Like a haunting.
But he won’t walk through the door again.
Not ever.
“Truth be told,” I whisper, “since Blake left…”
He inhales sharply, but he lets me speak.
He always lets me speak.
“I’ve tossed and turned every night, crying, drinking, aching. Missing the shape of someone beside me. But with you…with you holding my hand last night…I slept.”
Silence.
Thick.
Sacred.
“I miss you too, Penn,” he finally says, voice rough. “One night, and I saw it what forever with you might feel like.”
Forever.
The word hits like a blow and a balm.
“Can we have more nights like that?” he asks.
My chest tightens.
Hope hurts.
“Dane…” I whisper.
“Don’t overthink it,” he chuckles softly, saving me from myself.
“Good night, Dane,” I murmur.
“Good night, beautiful.”
His voice lingers long after the line disconnects, warm, steady, dangerous in all the right ways.
For a long moment, I lie there, phone pressed to my chest, breathing around the ache he leaves behind. My house feels different. My body feels different. My heart feels… awake.
I could sleep.
I should sleep.
But I don’t.
I push the sheets away, reach for my laptop.
The screen blooms blue in the dark.
A new document. A blinking cursor. A confession waiting to be written.
I type the title.
Kiss Me with Lies: The Art of Catfishing.
