And somewhere between the ache in my chest and the weight in my bones, I truly wish I had died that last time. Because I wouldn’t be putting her in danger. It’s dangerous to let myself near her again. But after seven years in the dark, even asingleflicker of light feels like something I’m too weak to turn away from. My girl’s stubborn anyway, and even if it’s one of my favorite things about her, I really fucking hope it doesn’t kill her.
I must have cried every last bit of my bullshit out last night, because I wake up feeling...lighter. Not fixed or renewed, but just alive in a way I haven’t felt in too damn long. The room is still dim, early light barely scraping across the floorboards. Micah’s still knocked out beside me, dead to the world. One of his arms dangles off the mattress, fingers grazing the rug, his back rising slowly and steadily. His blonde hair is messy as always. I don’t mind the company. It’s almost comforting, in a pathetic sort of way.
The air is cold when I swing my legs out of bed, and my bones feel stiff, like I’m waking up in someone else’s body. I pad to thekitchen, the floor cool beneath my feet. The moment I hit the button on the coffee maker, the scent rises. It fills my senses as I stand at the window, staring out at the dunes. They look washed out in the morning haze, a pale, rolling landscape that feels a million miles from everything I actually am.
My hand won’t stop shaking. The tremor starts in my fingers and climbs up my arm, a warning I’m too used to ignoring. I open the coffee table drawer and pull out the black case. That soft little click when it opens is something my body reacts to before my mind does. I tap out a couple of oxys, swallow them dry, then chase the chalky aftertaste with a sip of scorching coffee. Pills and caffeine. My tried-and-true breakfast for years now. Unfortunately.
Maybe it was seeing Emma last night. Maybe it was the sleep. Or perhaps I’m just riding the afterglow of breaking down like a goddamn child. But I feel...alright today. Almost embarrassed, realizing how I’ve been stumbling around her like some sad idiot. My life is a whole carousel of drugs, shows, manipulation, and death...but that’s the normal I’ve made peace with. Mostly.
Still, I know myself. I’m going back to see her. Especially after she recited our lyrics last night. That did something to me—something I can’t shake off. And part of me hates myself for it. But it doesn’t matter at this point. If I don’t go to her...she’llfind me. Even after all this time, we’ll find each other. I honestly feel like that’s our fate. But whether it’s a blessing or a curse...I’m not sure yet.
The Audi growls when I start it. We don’t talk much on the drive since Micah’s higher than shit. He fiddles with the radio until something soft plays in the background, and for once, silence doesn’t bother me. I roll the window down halfway. Wind cuts through my hair, and I can’t help but smile. The morning sun catches the edges of the dashboard, painting everything in gold. By the time we pull up to the studio, my chest feels too tight. Perhaps it’s from the oxy. Or I’m nervous.
Micah glances at me, his eyes glassy. “You sure about this?”
No. But I nod anyway.
Inside, the studio is quiet and smells like vanilla. Just like her. Emma’s sitting behind the desk in the open area, pen moving across a notebook. Her long brown hair’s braided over one shoulder, and she’s wearing jeans and a baggy green sweater. For a second, I just stand there.
Then she looks up.
Her beautiful eyes find mine, and I swear the whole world stops. They widen in disbelief, like she really thought that last night was the last she’d see of me.
“Hey,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Her lips part, but no sound comes out.
Micah nudges me gently, grinning.
I can’t help it. I’m smiling.Reallyfucking smiling. For the first time in too long.
Emma finally blinks, pushing back from the desk. “Jude? What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to come see you.” My throat feels tight. “I think the charcoal shit really helped. I woke up feeling pretty good today.”
She stands slowly, her eyes darting between Micah and me. “Pretty good?” she asks softly. “How so?”
I nod once. “Yeah. Just...I don’t know.”
Her brows knit together, relief flashing across her face. “Well, that’s great to hear, actually.”
“No nightmares, either. He slept through the night without waking me up. He jolts a lot in his sleep,” Micah cuts in with that easy grin. “Nice to see you again, Emma.”
Her expression softens instantly, and I know she can tell how high he is. “You too, Micah.” She smiles.
She looks at me again. “My last client today leaves at five.” There’s a beat of silence before she adds, a little hesitant, “Can I see you then?”
My heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s shaking my ribs. I can’t breathe right, can’t think straight. “That’s fine. I’ll be back.”
Her brows rise, the faintest trace of humor flitting across her face. “Can I expect you too, Micah?”
He’s already shaking his head, fast. “No, I’ll be at the house. Think you guys should, uh, talk.”
I catch the flicker of pink that climbs up her neck, settling in her cheeks, and it completely floors me. That small, human reaction. I’d forgotten what it looked like on her.
And just like that, I’m lost again. I’m a kid with a goddamn crush all over again. Our old lyrics loop in my head.
Escape. Escape. Escape.