Chase:Doesn’t feel safe to answer that.
I tap my feet, fidget in place, choking on the smoke-tinged air.
Me:I can be your safe space. You feel like mine.
Chase:I know. That’s why it doesn’t feel safe.
Tension wraps around me. Sinks deep.
My heart is beating a mile a minute, my limbs putty, thoughts askew.
It’s time to say good night.
Me:I should get to bed. If you’re near a window, look at the moon. It’s a floating sliver of honey.
Chase:I’m out on the patio. I see it.
Me:Honeymoon phase.??
Chase:Here for it.
Embers singe my fingers, and I flick the charred stub to the ground, watching the orange glow disappear, leaving only the faint smell of burnt tobacco.
I glance back at the phone.
Me:Good night, Chase.
A final text pings.
Chase:Good night.
I set the phone on my lap, staring at the cinder’s ghost curling into the night. The air is thick with summer, warm and quiet, but my skin prickles like I’ve walked into something dangerous.
I shouldn’t have texted him. Shouldn’t have let the conversation drift into uncharted territory. But I wanted the weight of his words, wanted to feel something other than this restless ache in my chest.
I drag my hands down my face, exhaling hard.
Pushing up from the chair, I step inside, detouring to the kitchen for a napkin, a pen, and a few aimless lines I’ll probably trash by morning.
Ticking clocks don’t sing
They warn
Darling, do you hear the horn?
It’s time to run
To break, to bend
Or sit and mourn the bitter end
Back in my room, I delete the text string and climb into bed.
Chapter 21Chase
“Need a favor.”
I glance up from Tag’s couch, half focused on the song I’m playing and half watching Toaster sniff around the room for stray crumbs. “A favor?”
