Page 67 of Midnight Between Us
“You’re here too,” she concludes.She sets her mug down.“You don’t have to tell me anything.But if you ever need to say something out loud and not be judged for it, I’m here.”
I nod.
“Also,” she adds, a sly smile tugging at her lips, “if you don’t want everyone in town thinking you’re in Arizona on a goat yoga retreat, maybe throw up an out-of-office email that doesn’t sound like a Pinterest board.”
I snort.“I so didn’t do that.”
“Obviously.You don’t even use exclamation points.”
I roll my eyes.“Please tell me that’s not a thing.”
“Look, Gale might’ve started a rumor, okay.”
I gasp.
“She says you deserve it for leaving her mid-pregnancy.”
I lift my hands and shake my head.“She just finished her first trimester.I left perfectly good instructions, and I’ve been keeping an eye on her chart.Tell her to undo that rumor.”
“Nope.It stays unless you tell me about Keir.”
My phone rings, slicing through the moment.My stomach clenches.That tone only rings on Sundays.I hesitate.Should I answer in front of her?
She’ll ask questions and ...do I want to answer any of them?
ChapterTwenty-Four
Keir
Delilah Mora usedto be tolerable.Maybe even likable.
But that was before she decided this house was open for visitation hours.
First it was that guy—Cassian, with all his fucking annoying questions.Are you sure you didn’t see them?
Of course I didn’t see them.If I had, maybe I would’ve beaten the shit out of them.Somehow I have the feeling that they knew I wouldn’t come with them willingly, that I would fight them.No, they were aware of my skills.There’s no doubt about it.Did they figure out that I used to fight in the Bronx for money?I did it before the street fights became semi-illegal.It was good money.Paid my bills and my tuition.I still fight but not as often.Not because I need the money, but because I ...that’s all the human contact I get sometimes.
Atlas’s voice comes back with the stupid therapist thing.
That’s the problem with too much time and not enough to do.
The silence doesn’t stay quiet for long.It fills with intrusive thoughts I’ve spent years trying to outrun—thoughts that slip through the cracks I didn’t realize were still open.The past doesn’t knock.It breaks in.Reminds me that no matter how far I ran, it always knew the shortcuts.
And now it’s whispering things I have no business believing.
That maybe, just maybe, I could fix it.Glue the broken pieces together and become someone else.Someone better.Someone who doesn’t seek pain like it’s penance.Someone who might—someday—let himself feel something without needing to bleed for it first.
But do I deserve any of that?
Maybe forgiveness.Maybe just from Simone.
Even if she never says it.Even if it’s only in the way she doesn’t look at me like I’m poison.
I don’t know what I want from her.Haven’t for a long time.
An apology?No.That’s mine to give.
A conversation?A glance?Anything that confirms I’m still visible?
