CHAPTER 14
The hum of the engine fills the space between us, and I let it wash over me. The city is still alive outside the car, but in here, it’s just us—Kieran, with his quiet confidence, and me, trying to keep my thoughts from running wild.
I glance at him again, my gaze lingering on the side of his face as the dim light from the dashboard highlights the sharpness of his features. He’s so composed, like he always has it all figured out. I envy that. I wish I could be as certain of everything as he seems to be, especially when it feels like the world around me is constantly shifting.
A streetlight flashes by, casting a brief shadow over his expression, and for a moment, I think I see something—an emotion, maybe—but it’s gone before I can grasp it. Something shifts in the air between us, but I can’t quite place it.
“Where are we really going, Kieran?” I ask again, my voice quieter this time.
He doesn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, I think he might not answer. Then, without looking at me, he speaks, his voice low and steady.
“A place where I don’t have to pretend I have it all together.”
The words hit me harder than I expected, and I swallow. I’m not sure why it resonates so much. Maybe it’s because it sounds like something I could have said to him—not just the words themselves, but the sentiment behind them. We’re both walking around with pieces of ourselves we’ve never shared with anyone. Maybe tonight, it’s about letting those pieces fall into place.
He takes a sharp turn, and the car shifts slightly as he guides it down a narrow street. The city fades behind us, the skyscrapers and neon lights replaced by low, quiet buildings and empty streets. It’s strange—how the world can feel so different just by driving a few blocks. The noise of the city is muted here, and the night feels softer, as if it’s holding its breath.
I lean back in my seat, watching the streetlights pass by in a blur. My mind drifts, and for the first time all day, I allow myself to think about Kieran. About the way he looked at me when he left last night, his words hanging in the air between us. Try to sleep. Simple, but it felt like more than just a casual text. There was something in it that made my chest tighten, something that made me wonder if he was reaching out for more than just a moment of conversation.
But then again, maybe I’m reading too much into it.
We drive for a while, the silence comfortable now, as though we’ve both settled into something unspoken. Eventually, Kieran pulls into an empty parking lot, the gravel crunching under the tires. The lot is surrounded by trees, and I can see the faint outline of a small building in the distance—a cabin, maybe.
He parks the car, turns off the engine, and for a moment, neither of us moves. I look at him, but he’s already unbuckling his seatbelt, sliding out of the car with that familiar ease. There’s something about him, the way he carries himself, that always makes me feel like he knows exactly where he’s going, even when I’m not sure where we are.
I follow him out of the car, my footsteps heavy on the gravel as I catch up to him.
“Where are we?” I ask, my voice breaking the silence.
“Somewhere I come to think,” he replies, his tone lighter now. He looks over at me, the smirk from earlier making a reappearance. “No distractions.”
I glance around at the quiet surroundings. It’s peaceful here, a stark contrast to the chaos that seems to follow me wherever I go. There’s no honking cars or flashing lights, just the sound of the wind rustling through the trees and the distant chirping of crickets.
“Why bring me here?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Kieran stops walking and turns to face me, his expression unreadable. He’s quiet for a moment, and for the first time since I’ve known him, I can’t tell what he’s thinking. The air around us feels thicker, charged with something that I can’t name.
“Because I’m tired of pretending,” he says, his voice steady, but there’s a hint of vulnerability behind it.
I take a step closer, the words catching in my throat. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Kieran.”
His gaze softens, just slightly, but it’s enough for me to notice. “Maybe I’m not the one pretending,” he murmurs, almost to himself.
The weight of his words lands heavy in the air between us. I want to ask him what he means, but something about the way he says it makes me hesitate. He’s holding something back, and I know it’s not something he’ll easily share.
We continue walking toward the cabin, and I try to focus on the surroundings, on the crisp night air and the way the trees seem to wrap around us. But I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something deeper at play here—something I can’t see but can almost feel brushing against the edges of my mind.
When we reach the cabin, Kieran pulls open the door, and I follow him inside. The room is small but cozy, with a stone fireplace on one wall and soft, worn furniture scattered around. There’s a low hum of a heater in the corner, and the faint scent of wood and pine fills the space.
Kieran makes his way to a small bookshelf in the corner, running his fingers along the spines of the books. It’s strange, seeing him like this—relaxed, at ease, as if this is a place he comes to let down the walls he’s so careful to keep up.
I walk further into the room, standing by the window and looking out at the quiet night. There’s something almost surreal about it, about being here with him, surrounded by nothing but the sound of the wind and the distant rustling of leaves.
Kieran’s voice breaks the silence. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admits, the words simple but carrying more weight than I expect. “I thought I had everything figured out. But I don’t.”
I turn to face him, surprised by the rawness in his voice. He’s always been guarded, and hearing him admit to uncertainty is like watching him shed a piece of that armor he’s spent so long building.
“You don’t have to have it all figured out, Kieran,” I say softly. “Not with me.”
He meets my gaze, and for a long moment, neither of us moves. The space between us is charged with something unspoken, something that neither of us knows how to address. But for once, I don’t feel the need to rush. I don’t feel the urge to fix things or make them better.
We’re just here, together, in a space that feels safe, even if it’s only for tonight.
Kieran takes a step forward, and I don’t pull away. There’s a quiet understanding between us now, one that’s been building all along, whether we’ve been aware of it or not.
And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel lost.
I just feel found.