Page 50 of You Found Me in the Dark
I kept my left hand on the wheel and let my right drift to her thigh—light, careful, like a question. She didn’t flinch or move away. Instead, her hand slid under mine and laced our fingers together. The way it made my chest feel tight and light at the same time? Nothing had prepared me for that.
Forty minutes later, we were nearing the overlook. The road had narrowed to a ribbon of cracked asphalt, winding through thick woods and sleepy farmland until it opened up into this—this quiet, endless stretch of sky and stars. The kind of place you didn’t find on purpose unless you were looking for stillness or maybe magic.
The overlook sat high above the bay, tucked just off Center Road on the Old Mission Peninsula. To the west, rows of vineyards sloped down toward the bay, the moonlight brushing their leaves in silver. To the east, fields rolled into shadow, soft andendless, and beyond them, Lake Michigan stretched out like a sheet of dark glass. And directly in front of us stood our colorful little town. It was littered with tiny twinkling lights that some had decorated their shops with.
The stars above were brighter here—sharper, louder somehow. Like they belonged to us. The wind was gentle, just enough to move her hair when I glanced her way. And in the quiet between us, I couldn’t help but think: this is the kind of night you remember for the rest of your life.
She looked around as I opened her door and helped her out, her fingers brushing mine as she slid down from the truck. That one small touch shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, but it always did with her.
Wren stepped forward, and I watched the way her eyes widened, the soft gasp that left her lips as she took in the view. The lake shimmered under the moonlight, the reflection of stars scattered like glitter across the surface. She turned slowly, like she didn’t want to miss a single piece of it—the rows of grapevines catching the first hues of moonlight mixed with darkness on their leaves, the hush of the wind through the trees, the lake stretching out toward forever.
Her face changed at that moment. Like something in her finally exhaled. That tension she always carried melted, just a little.
“I didn’t know the world could be like this,” she whispered, almost to herself. “So… quiet. So big.”
I couldn’t stop staring at her. The way the sky painted her in soft silver and shadow. She was always beautiful, but out here she was something else entirely. She was the brightest thing here.
“You deserve to feel this,” I said, voice low. “The quiet. The beauty. All of it.”
I walked her to the back of the truck, opened the tailgate, andpushed back the retractable cover. I gestured to the truck with a nervous shrug. “I figured… if you wanted to talk, or not talk… this might be a good spot.”
Wren blinked at the soft string lights I’d rigged up across the bed rails, the pillows tossed in to make it comfortable, the snacks tucked into a little crate I’d half-jokingly labeled “essentials.”
Then she looked at me. Her smile broke slowly, almost like she was trying not to let all of her emotions show all at once. But her eyes were already glassy, and when she reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers trembled just slightly.
“This is…” Her voice caught, and she swallowed hard. “No one’s ever done something like this for me.”
Shit, she was about to cry.
“Wren,” I said gently, stepping a little closer, placing a hand on the small of her back. “You deserve things like this. You always have.”
She gave a wet laugh, then covered her mouth like she was embarrassed by how quickly her emotions were bubbling to the surface. “I just… I didn’t think I’d ever have this. Something soft. Someone who thought about what I needed without me having to ask. Reed, this is amazing. Thank you so much.”
“I didn’t have to think hard,” I smiled. “You’ve been running through my head for probably the past few years.”
Her breath hitched, and then she distracted herself by climbing into the truck bed, settling into the blankets, and wiping under her eyes before I could see the tears fall.
I didn’t say anything else. I just joined her, letting the quiet settle in. The kind of quiet that only existed when you knew the person next to you felt like home. And in that moment, with hertucked under the stars, I swore I’d never let her forget what it felt like to be chosen.
“You even packed my gross green tea and all of my favorite gross snacks,” she whispered, almost stunned.
“Of course I did,” I said. “I mean, you have questionable taste, but I’m not judging.”
She laughed, full and bright, and as I settled in beside her, shoulder brushing hers, I knew I’d never want to be anywhere else.
31
WREN
The night air curled around us like a secret. I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them, and leaned my head back to stare at the sky. The stars looked softer from here, like they weren’t so far away. Like if I reached just a little higher, maybe I could touch one. They shimmered against the dark velvet of the sky, scattered like pieces of something ancient and gentle, and I wondered how something so massive could make me feel so small in the best possible way.
Reed hadn’t said anything in a few minutes, but I felt him beside me. I think he was waiting for me to speak first. His presence warmed the space between us better than any blanket could. I glanced over at him from the corner of my eye. He leaned back on his hands, emerald green eyes turned upward, jaw tight like he was holding in too many thoughts. Being here, beside him, made it hard to keep mine in check.
I shifted slightly, letting my arm brush against his. The touch was feather-light but intentional. I didn’t look at him right away, but I felt that spark crackle low in my belly. The kind of feelingthat made everything else fall away. I let the moment stretch, and let the quiet pull tighter between us. Reed didn’t move, but I could feel the way he stilled. Like he noticed the shift in the air, too.
I turned fully, letting go of my legs and then, my heart thudding a little faster, and scooted closer until our shoulders pressed together. “You okay?” I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes flicked toward me, and that small, crooked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
