2. Chapter 2 #2
Lights flashing, bass vibrating through the floor, loud music, and heat.
We’re packed into a club in Miami, bodies everywhere, the air thick with sweat and alcohol, people barely dressed, shouting over the music.
We just got off stage hours ago, riding the high of it, adrenaline still buzzing through us.
Jude is in front of me, grinning like an idiot, hair damp, shirt half unbuttoned, a drink sloshing in his hand as he grabs my shoulder and yanks me into him.
“Dude, we fucking killed it!” he shouts, his voice barely audible over the music. “That’s the most people I’ve ever seen.”
I’m laughing, shoving him back, but he doesn’t let go. He just spins, dragging me with him, both of us moving like we don’t give a shit who’s watching.
Kami is somewhere behind us, dancing on a table, Finnick trying and failing to keep his balance next to her, all of them a mess, all of us happy and free.
The good days.
The memory fractures, and cold slams back into me like a brutal ocean wave. My chest seizes, and another sob tears out of me. I’ll collapse if I let go of the tree.
I force in another breath, but it breaks apart as my shoulders shake again.
Emma can’t see me falling apart. It will destroy her.
And she’s barely holding on as it is, especially after he tried killing her.
I press my forehead harder into the tree, eyes squeezed shut, trying to get control of myself and shove all of this back down where it belongs.
But it doesn’t go. It just sits there, demanding to be felt.
My fingers dig into the bark, desperate to ground myself. “I’ve got you.”
Even if I have to break myself trying.
My grip on the tree finally loosens. Slowly, though, since I’m not entirely sure I can hold myself up yet.
My fingers are numb, but that doesn’t even bother me right now.
I wipe the back of my hand across my face, smearing away tears that won’t stop, my chest still heaving as I try to force my breathing to chill the fuck out.
Get it together.
I finally have enough strength to straighten.
The cold has sunk deep through my clothes, but I welcome it.
When I go to push off the tree, I freeze when I see a silhouette just beyond the edge of the porch.
Her arms are wrapped tight around herself against the cold.
Snow drifts down, catching in her hair, and melting against her skin.
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.
She lived it.
My chest twists at that. For a second, I see it differently. Not just what Jude has become, but what she’s been standing next to this 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 hard not to 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 quiet don’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’t save him.
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.
Her hand stills for half a second, then resumes, slower. “You don’t have to be, you know.”
That does it. My chest feels like it’s caving in again. I shift without thinking, burying my face against her shoulder. Her other arm comes around me, holding me tighter.
“I don’t want her to see him like this,” I admit quietly. “He’s…I don’t know how to fix that, baby.”
Her fingers slide through my hair again.
“You need to accept that you can’t fix him right away,” she says softly.
“What’s happened to him is going to take time.
Emma has dealt with patients who have had her crying to me.
She is a soft soul. Always has been. But she’s strong enough for this, okay?
We’ll hold her and love her through this, but ultimately, she’s going to be alright. I know my best friend.”
I let my eyes close, tension bleeding out of me. For a while, neither of us says anything. There’s just the quiet of the room, and the steady beat of her heart under my ear.
Heather presses a light kiss to my temple. “I’ve got you,” she murmurs. “You don’t have to be strong for us. We all love him. We’re all struggling.”