Page 40 of Midnight Between Us
And I’m not just a patient.
I wait, watching her.Waiting for the moment when she meets my eyes.
Wondering if the truth will show up in hers.
Wondering if I’ll still see the girl from the lake—or the stranger who ...what is her end game?I’m not sure where she’s taking me, but I’ll figure out a way to escape before she’s the one who ends me.
I don’t know if I’ll see the girl who once begged me to stay because, in my heart, I know she did.Or who am I supposed to be dealing with during our final destination?
ChapterThirteen
Keir
The ambulance’ssiren isn’t on.There’s just the low grumble of the engine and the intermittent rattle of the wheels every time we hit a crack in the pavement.No music.No talking.It’s almost as suffocating as the hospital room I was trapped in—though I still don’t know how long I was in there.Days?Weeks?Longer?
All I know is this: I hate it.All of it.
The ache in places I can’t name.
The helpless feeling makes me want to jump out of my skin.Somehow, I know this isn’t me.I find solutions.I fix.I don’t let people do anything for me, but right now there’s nothing I can do.I’m broken, mind, body ...and maybe even the parts of me I don’t understand are broken too.
But perhaps the one thing that I hate the most is the look onherface like I’m already gone.No, it’s more like she doesn’t know how to rid herself of me and is resigned to being around.Why does she hate me?
The stretcher’s bolted in, but it still shifts just enough to make my ribs feel like they’re trying to climb out of my chest.My leg’s braced.My arm’s strapped.My dignity is probably somewhere back in the clinic, curled up next to the rest of my past.
Simone hasn’t said a word since we left.She hasn’t even looked at me.Her hair’s pulled back the same way it was earlier—tight, too precise—like it’s the only thing she can still control.However, a few strands have come loose, clinging to her cheek.I wish I could reach out and move them behind her ear and kiss her.Fuck, where did that come from?
I shake my head, trying to remember why it is that she’s the only person I can remember.If I could, I’d ask her, but would she answer my questions?
She’s focused on the monitor in front of her, eyes locked on the rise and fall of my heart rate as if it’ll answer a question neither of us is ready to ask.I don’t know what to say.I want to ask what we’re doing.Why she’s the one bringing me wherever this is?Why does it feel like I’m being handed off to someone or something I can’t see?
I want to ask if this is about money.If I have any.If she wants some.If she’s been told to keep me alive or make sure I disappear.
Mostly, I want to ask why her voice feels like it carved its way inside me before I even knew her name.
But I don’t.
Because I’m afraid of what she’ll say.
Or worse—what she won’t.
A fresh jolt of pain slices through my body when the ambulance hits a dip.My leg lights up, fire under my skin, and I groan without meaning to.My fingers twitch, tugging at the IV line.It’s small, but it stings.
That’s when she moves.
Just a light shift forward—barely anything—but it steals the air from the room.Her hand checks the IV, the tape.Then the other lands gently on my forearm, grounding and clinical, but something about it doesn’t feel like protocol.
It feels like a memory.
Her thumb brushes just beneath the edge of the tape, and something stirs within me—something I can’t name but recognize like it’s always been there.My lungs stop moving.My thoughts fracture.
She’s not looking at me, yet I feel her.Her presence, her pulse, the way she knows this touch, even if she won’t admit it.Something buried deep inside me rises as if it’s been waiting for her hand to wake it up.
Suddenly, I’m not in the ambulance anymore.
I’m inside of a memory.At least I can distinguish them now from reality.
I see myself lying on a blanket by a lake.The night is warm, wrapping around us like a secret.My flannel sleeves are rolled up, and her mouth finds the inside of my wrist.Simone is laughing—quiet, breathless—intoxicated by moonlight and something softer.Her lips land where her fingers rest now, in the ambulance, as if time has folded in on itself and brought everything back.
