Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
A whisper, barely there. “Hey.” Then, quieter still, “Jameson.”
It’s not the sound that wakes me. It’s the brush of fingertips along my arm, tentative but enough to pull me to the surface.
I blink, shapes bleeding into each other until the shadows peel back and I’m staring into familiar grey. “Carson?” My voice cracks around his name, and he leans back just enough to give me space as I push up against the couch.
“Yeah.” His pitch is low, but the edges are filled by something gruff. “Think you passed out during whatever was on.” A nod toward the other end. “He did too.”
Reese. Slack-limbed and snoring.
I’m not surprised I crashed. Not after the day I had and the night that preceded it. I just didn’t think it’d happen here. The clock blinks 2:35 a.m. in the dark.
I track Carson as he nudges Reese awake, and a thought sticks, unshakeable.
Did he just get in?
Reese comes to faster than I did, muttering what sounds like curses as he stumbles himself toward the stairs like it’s not his first rodeo. It probably isn’t. Aspen and Dylan are nowhere to be seen, gone sometime during Fight Club or after the credits rolled.
The room feels bigger without everyone in it. Moonlight slips through the glass, silver hitting Carson just right. As our eyes connect, I place what I was hearing in him.
Exhaustion.
Something lurches in my chest, a recognition of sorts.
“Did you eat?”
It’s out before I can stop it. Maybe because I can’t shake the image of him earlier—walking out in the middle of the kitchen chaos after his phone rang, then pacing abrupt lines on the deck.
Inside, the others glanced at each other but didn’t say a word. Not when he came back in. Not when he vanished upstairs. Not when he returned with Hannah asleep in his arms and let the front door close behind him with a faint click.
Now, he’s quiet, but the exhaustion cracks, giving way to something heavier. His fingers twitch, then curl at his side.
“If you didn’t, there’s leftovers in the fridge.” I don’t know why my voice drops to a whisper. I guess it’s because whatever he’s carrying right now… it feels fragile. Like the wrong volume could break it.
He must clue in, because in one practiced sweep his expression clears. “Come on.” He grabs my bag and moves for the door. “I’ll walk you. Your mom’s probably worried.”
I’m slow to stand, running a hand down the length of my hair. Yeah…this is going to take some getting used to. “Doubt it. She told me not to expect her or my dad tonight.”
His sudden stop halts me too.
“What?” I ask.
He twists his neck, just enough for me to glimpse the ninety-degree angle of his jaw. “You gonna be alone then?”
“Yes…”
He turns in full, brows slamming together. “In that massive place?” His lips twist, harsh at the corners. “No.”
What does he mean no? I blink up at him, but there’s not an ounce of give.
“I’ll be fine, Carson. I’ve stayed there alone before, it’s not a big deal.”
Before the words even land, I regret it. His whole frame goes rigid, and the single word he throws back is more bite than question. “When.”
I hesitate.
“Brielle.” Harsher now, a crack of sound that rings like a warning bell.
Cornered, I let it tumble fast. “The night Reese got jumped.”
Silence. The suffocating kind. I don’t even realise I’m clutching my midriff until he follows the motion. Only then does some of the storm ebb, if only by an inch.
“You’re staying here.”
It’s not a suggestion. And I’m not eager to poke at it, but… “Carson.” The sigh escapes anyway. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the concern, I do, I really do, but he’s overreacting. I stretch my hand. “Give me my bag. Please?”
He must see reason because, surprisingly, he does. “Tha—”
The rest dies on my tongue. His hand closes around my other, guiding me toward the stairs. My mind stumbles back to the night we met. His grip was exactly like this. Anchoring.
Even as a stranger, in the dead of the night, he’d felt warm to me. And now, with all that’s passed between us? It’s odd, but I feel… safe around him. Completely so.
Only when we reach his room does reality break the spell. I pull away. “Carson.” No matter how hard I try, I can’t make out his face in the dark. “Trust me, I’ll be okay.”
An aggravated sigh, the drag of footsteps and then—click. Golden light illuminates the fierce set of his features. “No. You’re staying here. I’ll take the couch.”
“Carson.” I take a backward step. “I don’t want to put you out.” Especially not when he looks drained.
“Jameson. There’s been two robberies nearby this week. You’re not staying alone.”
That gives me pause. Isn’t Grove supposed to be safe?
He catches the falter and moves in fast.
“You’d be doing me more of a favor than I am for you. If you leave, I’ll spend the whole night worrying. And I’m fucking tired, Brielle, so do me this one thing and stay.” The bite in his voice dulls, his eyes darting between mine.“You’ve got nothing to worry about around me.”
My throat is thick. “Okay.” He does have a point. “I’m taking the couch though.”
“No.”
“Yes,” I level with him. “You said it yourself, you’re tired. There’s no way you’re not getting a good night’s sleep on the couch.” The crick in my neck can attest to that.
