Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
JUDE GRAVES
The moment I slide in beside Micah, I feel like I’m going to fucking collapse. My mind is scattered. My heart is bleeding. My breathing is shallow, but I try my best to mask it. Micah’s eyes lock with mine, like he’s silently telling me he loves me. That he’s here for me.
“She’s really something,” he says quietly, careful not to do anything to detonate the bomb that is me right now.
“I know,” I mutter, staring out the window.
The night rushes by in blurs of silver light and endless dark.
I can still see Emma’s eyes when she said those fucking lyrics.
Our song. We always used to speak those words to let each other know we were there during times of heartache or stress.
The part of me that used to believe in anything good feels like it’s caving in.
I clench my jaw and force my focus on the reflection of who I am now in the glass. Hollow eyes. Tired skin. Someone else’s monster staring back. The rest of the ride is silent. Micah’s thumb taps a slow rhythm against his thigh. I count every breath, trying not to drown in the quiet.
When we finally reach the house, we get out of the car silently. The air’s colder now, signaling that fall is just around the corner. Micah walks beside me, close enough that our arms brush.
When we reach the hallway outside the bedroom, he stops and looks at me. “You okay?”
I let out a low, humorless laugh. “No.”
He nods once. “Yeah. Me neither.”
I toe off my boots and sink down onto the edge of the bed, burying my face in my hands. The smell of that studio is still on my skin. Her smell. God, paint will always remind me of her.
Micah sits beside me, shoulder to shoulder. He doesn’t say anything. He never has to. That’s the thing about us...when there’s nothing left to say, we just breathe through it together.
For a long time, that’s all we do.
Just breathe.
Finally, I collapse back onto the mattress. My pulse is still hammering, my thoughts spinning. I close my eyes and see her. Standing in the light of that studio, with those honey brown eyes looking up at me.
“I don’t deserve her,” I whisper.
Micah turns his head toward me, voice quiet. “Maybe not. But you loved her, right? That counts for something.”
I huff a breath that sounds too close to a sob. “She basically told me she still loves me tonight, man.”
He hums. “You don’t believe her?”
“I believe her,” I murmur, staring at the ceiling. “That’s the fucking problem.”
Micah doesn’t reply. He just reaches over and flicks off the lamp. The room sinks into a comforting darkness. For the first time in a while, I let myself break in the quiet. The tears come slow, hot, and silent. Micah stays still, pretending not to hear.
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 a single flicker 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 the kitchen, 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’ll find 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. Really fucking 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.
I will.
With her.
Just once was all it took. Seeing her again has rewired something inside me and sparked the part I thought was long dead.
She smiles then. “I’ll see you later, then.”
And I nod, even though every instinct in me screams that this is dangerous. Because for the first time since walking away from her years ago, I feel like I’m finally doing something that just might save my life.
Micah and I sit in a corner booth of the café, away from the glass windows, the smell of espresso and cinnamon twisting my stomach.
He scrolls his phone lazily, his sunglasses perched low on his nose. “You look lost in thought,” he says.
“Maybe I am.” I stab at the ice in my drink with the straw. “I want to get the fuck out of their clutches, Micah.”
His head snaps up, eyes narrowing. “Out? Is that what you really wanna work towards, man?”
“Yeah. I’m done being their puppet. Nolan, Adriana. Now Alexei. That fucking guy I don’t know anything about yet. I don’t care. I want out.”
He leans forward, lowering his voice. “And how the hell do you plan to do that? I get that you saw your ex and now you’re suddenly inspired and all, but we’ve been trapped for years.
We’ve tried leaving before, if you remember.
And look how that turned out. We’ve even tried fucking killing ourselves and that didn’t work. ”