Page 10 of Requiem
Adriana.
I don’t know how long she’s been standing there. Likely long enough to see me break. As I approach, her eyes find mine in the pale light. They’re dark and...haunted. She doesn’t bother smiling as she looks up into my face. She knows exactly what she just walked in on.
Shelivedit.
My chest twists at that. For a second, I see it differently. Not just what Jude has become, but what she’s beenstanding next tothis whole time. What she survived and had to watch. My throat tightens, because I want to ask her. I want to know everything. What he was like. What they did to him.
Not now.
I don’t have it in me to hear it right now. My body is crashing, demanding I get some rest. The silence stretches between us, filled with everything neither of us is saying. We’ve been in each other’s lives for almost five years now, in close proximity for most of that time. And I’ve never really seen her like this. Not even when I’d occasionally comfort her after Nolan raped her. She told me not to ever tell Jude about it, even though he knew. It was hardnotto know.
Her arms tighten around herself, but she doesn’t move or speak. She just watches me, almost like she’s empathizing with me.
I swallow hard, forcing my shoulders back, locking everything down piece by piece. My head shakes once, a quietdon’t.
Her lips part like she might say something anyway, but I don’t give her the chance.
I tear my gaze away as I brush past her, close enough to feel the tremor in her arms. She’s freezing, but still, she doesn’t follow me inside. Neither of us says a word as I pull the door open and step into the warmth. My shaky legs carry me through the living room and straight for the stairs. Halfway up, I hesitate, glancing back. She’s still there. Standing exactly where I left her, arms wrapped around herself, staring out into the darkness beyond the trees. I don’t have the strength to deal with her.
Tomorrow.
I’ll talk to her tomorrow.
I stop in front of our bedroom door, my hand lingering on the handle. My chest feels tired from breaking down. When I walk in, I see that Heather’s in our bed now. She’s propped against the headboard, blanket pulled up to her waist, hair loose over her shoulders. She looks at me the second I come in.
“You’re back,” she says quietly.
“Yeah.” My voice is steady enough. I drag a hand over my face, wanting to rid the evidence of what just happened to me out there. “Just needed some air.”
She studies me. “Micah.”
“I’m fine,” I say automatically, already moving past her line of sight toward the dresser. If I keep moving, if I keep talking, maybe it’ll help. “Long day. That’s all. Uh, when did you come into our room? Is Emma still sleeping?”
She tilts her head. “I stayed with her until she fell asleep. She was crying a lot seeing him like that.”
“Yeah, well, he woke up,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair.
Her jaw drops open. “He did?”
I nod. “He’s in fucking horrible shape, Heather. I don’t know what to do. He’s...genuinely lost it. I think that maybe…” I pause, hating what I’m about to say. “Adriana could be right.”
There’s a pause.
“Come to bed.”
I let out a breath that nearly turns into a sob and shrug out of my shirt, tossing it aside. My hands are slower than usual as I strip down. I haven’t cried that hard since I thought Jude was dying in front of me not too long ago. I pull on a pair of sweatpants, fingers fumbling at the waistband for a second before I get it right.
I don’t look at her as I move toward the bed. If I do, I’ll break again, and I don’t have anything left to hold myself together with. I really don’t. I’ve been a useless friend to him. Sure, I’d comfort him and be there to help him sort out his demons in the middle of the night.
But I didn’tsavehim.
I slide under the blankets beside Heather, facing away at first out of habit more than intention.
She doesn’t give me time to build that wall. She tugs me around so I’m facing her now, her hand coming up to the back of my head. Her fingers thread gently into my hair, nails grazing my scalp in slow, steady strokes that immediately calm me.
“Hey,” she murmurs.
I swallow hard, my throat tight in a way that makes it difficult to answer. “I’m okay,” I try again, softer this time.
