Page 115 of Midnight Between Us
“I was blindfolded.”I complain.
She shrugs.“They needed to make sure you didn’t know where he’s at,” she explains.“They have to keep him safe.”
I nod, jaw tight.“Fuckers,” I mutter.But I get it.I’d do the same if I were them.My name alone is a risk.My existence, a liability.
“He’s very mature for his age,” I say out loud.
She bobs her head.“Lyn is an old soul.I’m glad he finally got to meet you.”
I glance sideways.“You waiting for me?”
She shrugs, still looking ahead.“Maybe.Maybe I was just waiting for the quiet to settle.”
I let that sit between us.The wind shifts, carrying the faintest scent of her shampoo.Flowery ...I can’t really say, but it smells like her.
“Lyndon’s strong,” I continue.“Smart.Has your mouth, your expression when he’s mad.Told me he wasn’t broken.And he’s not.”
Her lips twitch like she’s trying not to cry or smile.Maybe both.
“I told him I wasn’t here to take anything.Just to be here, if he wanted me.”
“Did he agree?”
“He said maybe.Eventually.He wants space and for me to be safe.”
She nods again.“That sounds like him.”
I study her profile.The slope of her cheek.The way she holds herself like someone who’s lived too many lives in a single lifetime.
“What’s next for you?”she suddenly asks.Not sure if she’s waiting for a goodbye or what, but this is the best time to tell her that I still need to be in hiding.
If possible, I would love to stay with her, but I understand if she prefers I leave.My father is involved with the Hollow Syndicate, and I wouldn’t doubt if she uses her as leverage to get to me.Knowing that dear Dad is involved makes this more personal—to him, to my brothers, and, obviously, to me.
It’s probably about being the last man standing.
“I don’t expect you to say anything,” I add.“I just ...needed to be near you.Even if it’s only for tonight.”
“I don’t have answers,”she says.
“I don’t need them right now.”
“I don’t know if I can do this again,” she continues, and I’m not sure if she means sharing the same house or falling in love with me.
“I wouldn’t ask you to.”
Her arms wrap tighter around her knees.“But you’re here.”
“I am.”
And I am.Not to fix anything.Not to rewrite the past.I might only be here to sit here beside her while the cold wind moves through the trees and the ache inside both of us breathes a little easier.
Minutes pass.Or maybe hours.
Finally, she tilts her head.“The guest room is still yours.If you want it.”
“I don’t.”
Her eyes snap to mine.There’s a pause.Electricity.Regret.Something sharp and alive.
