Chapter 6 – A Night of Secrets
The house was quieter than usual that night. The kind of quiet that made even the ticking clock in the hall sound like a warning. I sat cross-legged on my bed, staring at the glow of my phone screen, scrolling through old pictures of my dad. Him holding me at a game. Him laughing in the backyard. Him looking straight into the camera like he had all the time in the world.
My chest ached. I tossed the phone onto the covers and buried my face in my pillow, but the ache wouldn't leave. I wanted—no, needed—someone to talk to.
As if the universe had read my thoughts, my phone buzzed.
Adrian.
Can't sleep?
I stared at the message, half tempted to ignore it. But my fingers betrayed me.
No. You?
His reply came almost instantly.
Same. Want me to call?
I hesitated. A week ago, the idea of hearing his voice past midnight would've made me roll my eyes. Now, my thumb was already pressing "accept" before I could stop myself.
"Hey," he said, his voice softer than I'd ever heard it. No sarcasm, no teasing. Just… gentle.
"Hi." My voice cracked, and I hated how small it sounded.
"What's keeping you up?" he asked.
I chewed on my lip, staring at the shadowed ceiling. "The usual. Dad. Everything."
For a moment, silence hummed between us. Then he sighed. "I don't know what it's like to lose someone like that. But I know what it feels like to live with questions that don't have answers. It eats you alive if you let it."
Something in his tone made me sit up straighter. "What kind of questions?"
He didn't answer right away. I could hear him breathing on the other end, steady but heavy. "Family stuff," he said finally. "Messy. Complicated. Doesn't matter."
But it did matter. The way his voice dipped told me so. I wanted to press, but instead I whispered, "I'm sorry."
Another pause, and then he laughed—quiet and rough. "Why are you apologizing for something you didn't do?"
"Because… I know how it feels to carry weight that isn't yours," I said.
The line went quiet again, but not empty. Full. Charged. I realized I was smiling.
"Come outside," he said suddenly.
I blinked. "What?"
"Your mansion's garden. I'm close by."
My heart tripped over itself. "Adrian—"
"Relax. I'm not climbing in your window or anything. Just… come outside."
I hesitated for about thirty seconds before grabbing a hoodie and tiptoeing downstairs, careful not to wake Mom. The garden was bathed in silver moonlight, the fountain trickling softly in the center.
And there he was. Leaning against the stone railing like he belonged there, hands in his pockets, eyes catching the glow of the night.
"You're insane," I whispered, though I couldn't hide the smile tugging at my lips.
"Probably," he said with a shrug. "But you came anyway."
I crossed my arms, trying to steady the storm in my chest. "So why are you here?"
"Because phone calls aren't enough sometimes." He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving mine.
My breath caught. "You shouldn't be here."
"Maybe not," he murmured, "but do you want me to leave?"
I didn't answer. Couldn't.
The world narrowed until it was just the two of us, the night air thick with unspoken things. He reached up, his hand brushing against my cheek again, just like in the hallway, only slower this time. Deliberate. My skin burned where his fingers lingered, tracing the edge of my jaw.
His other hand grazed my lap as he leaned closer, and my pulse raced so hard I thought he might hear it.
"Laurence," he whispered, his breath feathering against my lips.
Time seemed to stop. The distance between us shrank until I swore I could taste the warmth of him, the possibility of him. My eyes fluttered shut, anticipation pulling me forward—
And then headlights swept across the driveway.
I jerked back, heart hammering. Adrian stepped away, his hand falling to his side, his face shadowed with something unreadable.
"Guess that's my cue," he said softly.
"Adrian—"
"Goodnight, Laurence." His eyes lingered on mine one last time before he disappeared into the darkness beyond the gate.
I stood frozen in the garden, my lips tingling with what almost was, my chest aching with what almost happened.
And when I finally crawled back into bed, I pressed my fingers to my cheek, to the place his hand had been, and wondered if I was already in too deep.