Page 180 of Requiem
Beside me, Micah sits with one arm resting near the open window, absently loosening the knot of his tie for the third time in ten minutes.
“You know,” I mutter, glancing over briefly. “Heather is going to see you all dressed up and want to marry you on the spot.”
Micah snorts softly. “I’m actually going to propose to her next month when I take her to Chicago. I was gonna tell you.”
My heart squeezes. “I’m so proud of you, man.”
“Thank you, Jude.”
“Have the ring picked out?”
“Sure do,” he chuckles. “I know she’ll love it. It’s this big pink diamond I know she likes.”
I smile at that. Heatherwouldlike a pink diamond. “She will.”
By the time I pull into the overlook, the sun is bathing everything in gold so intense it almost hurts to look at directly. The ocean stretches endlessly below, with large waves crashing against the cliffs. Fuck, this place smells like all of the fun and beautiful memories from when I was a teenager.
“You ready for this?” Micah asks quietly.
“Yeah.”
I step out first, dress shoes crunching softly against the ground before I move toward the edge of the cliffs overlooking the ocean. Wind tears through my hair and suit jacket, colder out here than I expected.
Micah follows, leaving the passenger door ajar.“Moonchild”by M83 drifts softly from inside the car, mixing with crashing waves and wind in a way that makes everything feel strangely unreal.
I stop near the edge, and for a while, neither of us says anything.
Micah’s shoulder brushes mine gently, and suddenly I’m remembering another night entirely. Two shaking bodies curled together in a hotel bed while withdrawal tore through us so bad we couldn’t stop crying. My hands were gripping the back of his shirt while he buried his face against my chest, both of us sweating and freezing at the same time.
I remember whispering over and over:
We’re gonna get through this.
We’re okay. We’re okay.
Even though neither of us actually believed it.
Another flash hits me immediately after. Another hotel room, months later. The one with the dim yellow lamp and half-empty pill bottles scattered across the nightstand while both of us sat silently on opposite sides of the bed. We were so tired, high, and too fucking destroyed to keep pretending anymore.
I still remember the way Micah looked at me that night. It was like he was asking permission. Wanted me to tell him not to do it. And I remember taking too much with him anyway. The memory twists so sharply through my chest that I close my eyes briefly against the wind.
“I still think about that night often,” Micah says suddenly beside me, so quietly I almost miss it.
I glance over.
His gaze stays fixed on the ocean. “The hotel,” he clarifies softly. “The overdose.”
My throat tightens instantly. “Yeah,” I admit. “I was actually just thinking about that.”
“Of course you were,” he whispers. “I think about it a lot. Especially quiet moments. Or moments where I’m staring at Heather, wondering how the fuck I got so lucky. How I almostmissedthis.” Wind lashes wildly across the cliffs, tossing his shoulder-length blonde hair across his forehead while the music continues drifting softly from the car behind us. He exhales slowly through his nose. “I used to be angry that we woke up. That Adriana called the ambulance.”
The honesty in his voice doesn’t wound me anymore. Maybe because I’ve spent a year learning how to stop running from the truth.
“I know,” I say quietly.
Another silence stretches, then he looks at me.
Emotion lodges painfully beneath my ribs. “I should’ve protected you better,” I whisper before I can stop myself. The words disappear instantly into the wind.
