The shuffle of feetdown the hallway has me curling up into a tighter ball beneath the blankets.
I recognize the steps. The sound of Tristen’s socked feet on the worn carpet.
It’s not the first time I’ve laid in Hatley’s bed and listened to him walk the path to this room, his gait tired, his breathing caged.
I know it’s because he’s worn out, but that doesn’t stop my body from processing it as a danger.
Doesn’t stop me from flinching when he pushes the door open softly, steps inside and whispers my name.
There’s something about it tonight though that sounds … desperate.
Just like it did the second night of Hatley’s detox.
“Bub, please tell me you’re still with me.”
My stomach twists up.
I want to pretend I’m asleep. Ignore him. He’ll find me in his own time and ease whatever’s inside his mind without my involvement.
But I …can’t.
“I’m dead and you’re in hell,” I whisper from behind my blanket barrier and the breath of relief that flies out of him is so loud, it sounds like a groan.
“Fuck, bub.” He collapses beside me in the bed, curling up around me. He’s close. So close that he’s almost touching me, but not. “Hell’s colder than I thought.”
My stomach flitters.
“How was it?” I ask for no reason at all.
He lets loose another sigh and shoves an arm beneath his head, finding my gaze amongst the fabric and holds it.
“I thought about you all fucking night.”
“Why?” I blurt to his forehead. His temple is damp with sweat, his hair stringing into his eyes.
“I …” He licks his lips, and I wait. “I just couldn’t wait to see you.”
That’s a lie.
I can see it in the way his brow twitches and his lips flatten.
Was he worried he’d find me dead?
Because I wanted to be.
Most of the night, I stared at the wall right behind his head, facing the doorway, waiting.
It was quiet here without them.
Somehowtoo quieteven with the ceiling fan that Tristen never turns off and the hum of the bulb over the stove in the kitchen. The chirp of bugs braving the elements in the night just outside the window.
My house never had open windows.
“Emmett.”
It’s thick the way he says my name, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
“Yeah?” I whisper back so quietly, it’s almost like I didn’t say anything at all.
