Page 2 of You Found Me in the Dark
He shrugged. “Don’t care. We could drive around town if you want.”
I stood up and followed him. I had never noticed how tall he was before now. He was six feet three, standing a whole foot taller than me.
I stared at him, heartbeat loud in my throat. I could say no. I could’ve told him I was fine where I was. But I wasn’t, and I think he knew.
I didn’t want to sit in that quiet space where I could hear all the noise in my head, feel every emotion crashing into me all at once.
I glanced at him as we both settled into the truck. I always loved this truck. It was an old 1972 Chevy K10. I remember how much work he and Cam put into restoring it. It was black with a few spots of rust around the wheel well. The Chevy symbol on the front was bright blue, and the windows still had to be cranked open. I should know more about cars since my brother is a mechanic, but besides the way it looked, I had no other reason to love it as much as I did.
Reed didn’t say much, which was fine. I wasn’t sure I could handle small talk right now anyway. The silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable, though. If anything, it was comforting that he wasn’t pushing me or asking me to explain myself. He just let the quiet settle there, like he understood that sometimes words weren’t necessary.
The engine rumbled to life as Reed pulled out of the parking lot, the soft glow of the baseball field fading in the rearview mirror until it was nothing more than a smudge oflight in the dark. Sawyers Cove stretched out in front of us, quiet and still.
The road curved gently past the edge of the marina, where sailboats rocked in the water like they were asleep. Further up, the bay itself shimmered under the moonlight, calm and silver, a mirror to the sky above. The familiar row of little shops on Main Street came into view. There were brightly painted storefronts with flower boxes under the windows, and soft patio lights still glowing even though everything was closed for the night. The bakery’s blue awning fluttered in the breeze, and the wooden benches outside the ice cream parlor sat empty.
It should’ve felt like home. It used to. But tonight, everything felt different. Like I was outside my life, watching it through a glass. I saw it all from the streets I knew to the places I’d grown up, but I didn’t feel rooted. At least not the way I used to. Something felt different.
“Sorry,” I muttered after a moment. “I didn’t mean to…” I trailed off, not sure what I was apologizing for.
“Don’t apologize,” Reed spoke, his voice calm but firm. “You don’t have to explain anything.”
I wanted to let go of the tight knot in my chest and just be okay. But I wasn’t ready to talk about it, not yet, at least. The tears that I thought I had under control came back, making my headache return as I fought to keep them in check.
I wiped my face with my hoodie sleeve, trying to hide the way my emotions were spilling over, but I knew he could see.
“You don’t have to be here for me, Reed,” I said quietly, feeling a bit frustrated and embarrassed. “You’re not responsible for me.”
I wasn’t sure why I said that. Maybe it was because I hated the idea of someone feeling obligated to be around me, especiallywhen I was like this. I wasn’t used to feeling so weak, so exposed. I especially did not want him treating me like a kid, or the way my overprotective brother treats me.
Reed didn’t answer right away, and for a moment I thought he might ignore me. But then he spoke, his voice steady.
“I’m not going anywhere, Wren. You don’t have to explain anything to me. I just… I don’t know. I happened to be there, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. So I didn’t say anything at all. Instead, I just nodded, leaning my head against the cool window, letting the silence between us feel like a strange kind of comfort.
2
REED
Ididn’t know what I expected when I told her that I was just making sure she was okay. Maybe I thought she’d shrug it off, maybe shoot back with a sarcastic ‘What are you, my brother?’ Or maybe I was just saying it because it felt like the right thing to do.
The silence that followed was different. It was heavy. I could feel her eyes on me, searching for something beneath the surface of my words. It was like she was trying to piece me together and maybe trying to understand why I was at the baseball field too. I told myself I’d come looking for quiet, for space. I just needed to think. Instead, I found her breaking in ways she wasn’t trying to show, yet somehow, I still managed to see the cracks. After seeing her like that, I knew I couldn’t just walk away. Not without making sure she wouldn’t fall apart the second I did.
I glanced over at her, just a quick look, to see if she was about to say something. Wren leaned her head on the passenger window and stayed quiet, her gaze fixed on the windshield like she wasn’t even seeing what was in front of her. Her face was calm, almostunreadable, but there was tension in the way she held herself. It was as if she were bracing for impact. Like she expected me to finally ask the question she’d been dreading, or maybe just hoping I would.
Part of me wanted to let it go. Another part of me, some deeper instinct, wanted to ask her why she was out there crying on the bleachers all alone this late at night. I wanted to stay with her even though she hadn’t asked me to.
Why did I care so much? Why did it bother me that she was not okay, or that she was trying so hard to pretend she was? Maybe I was just tired of pretending everything in my own life was fine. Maybe I saw something in her that didn’t fit into the polished, predictable version of the people in this town that I’d grown accustomed to. Maybe it was this strange, unexpected need to understand her, to be the one person who didn’t turn away. The one who could just sit with her, in this quiet, and let it mean something real.
I knew how much it had meant to Wren when I was there for her after her breakup with her ex-boyfriend, Tyler. I hadn’t known much about the relationship until then. He dumped her days before her birthday. I found her on the beach, on a cold evening in November, celebrating her twentieth birthday in tears. We sat together on the cold sand, shoulder to shoulder, and talked about how she was feeling. I was there for her years ago, just like I’m here for her now.
The silence stretched between us for far too long. I shifted in my seat, trying to focus on the shapes in the dark. The trees, the outline of a mailbox, or the distant flicker of someone else’s porch light, but none of it could hold my attention for long. She was there, just a few inches away, and every second that passed made me more aware of her presence. And that was the problem.
Shewas the problem.
Because no matter how much I tried to push the thought down, bury it beneath reason and boundaries and loyalty, it kept rising back to the surface. I cared. More than I should have and more than her brother, my best friend, would ever be okay with.
I ran a hand over my jaw, frustration threading through my chest. This feeling wasn’t supposed to happen again. She wasoff-limits. She always had been. She was the tag-along little sister for years, the one who used to sneak into our marathon gaming sessions and steal the last slice of pizza just to spite us. The one we were supposed to protect. Wren was the one person I was not supposed to get tangled up with.
