Cassian’s head snaps up. “Alone? No.”
“I’m not going far. I just need… air. Two minutes.”
“We shouldn’t split up,” he says.
“I… I can’t breathe, okay?”
He doesn’t look convinced.
“I’ll go with her,” Nathaniel says suddenly.
I glance at him, and he’s already hanging his backpack on the wall opposite Mark. Cassian nods, and I open the door and step out before I suffocate.
The night hits my face like a bucket of cold water. The air smells like damp concrete and someone’s terrible cologne, but it might be the most refreshing thing I’ve ever felt.
The relief is just… instant.
I walk a few paces down the walkway, hands shoved into my pockets, and notice two crows sitting on the sagging roof across from our room.
I stop to watch them for a while, and a moment later, Nathaniel joins me.
He says nothing, just stands there.
“Sorry to bother you,” I say. “You probably wanted to shower already, or something.”
He breathes out quietly.
“Skye,” he says. “You don’t bother me.”
He says that, but I know he’s a clean freak. He’s a lot of kinds of freak, but hygiene is definitely one of them.
“Yeah. Sure…”
He doesn’t respond. In fact, he doesn’t look at me. He just stares into the expanse of darkness in front of us. We’ve been driving for nearly twenty hours. We’re all dead tired. And here I am, dragging him out for air because Cassian wouldn’t let me go alone.
“Do you think I’m weak?” I ask.
I don’t even know where the question comes from, but it does. The moment it’s out, I know I need the answer.
And I know Nathaniel’s the type to hide a lot from the world, so I turn my whole body toward him, searching for anything—any twitch, any hesitation. If he lies to me, I want to catch it.
Nathaniel turns his head just enough for the neon light to catch the edge of his profile.
“I think you’re carrying something no one else here can understand,” he says. “That’s all.”
For all my suspicion, there’s nothing in his expression that suggests deception.
And it’s a little… strange to accept. Because just look at him… He’s like a master at reining in emotions.
“I’ve treated people who were hurt by others,” he continues. “And every time, they told me their injuries weren’t just physical. The same goes for you.”
I swallow.
Right. The doctor past.
“Do you ever miss it?” I ask. “Being a doctor?”
He seems surprised by the question, but then he exhales through his nose and relaxes a little more against the railing.
