So many memories echo in my mind.
My phone lights up on the counter with a message, and fear shoots through me. I know it can’t be Kyle, since I blocked him, but the feeling comes anyway. Then I see it’s from Noah. Seeing his name gives me a moment of reprieve from the darkness chasing me, but it’s short-lived.
Blue:Working late tonight. Zeke called off, and Aiden’s got Rose. I can’t leave Jules on their own. I hope you’re okay. I miss you. If you go to bed before I’m home, imagine me kissing you goodnight x
I stare at the screen. Part of me is relieved. I won’t have to pretend I’m fine, won’t have to risk him seeing how frayed I am right now. I don’t want him to see all the ugly, jagged parts of me. He won’t want me if he knows how deep it all goes. He won’t smile at me anymore, he won’t hold me like I’m special to him.
Another part of me aches at the thought of him not coming home yet, though. I want him here. I want to hear his voice and feel his arms and let his warmth drown out the darkness suffocating me. He brings me a comfort I’ve never known, and selfishly, I want to keep that. I want to keephim.
I should have told him about the text. I shared so much with him last night, but for some reason, I just couldn’t say the words. Telling him about it would be like bringing Kyle into our present in real time. The past is one thing, but he shouldn’t be in our now.
I sit on the couch, bringing one knee up to my chest, and stare at the blank TV screen until my reflection blurs. I keep picturing sitting on a different couch, a different man facing me, arms folded, staring me down. The air would get so thick in those silences, like even breathing too loud might set him off.
My stomach roils. I grip my knee tight until my fingers hurt. I hate that a single message can make it feel like he’s here. A knock at the door makes me flinch so hard my heart jumps into my throat.
“Gabe?” Abbie’s voice floats through the wood. I rake my hands through my hair and tug roughly. I forgot they were coming over for dinner.
I consider lying on the sofa and pretending I’m not here, but they have a key, and if I don’t answer, they’ll worry. I force myself up and open the door. She’s standing there with her curls piled on top of her head, thick-framed leopard print glasses today, and a casserole dish in her hands. Ciarán is right behind her.
“Dinner time, Gabey,” he announces cheerily. “Homemade. You’re welcome.”
I step back automatically to let them in. I can’t even find the words to say hello. My throat feels like it’s closing up.
“Is Noah joining us?” Ciarán asks while peering down the hall, toeing off his boots as he passes. I stare at his them, they’ve landed haphazardly among the others there.
I shake my head at him, eyes fixed on the pile of shoes. I realize someone has been saying my name. When I whip my head up to them, I’m sure I look exactly how I feel: wild-eyed and panicked.
Abbie studies me, her brows pinching like she can see all the horrid pieces of me I’m trying to hide. She doesn’t push. She heads to the kitchen to slide the dish into the oven while Ciarán leans back against the island, crossing his arms and giving me an appraising look.
“You look like shit,” he says gently. “Sit down.”
His bluntness startles a laugh out of me; it sounds unhinged, and he herds me toward the couch. He sits beside me, and his smile is softer now. I know he only said that to get a reaction from me. That’s Ciarán. He acts snarky at times, but it’s all a front. His hand slips into mine, and the relief of it makes tears spring to my eyes.
By the time Abbie joins us, the apartment is starting to smell like basil and roasted garlic.
“Tell us what’s going on,” Abbie says, soft but direct.
I stare at the coffee table and rub my thumb over an uneven patch in the wood.
“I… didn’t sleep much.” My thumb presses against the wood until it hurts. “Nightmares again. Woke up a few times. Couldn’t get out of my own head.” I let out a shuddering breath and stare at my hands. “I still can’t.”
Abbie waits me out, she’s good at that, and suddenly, it comes out. I share more than I have in a long time. The way the panic feels like it’s suffocating me, overwhelming me. How Noah stayed with me, holding me. I don’t tell them about the text from Kyle, it feels wrong to speak about it. Like if I say it out loud, it’s real.
“And now,” I finish, hating the way my voice wavers as other fears come out. “I keep thinking, what if it’s too much? What if Noah doesn’t want someone who wakes him up in the middle of the night, like that. Why wouldanybodywant that…” I let go of Ciarán’s hand to scrub at my eyes, silently begging the tears to retreat. I’m so sick of crying, of being so miserable.
Ciarán is quiet for once, elbow on the back of the couch, intense eyes on me. Abbie doesn’t look away. “Gabe, I have watched Noah look at you—at brunch, at the store, that day he hauled all your deliveries in when he should have already left for work.” She leans forward. “He’s not going anywhere.”
A weak laugh slips out of me. “That day was ridiculous.”
“Sexy ridiculous, that man can really wear the hell out of a muscle tee,” she says with the kind of seriousness that makes my lips twitch. “Let’s stay on topic.”
“Seconded,” Ciarán murmurs, resting his chin in his hand. Then he straightens, unusually serious. “And I’m saying this with more care than I put into my skincare routine, but have you reconsidered talking to someone? Like, a therapist. Not instead of us—but in addition. You shouldn’t have to white-knuckle your way through the night. I know when we talked about it last year, you said you didn’t want to speak to a stranger.” He clears his throat, considering his words. “But, Gabe, it’s been over a year now… you’re struggling.”
There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. The wordtherapisthangs in the air like a noose. Their eyes are on me. The weight of the attention makes my pulse hammer harder, and I have to force myself not to reach for my scar. I can’t tell a stranger all the awful things I haven’t even been able to admit to the people I love, I just can’t. Panic is rising just at the thought, and I feel faint.
Abbie must see it all because her voice is gentle. “You don’t have to answer. Just think about it.”
I manage a jerky nod. My voice doesn’t even sound like mine when I get words out. “Yeah. I’ll… think about it.”
