His head falls, and he lets out a labored breath. “Life,” he says. “It wore me down, I guess.”
“Yeah, I get that.” And I do. I understand how the ugliness of the world can make it feel impossible to believe in anything good. To believe that there is someone greater than you watching you, aiding you, rooting for you. But…
“There is,” I say firmly. Jake lifts his head and my eyes drift back to the sky. “There is a God up there, watching over all of us. I don’t know how I know, or where the idea even came from, but I just…know, you know? It’s just one of those things. Like how I know there are stars beyond those clouds, or how high the moon will always be. He’s up there, trying to make sure we make the right choices. Stay on the right path that leads us home. He wants the best for us. It’s just…” I pause, lost for a second in my own memories. “It’s us who mess it up.”
Jake lets out a low hum, almost thoughtfully. His shoulder lifts in the smallest shrug with his breath, but his eyes stay on me now, steady and unreadable in the gold wash of the alley light.
“Home,” he repeats quietly, like he’s testing the word on his tongue, trying to remember what it tastes like. “What if a person doesn’t know where that is anymore?”
I turn my head to him and my chest tightens a little at the honesty in his eyes.
“Then they keep going until they do,” I say. “Until something or someone feels like a sign. Might take a few miles, but…” I shrug. “You always have to keep going or you’ll miss it.”
“Miss what?”
My eyes move back to the stars, an unknown feeling beginning to stir in my chest. “Everything,” I breathe.
My eyes meet his again, and a faint smile tugs at his lips—barely there, but enough to shift the air between us.
“You really believe that?” he asks.
“I have to.” My voice comes out softer than I expect. “Otherwise, none of this makes sense. The hurt you have to live through. The detours we end up on. The nights like these with a sky full of stars you can’t see.”
He studies me for a long moment, his expression softening in a way that makes me instinctively look away. But I feel him watching, the weight of his silence settling like a blanket over my shoulders.
“I think everyone gets lost sometimes. Things get scary. We make mistakes.” I swallow hard. “But I think we get a chance at redemption. Maybe endless chances. We just have to find the right, I don’t know, road, I guess. But maybe they’reallthe right roads.”
“That’s one hell of a philosophy, Plato,” he says playfully, and I release a breathy laugh. “But maybe you’re right. I thought I just needed a break from everything inside, but…”
He shifts a little from side to side, landing him closer to me. Close enough that his warmth radiates off him. “You’re making me think maybe I was supposed to need that break.”
My breath catches. I hope he doesn’t hear it, though the alley is far too quiet for much to go unnoticed.
“I think we all end up exactly where we’re meant to be,” I say, barely above a whisper.
Jake’s eyes flick up to the sky again, then down to me. “Yeah,” he says. “Maybe.”
Neither of us moves. Neither of us speaks.
The city noise blurs into something far away and unimportant.
Then Jake nudges me gently with his shoulder. It’s light, warm, grounding. Familiar and friendly in a way that shouldn’t make sense but feels perfectly placed.
“Tell you what,” he says. “If God really is up there then maybe tonight is Him finally throwing me a bone.”
I blink at him in confusion. “What does that mean?”
His smile widens into a crooked, secretive grin that does dangerous things to my heart.
“It means…” He hesitates, eyes dropping to my lips for half a second, just long enough to make my head feel light. “It means I’m glad you stepped away from the madness when you did.”
My cheeks warm, and my heart flutters in my chest. His eyes linger on mine longer than they should. He releases a quiet huff, looking down to his feet before his eyes rise up again with a ghost of a smile on his lips.
“I’m heading out,” he says. “You going back to the madness?” he asks playfully, and I nod in response.
“Yeah. Lia, um… My friend is waiting for me.”
He dips his chin in understanding. Then, almost reluctantly, he offers, “Good night, Alana.” He smiles, and my skin prickles from the sound of my name on his lips.
