Page 73 of Midnight Between Us
“You had a baby?”
The words tear out of me—low, stunned.Not an accusation.Not quite.Just a brutal truth I’m trying to wrap my head around.
“What the fuck are you doing here?Reading something personal?”
Her voice slices through the air, sharp enough to stop my pulse.I freeze, fingers still wrapped around the picture and the next envelope.
ChapterThirty-One
Keir
Keir,
You might be asking yourself—where the fuck is she?
I’m at a shelter for pregnant teenagers.
Surprise, we’re having a baby.
Not that I’ll tell you.I think you’ll freak out and probably get angry at me.At least that’s what I imagine.You’ll yell and?—
“I never fucking yelledat you, Simone.”My voice cracks more from the truth than the volume.“Not once.”
She glares at me like I’ve committed a fresh sin.“Stop reading my stuff and get the fuck out of here.”
“You never told me.”
“What was the point?”she snaps, jaw clenched.“You would’ve left anyway.At least, in the beginning, I had hope.I ...not knowing that I meant nothing to you gave me something to hold on to.It’s hard to explain, but it got me through.”
I don’t press.I don’t defend.I go back to the letter because her words hurt in a way I can’t dissect yet—and because I’m not sure I deserve to look at her when she’s bleeding like that.
You’ll yelland then leave me just like the sperm donor did to Nina.
Then there’s my grandparents.They might take away my school privileges, just as they did with her.
When I called the shelter, I told them about Mom and Grandfather.
About how the most pious man in Birchwood Springs turned on his daughter after she got pregnant and ...
I’m afraid I’ll end up like her.
That they’ll take my baby and I’ll become invisible.That I’ll try so hard to be seen that the entire town will hate me for my behavior.
It feels like history is repeating itself, and I’m trying to cut it off before it swallows me.
I don’t know what’s next, but I’m in a safe place.
If I never see you again, I hope you get everything you deserve.
Love,
Sims.
My throat burns.I swallow it down because there’s no safe place for a reaction like this.Not with her watching.Not with everything I didn’t know pressing in on me like a bad dream I never woke up from.I remember—fuck, I remember—that one call.A week or so after I left Birchwood Springs.She didn’t even sound like herself.
It was right before a fight.
I was backstage, wrapped hands, adrenaline pumping, waiting for my name to be called.Some guy came over telling me someone was looking for me and handed me a phone.It was bizarre because I didn’t know the dude.
