closer, tucking a curl behind my ear. “Of course you are.”

His gaze lingered on me, his eyes soft but searching, as though there was something else he wanted to say but couldn’t bring himself to.

“What is it?” I asked, tilting my head.

“It’s nothing.” He leaned back slightly, his hand brushing against the back of his neck, a small tell I’d learned to pick up on.

I reached out, gently touching his arm. “Tell me.”

His lips pressed into a thin line before he exhaled. “I don’t… It’s not something I talk about often,” he admitted, his voice steady but tinged with raw honesty that made my chest tighten. “I’ve mentioned it a few times, but never in depth. I’ve always been quiet. As a kid, I barely spoke—partly because of the language barrier, but mostly because that’s just who I was. My parents worried, thought I was shy, but I just didn’t know how to express myself.”

He dragged a hand down his thigh, pausing as if searching for the right words. “That silence turned into frustration—frustration with myself when I couldn’t get things right, when I felt like I was failing, when things slipped out of my control. Frustration when I couldn’t be perfect. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. My parents worked hard and did their best for us. But as the oldest, carrying the weight of responsibility and the pressure to be perfect, it just kept building.”

I nodded, staying quiet so he couldcontinue.

“It’s better now. I’ve learned to channel it into work, into structure,” he said, his gaze dropping to our hands, his thumb gliding over mine. “But some days, the smallest thing can snap me back into that kid who didn’t know how to let it out.”

My mind wandered, unbidden memories of Joshua’s anger flashing behind my eyes like fragments of a bad dream. The way his temper had made everything fragile—plates shattered against walls, words that cut too deep, doors slammed so hard they rattled the windows and came off their hinges. His rage had been wild, destructive, leaving me to pick up the pieces, both physical and emotional.

A voice in my head reminded me that Mikkelwasn’tJoshua, and I clung to it, desperate to believe it because I didn’t want to ruin this—ruin us. Even in his quiet admission, there was no threat in his tone, no undercurrent of danger. Just a man trying to share a part of himself he wasn’t proud of.

His fingers squeezed mine, pulling me out of the past. “Red?”

I blinked, focusing back on him. “I’m here.”

“You’re thinking hard about something.”

I shook my head with a small smile. “Just listening.”

His lips curved, a flicker of relief in his expression. He studied me for a moment before I broke the silence. “You’ve never been angry with me,” I said, the realization surprising even myself.

He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand. “You’re my calm in the storm, Abigail. I could never be angry at you.”

My heart squeezed at his words, at the way he said them like they were the simplest truth in the world.

Before I could reply, he stood and offered his hand. “Now, how about a walk along the shore?”

I smiled and rose from the blanket. “I’d like that.”

“This place…” I trailed off, searching for the right words. “It’s like the world has slowed down just for us.”

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