Chapter 166
Chapter 166
Bryson's POV
This rain felt appropriate somehow, like the weather was matching my internal state—gray and turbulent and heavy with the weight of things that needed to be said.
I needed to see Linnet today. Needed to hear what she'd learned from her mother about the history between our families, needed to understand the full scope of what we were up against so we could figure out how to fight it together.
I glanced at the clock again—4:23 AM now—and knew there was no point trying to go back to sleep. My body was still thrumming with adrenaline, mind too active to settle, and besides, the thought of closing my eyes and potentially dropping back into that nightmare made my skin crawl with preemptive dread.
So I stayed where I was, sitting up in bed with my phone in my hands and the rain providing soundtrack, and I waited for the sky to lighten enough that I could reasonably call it morning and start getting ready for school.
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The drive to school normally took about fifteen minutes, but I deliberately took it slow, letting other cars pass me while I focused on the rhythmic swish-swish of the wipers and the way the rain blurred everything outside into impressionistic smears of gray and green.
I reached the school parking lot around 8:00, and sat in my truck for several minutes just watching the rain hammer against the windshield while I worked up the nerve to actually get out and go inside. My phone was in my hand again—it seemed to gravitate there whenever I wasn't actively doing something else—and I finally gave in to the impulse I'd been fighting all morning and typed out a message to Linnet: [What time can we meet to talk? I need to see you.]
I stared at the screen, watching those three little dots appear almost immediately to indicate she was typing, and my heart rate kicked up in anticipation of her response. It came through after just a few seconds: [Lunch break. We can go to the library roof.]
Relief flooded through me so intensely it was almost dizzying, and I typed back quickly before I could overthink it: [Okay. I'll meet you there.]
The morning classes were torture—pure, unadulterated torture. I sat through AP Government and Calculus in a fog of distraction, mechanically taking notes and nodding along when teachers asked questions but not actually retaining anything they said. My mind was completely elsewhere, imagining what Linnet's mother might have told her, worrying about what would my father would do as he had said this wasn't over.
When the lunch bell finally rang I was out of my seat and heading for the library before anyone else had even started packing up their things.
The rain had lightened to a drizzle by then, more mist than actual drops. I ran across campus to the library and then up the old service stairs that led to the roof.
The metal door at the top was heavy and rusted, hinges protesting with a screech when I shoved it open, and I stepped out onto the flat expanse of tar and gravel that made up the library's roof access, an area technically off-limits to students but rarely monitored because most people didn't even know it existed.
Linnet was already there, standing near the edge where a low wall provided a safety barrier, and she was looking out at the practice field visible in the distance through the gray haze of rain.
She had her back to me, shoulders slightly hunched in that way that told me she was cold or stressed or probably both, and for a moment I just stood there watching her, drinking in the sight of her after what felt like an eternity of separation even though it had only been one night.
Then I said her name—"Linnet"—and she turned around, and our eyes met across the space between us, and something in my chest that had been wound tight since yesterday finally began to loosen.
I crossed the distance between us in several long strides and pulled her into my arms.
She came willingly, wrapping her arms around my waist and pressing her face against my chest, and I buried my face in her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo mixed with rain and letting it ground me in this moment, this reality where we were together despite everything trying to pull us apart.
"I missed you," I said quietly, my voice coming out rougher than I'd intended, and I felt her arms tighten around me in response.
"I missed you too," she replied, her words slightly muffled by my shirt but clear enough that I could hear the sincerity in them, and we stood like that for a while—just holding each other while the rain misted down around us and the rest of the world faded into background noise.
Eventually we separated enough to move over to one of the old wooden benches. The drizzle had stopped completely now, leaving everything wet and glistening in the diffused gray light, and there was something almost peaceful about this space despite the weight of the conversation we were about to have.
I turned to face her more fully, taking a breath to steady myself before asking the question that had been eating at me all night: "What did your mom tell you last night? Tell me everything."