Page 89 of Midnight Between Us
I cock an eyebrow.“Lilah?”
“Delilah.”He rolls his eyes.
I blink because what’s with the ‘Lilah’ and ...“Is Del a Timberbridge woman now?”
Mal sighs, long and weary.“Not the time to unpack that.The point is, she’s pissed at you on Simone’s behalf.And since I figured you’d be temporarily unsupervised, I came to check on you.”
I gesture down at my leg.“Mind if we go inside?I’m not exactly built for dramatic standoffs on gravel right now.”
“Yeah, yeah.”He leads the way, holding the door open with an exaggerated flourish.“After you, old man.”
We settle into the living room.I sink into the couch and lean my head back, my body already aching like it’s fighting me for just existing.
“So?”Malerick settles across from me, his eyes fixed but not harsh.“You going to tell me what went down with you two?”
I stare at the ceiling for a beat too long, counting imperfections in the paint like they might offer answers.“You ever feel like you’re standing in the middle of a disaster zone ...and somehow you’re the one who lit the match?”
Mal huffs, not quite a laugh.“You’re a Timberbridge.Setting things on fire’s kind of our specialty.”
He’s not wrong.
Our family legacy isn’t built on empire or fortune—it’s built on smoke and ash.We don’t just burn bridges.We set fire to the whole fucking road.
I let the silence stretch.My throat tightens, but not from emotion—not exactly.It’s more like my body’s trying to make room for something it doesn’t know how to hold.Like if I say it out loud, it becomes real.Permanent.
“She wrote me letters.”My voice comes out low, rough around the edges.I don’t look at him.Can’t.“Simone.From back then ...when I left.”
Mal doesn’t say a word.Just sits there, waiting.No judgment.No pressure.Which somehow makes it worse.
“They were in a box,” I continue.“Hidden.Tied up like they mattered.”
I let out a dry, bitter laugh, one that tastes like old regrets and ash.“And they did.They fucking do.She wrote them when she was pregnant.”
Mal blinks.His head pulls back slightly like the air around us just shifted.“She was pregnant?”
I nod.Once.Then again.Then I scrub my face like I’m trying to erase it all.My skin feels hot under my palms.My lungs are tight.Not from panic.Just ...from the fact that there’s no undoing any of this.
“She had a baby.”The words land somewhere between a confession and a collapse.“My baby.”
The silence stretches, but it’s not empty.It’s filled with the sound of my pulse, of Malerick, inhaling like he’s trying to catch up.
“I didn’t know,” I go on, each word duller than the last.“She was alone.And I wasn’t there.And now ...”My hands drop to my lap, useless.“Now I don’t even know what the hell I am to either of them.”
That lands hard.Because it’s true, I’m too late.Twenty years too late for everything.I tell him everything I’ve learned today.The day she ran away, the shelter ...everything.
“If I hadn’t left,” I finish the story.“But I couldn’t stay, Mal.I couldn’t stay another day.”
“You had to leave, Keir.”His voice is firm as if he’s trying to drag me out of a bad place and make me understand that I didn’t do anything wrong.“The night you left ...Mom called me.Said you were gone.Dad ended up in the hospital pretty banged up.It was bad, and I knew.I knew why you left.”
My mouth goes dry.
“I fucking knew,” he continues.“You were unraveling the way I did right before I ...that’s what happens when you have too much rage bottled up.Too much silence.He fucked with your head—that’s what he does before he starts banging your body like a punching bag.It was just a matter of time.”
“I almost killed him,” I remind him as if that doesn’t get absolved as easily.
“He was proud of you, you know,” Malerick says with disgust.“He told Mom you finally had the guts to stand up to him.Called it a rite of passage to become a real man.You were a real Timberbridge.”
My stomach turns.
