“Please. Stay,” I add.
“Soldier, are you begging?”
“Pleading.”
Her gaze is a tease, tempting. “It’s like you’re obsessed with me or something.”
“Or something,” I murmur, fighting the urge to fist that sweatshirt and pull her closer.
“Okay,” she says.
“Okay?”
I bet that bottom lip between her teeth tastes like a fix I’d never get enough of. But,God, I’d like to try.
Hannah smiles. “I’ll stay.”
22
me too, mom
Hannah - now
The silence feels like a tomb.
Rowan’s house felt safe. It didn’t matter there was no furniture or the dining room chandelier flickered like a creepy horror film every time we laughed too hard or stared at each other a beat too long. The air was pure oxygen—uncontaminated by memory sparks of dark parking lots and the phantom scent of gin and sweat.
I could have stayed. He asked me to. But it was after midnight and my head wasn’t in a place to navigate what would come next if I did.
Except now I’m home. And home is quiet.Tooquiet.
The air here presses in from all sides, thick and haunting.Suffocating.
Denial carries me through my nighttime routine.
Wash my face.Ignore the silence; it’s not there.
Pajamas.It’s only the normal kind of quiet.
Check the locks.Stop worrying.
Glass of water.You’re just tired—imagining things.
Check the locks again.Sleep it off.
As I climb into bed, my phone lights up with a text.
Rowan
Did you make it home?
For half a second, I consider telling him everything—my hands are trembling and I’m scared.
But that’s ridiculous because I’m fine. Deadbolts are secured. I’m the only one here. My neighborhood is extremely safe.
I’m. Fine.
Me