Page 102 of Midnight Between Us
I didn’t expect a letter.
I didn’t expect anything, honestly.
There was a time I used to imagine you coming back and explaining everything.Telling me why it had to be that way.But you didn’t.You stayed gone, and I stopped asking why because it hurt too much to be stuck in a loop that didn’t offer closure.
But here we are.Again.You, writing from thousands of miles away from here.Silverthorne Bay is beautiful.I’ve been there a couple of times while I was interning at Luna Harbor.Me ...I’m reading your letter and feeling everything I spent years trying to bury.
I don’t want an apology.Not yet.Maybe not ever.
Not until you know what you’re apologizing for.And maybe, once you do, we’ll both realize it was never really about an apology at all—but about closure.
Yes, the way you left was shitty.Yes, it definitely gutted me.
Yet, I had no idea you ...what happened between you and your father that night justifies the way you bolted from this town.
But—and I say this without cruelty—that could’ve been the moment you finally asked for help.
By the way ...what happened to him?
To your father?
It’s something I never let myself ask.Maybe I thought it was irrelevant.Or perhaps I didn’t want to invite more darkness while I was just trying to blend in in town.
I heard your mom died.Sorry about that.She was a hardworking, a brave woman, and ...I wish I could say a good mother, but I never understood why she never kicked your father out of the house.
That’s their story, and I hope that all of you Timberbridge men write a new one, that is full of love and healing.One that, even when it’s messy, is not hard or brutal the way yours was.Something beautiful, filled with laughter and conversation.Without violence or guilt.
For now, I need to know you’re not just writing because you feel guilty.Guilt doesn’t build bridges, Keir.And it sure as hell doesn’t raise the dead.
Don’t write again unless you mean it.
Sim
P.S.I can attest that Willie is a name they use often.I wouldn’t be surprised if Atlas changed it to Ben just to fuck with you.
ChapterForty-Nine
Simone,
It’s been a month since I received your letter.
Thirty days of sitting in front of blank pages, trying to write something that makes sense—something that matters—and coming up short.Every time I tried, the words felt hollow or dishonest.As if I were trying to speak in a language I couldn’t even understand myself.Weirdly, an almost forty-year-old doesn’t understand social cues, isn’t it?
Writing this now doesn’t mean I’ve figured it all out.Not even close.But my thoughts are a little less convoluted.
Honestly, a week ago, I considered not writing at all.Not because I didn’t mean what I said the first time—but because I hated the idea of sending you another letter full of broken pieces and unanswered questions.You deserve more than that.You always have.
And yet, here I am.Writing again.Because no matter how hard it is to get the words out, they need to be said.For you.For me.
My main goal is to get better for me.So I can learn how to live, but my ultimate goal is you.Living with you, finally learning how to love you the right way.Confession time, I did love you and never stopped—never.Once you find your soulmate, it’s impossible to fall out of love.
This time, though, I want a chance to live with you, not beside you.To love you—not the way I did before, which was selfish and scared—but the way you deserve to be loved.
Wholeheartedly.
Gently.
Honestly.
