Page 43 of Never After Us
All my assumptions—every snarky thought—collapse into silence.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“It’s okay.”He looks away for a moment, jaw shifting as if he’s choosing words he rarely lets out.“You can’t miss what you never had.”
Then he leans back against the railing—trying for casual, failing, because his voice lowers in a way that pulls at me.“Yeah.I should ...go inside.”
I want to remind him he practically offered to help, or ask him to stay.
But how can I ask him for anything when I probably just pressed against a bruise he probably never talks about?
So I swallow the impulse and say, “Goodnight, Alec.”
He pauses mid-step.
Looks at me.
His gaze lingers—warming, searching, almost careful—like he’s trying to memorize something before he lets himself leave.The air between us feels stretched, waiting for a decision neither of us is brave enough to make.
“Goodnight, Mara,” he finally says.
And the way my name leaves his mouth ...it slips under my skin before I have a chance to brace.I watch him turn, watch the door close behind him, and I’m still standing there like someone pressed pause on my entire evening.
I inhale, try to gather myself, then unmute the phone and make sure it’s not on speaker.“Hey, I’m back.”
Ariadne shrieks, “I KNEW IT.I KNEW HE WAS HOT.”
I cover my face.“Ari?—”
“Mara, if you don’t kiss that man within the year, I’m flying there myself.”
“You’re unbearable.”
“And you’re welcome.”
But I’m barely listening.
Because my gaze drifts back to Alec’s balcony.He’s on the other side of the glass door, but still standing.Waiting, like he’s not sure whether to run or stay.
Same, buddy.Same.
But as he finally walks away, I can’t shake the feeling that he knows more about heartbreak than he’ll ever admit ...and that my aunt’s letters aren’t the only secrets waiting for me here.
ChapterThirteen
Alec
Rain doesn’t simply fall in Seattle.It lingers, draping itself over railings and rooftops, curling around the skyline, slipping into the edges of your lungs whether you invited it in or not.
This morning is one of those that convinces you and everyone else to wake, even when you’re still two steps behind.I step outside anyway, because staying inside feels worse.
Cold air hits the back of my throat, clearing out whatever emotional wreckage I carried from yesterday’s therapy session.And from avoiding my neighbor for the third ...maybe fourth day in a row.Part of me hoped she’d get overwhelmed by the boxes, the responsibility, the noise of starting over, and just leave.
Another part of me—the smarter, more honest part—knows I’ve been hiding because she unsettles me in ways I don’t have the training for.
I’m not good with people.
Attraction?Even worse.