He drags a hand down his face and the motion lags under the shake of his head. “I’m not going in circles with you, Jameson. Bed’s big enough. We’ll both take it. Yeah?”
I don’t mean to pause, but I do—and Carson reads it wrong. His nod is final. “I’m sleeping downstairs.”
“No, no. It’s not that,” I blurt. “I’m fine with you, but…” My weight shifts back on my heels. “Are you fine with me? I don’t want you thinking I’m trying anything—” I stop short, but the memory of my first night lodges between us anyway.
He’s tenser now.
“I know you’re not coming onto me, Jameson. I’m the one who offered. We good?”
Okay.
My nod isn’t even full before he’s disappearing behind the bathroom door. An exhale shakes loose and I can’t put a finger on it, but I feel… odd. It’s a feeling that’s been threading through me since the boardwalk.
I try to shrug it off, letting my eyes drift around the room. Everything is spotless. My mind flickers back to the first time I was here—standing over broken glass while Carson loomed in the doorway. It hasn’t been that long, not really, but somehow everything feels different.
Carson and I are friends now. I have a whole different look. New ties are forming, while old ones fade to dust. Every day brings some new shift, and I’m terrified for the one that doesn’t.
The day everything stops.
When I stop.
My palms are slick when Carson returns. He’s traded track pants for athletic shorts, and his attention prickles again.
“You want me to get you clothes?”
“Please.” I need out of this denim.
In the bathroom, with the door shut, the thoughts find me again. Of course they do; there’s no avoiding them when I’m staring straight at my own reflection.
It’s strange. Strange, strange, strange.
Who am I even looking at?
I splash cold water on my face once, twice. Brown eyes. Brown hair. A clash of rainbow bracelets against bronzed skin. “You’ll be okay,” I whisper. “You’ll be okay, Brielle.”
I wish I could say I leave the bathroom believing it, but I don’t.
Carson’s stretched across the bedspread, an arm thrown over his face. His shirt is gone, and where the lamp touches him, his skin is burnished in gold. My heart stutters.
And then—out of nowhere—he’s beautiful.
The thought jars me, my frown immediate. Not because of what it is, but because of how sudden it arrives, like my chest knows something my mind refuses to grasp.
I bury it, chalk the jittery feeling up to emotional fatigue. Yeah. That’s all.
Carson doesn’t so much as flick a glance my way as I round the bed. If not for the unnatural stillness, I’d think he was asleep. I move feather-light, giving him every chance to change his mind.
It’s when I stall one beat too long that his arm drops.
“What are you doing?” His voice is steeped in exasperation. I swear I see his gaze dip, almost reflexive, but it snaps back to my face, locking there with a charge that feels like static.
I play dumb. “Huh?”
The headboard groans. “You’re tiptoeing, Jameson. Like I’m one wrong move from snapping. Stop. If I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be.” He studies me. “We’re friends, yeah?”
A small ember catches. “Yeah.”
“So of course you don’t make me uncomfortable. You never have.”
I frown. “But—” what about the first night?
I don’t ask it but his expression shuts down all the same. One clipped shake of his head, then his palm pats the mattress in wordless order.
The sheets are warm, softer than the dull thud of my phone on the nightstand. I stare at it, reluctant. No rain tonight, no familiar rhythm to pull me under. It’s been so long since I’ve tried to fall asleep in real silence, and the idea feels more daunting than it should.
“What’s wrong?” Carson’s brows are drawn, but it’s the slump of his shoulders that holds me.
“Oh. Nothing.”
“You sure?”
I nod.
Darkness folds in after that. The hush of blankets. The measured dip of the bed as he settles in inches away.
I settle in too, letting my nose edge the pillow. A sigh almost escapes. Linen. Breeze. Saltwater. Couple all that with the heat rolling off his body and I’m teetering on the edge of something delirious. Relaxing in a way my body doesn’t quite know how to handle.
It’s nighttime. Not a time of rest, but a time of tension. Dark thoughts, and even darker dreams.
“Carson?” It escapes without me meaning it to. Maybe because it’s been nagging at me for hours.
He doesn’t answer, but I know he’s on his side when I feel his gaze on my profile. I don’t turn to meet it. Sometimes it’s easier to speak without being seen.
“Are you okay? Earlier… you seemed stressed.”
Silence. It hangs heavy, and in it, I find my answer. Something in me stings, some of the sadness I’ve been running from catching up at last.
It’s another one of those moments, one where I feel seen, but this time, it doesn’t taste sweet. It’s bitter. I don’t want him to know this part of me. I don’t want him to mirror it back.
“You’ll be okay,” I say, throat tight, tight, tight. “Promise.”
Quiet. Stillness. Long enough that I start to drift.
Then, just when I’m sure he’s asleep, his voice breaks the hush. “Brielle.” Almost choked.
My eyes open to the dark. “Yes?”
A breath. Words that falter. Then only—“Thanks.”