Chapter 8: Midnight Confessions

9

Late spring night, my rented room was stuffy. I couldn’t sleep, so I got up to shower. Just as I returned to my room, something hit the window.

I froze, soap still in hand. For a second, I thought it was the wind, but then—a sharp clack against the glass.

I sat up, gripping my box cutter. I didn’t dare turn on the light. Tiptoed to the window, peeked out.

My heart hammered. Mom always taught me: keep a box cutter nearby. You never know who might come knocking.

The streetlight showed Lucas under it, tall and out of place in this battered alley. His face was blurred, but unmistakable.

For a second, I thought I was dreaming. He looked so out of place—clean and sharp against cracked sidewalks and busted mailboxes. It was almost funny, if it wasn’t so sad.

I gripped the curtain, a sour ache in my chest. Lucas bent to pick up another stone. I flung the window open.

The screen squeaked, but I didn’t care. I needed him to stop before someone called the cops.

Lucas saw me, then turned and walked away.

My heart jumped. I grabbed my dad’s old varsity jacket and ran for the door. The hallway stank of cigarettes and takeout, linoleum cold under my feet.

I threw on a jacket and slipped outside. In the next room, my mom was already snoring. I eased open the creaky door and ran downstairs.

The night air smelled like rain and gasoline. My breath fogged as I hurried after him.

Lucas hadn’t gone far. He was standing by the road, smoking. Hearing footsteps, he stubbed out his cigarette and walked ahead.

His shoulders were hunched, hands shoved in his pockets. He didn’t say a word, but I could tell he was waiting.

A ridiculous thought popped up—was Lucas sulking with me? He dumped me, now he was outside my building at midnight.

A smile tugged at my mouth, even as my heart pounded. Was this what it felt like to have someone chase you?

My heart raced. If that was true...maybe I could use Lucas to solve my family’s big problem for good.

The thought was cold, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Lucas was my only ticket out.

After all, that family wanted me to marry their son as atonement, care for their bedridden son, bear his kids. People whispered about it in line at Walmart. I never thought it could happen, but now—with Lucas here—anything felt possible.

But I calmed myself. Natalie, don’t be stupid. Don’t forget your original intention.

I reminded myself: I wasn’t here to fall in love. I was here to survive.

I hurried over. At the alley entrance, I caught up to Lucas. Without hesitation, I hugged his waist from behind.

He stiffened, but I didn’t let go. I pressed my face into his back, letting my tears soak his jacket. I was tired of pretending to be strong.

I didn’t speak, just let my tears fall.

At first, Lucas wanted to push me away. But when my tears soaked his shirt, his attitude changed.

He hovered his hand over my wrist, then held it. For the first time in weeks, I let myself hope.

“Why are you crying?”

He turned, pinched my chin, made me look up. But I just bit my lip, lowered my eyes, kept crying.

His anger melted away, replaced by confusion—maybe even worry. I let the silence stretch, letting my tears do the talking.

“You have the nerve to cry?”

Lucas roughly wiped my tears. “Blocked my number without a word—aren’t you tough, Natalie?”

His words were harsh, but his touch was gentle. I looked up, vision blurry, wondering if he’d ever really understand me.