Page 20 of The Silence Between

“Hey,” I echoed, the constant tension in my chest easing for the first time all day. “How was work?”

“Long. Boring. Better now.” He leaned against me slightly. “How was dinner with the future President and First Lady Webb?”

I laughed despite myself. “Suffocating. They've already picked out my future wife.”

“Lucky girl,” Leo said, his tone light though his fingers tightened on mine. “Does she know she's engaged?”

“She's got a spot at Princeton too. Very convenient.”

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the occasional car cross the main bridge below, headlights reflecting on dark water.

“Winter break,” I said eventually. “My parents are visiting my aunt in Phoenix for a week. I'll have the house to myself.”

The implication was clear in the way Leo turned to look at me, his expression softening in the dim light. “A whole week?”

“December twenty-third to thirtieth.” I'd been counting the days since my parents announced their plans, imagining the freedom of an empty house, of time with Leo without constant glances at the clock.

“I'll need to bring the kids to the factory Christmas party on the twenty-fourth,” he said. “Mom insists. But otherwise...” He left the sentence unfinished, full of possibility.

“I got a second job,” he added after another comfortable silence. “Night security at the mall for the holiday season. Should help with rent until Dad comes back.”

The casual mention of his ongoing family crisis reminded me of the vast differences in our daily concerns. While I planned romantic interludes, he calculated survival strategies.

“I could help,” I said impulsively. “With money, I mean. My trust fund?—“

I felt Leo stiffen beside me, his hand withdrawing from mine. “I'm not a charity case,” he said quietly, the warmth in his voice replaced by careful neutrality.

“That's not what I?—“

“Isn't it?” He stood, creating physical distance that felt vaster than the few feet between us. “Poor Leo from East Riverton, let's fix his problems with the Webb family checkbook?”

“That's not fair,” I said, standing to face him. “I just want to help.”

“I don't need your help. I need—“ He stopped, jaw tightening.

“What? What do you need, Leo?”

“I need you to understand that some problems can't be solved by throwing money at them. That I have my own way of handling things.” His voice softened slightly. “That this—us—only works if we're equals.”

The words hit me like a slap, exposing blind spots I hadn't recognized. “We are equals.”

“Are we?” He gestured vaguely toward West Riverton, where my house stood with its manicured lawn and security system. “Your biggest problem is whether to follow your dream or your parents' plan. Mine is whether we'll have electricity next month.”

The gulf between our worlds yawned open, wider than the river below us.

“I'm sorry,” I said finally. “I wasn't thinking.”

Leo sighed, the anger draining from his posture. “No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. It's just... complicated.”

“I know.” I took a cautious step toward him. “I don't always get it right. But I'm trying.”

He closed the remaining distance between us, his hand finding mine again. “Me too.”

We stood there on the bridge, hands clasped, the question still hanging between us: How could two people build something lasting across such different worlds?

* * *

December transformedRiverton with twinkling lights and artificial cheer, the town's economic divisions temporarily disguised by universal decorations. In Leo's small apartment, we hung paper snowflakes and dollar store tinsel, determined to create Christmas magic for the kids despite their circumstances.

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