Chapter 9

The wind brushes against my skin, cool and sharp, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. From up here, the city looks small—insignificant, even.

I shift my weight, crossing my arms as I glance at Kieran. He’s standing beside me, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, gaze fixed on the horizon like he’s seeing something I can’t.

“You bring all your victims here before pushing them off the edge?” I ask, breaking the silence.

Kieran huffs a quiet laugh. “You’re the first.”

“Lucky me.”

“Yeah.” He glances at me, something flickering in his expression before he looks away. “Lucky you.”

I don’t know what to make of that, so I turn my attention back to the view. The silence between us isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s heavy—like there’s something waiting to be said, something just out of reach.

I should ask him why he brought me here. I should press for answers. But instead, I let the quiet stretch, let myself settle into the unfamiliar calm of it.

After a while, I hear him shift beside me. “You always overthink this much?”

I don’t look at him. “You always play therapist?”

He chuckles. “Only when it’s entertaining.”

I roll my eyes, kicking at a loose rock near my foot. “Why are we here, Kieran?”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair before leaning back against the hood of his car. “Because you looked like you needed to breathe.”

I frown. “I was breathing just fine.”

“Were you?”

I don’t have an answer to that. Not one I want to say out loud, anyway.

Kieran doesn’t push. He just watches me, waiting.

And maybe that’s what makes me say it.

“I feel like I’m running out of time,” I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

Kieran doesn’t react right away. He just tilts his head, studying me. “For what?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. Everything.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then nods—like he understands, like he’s felt it too.

“The city makes it worse,” he says after a while. “The noise, the expectations. It’s like you’re always supposed to be doing something.”

I glance at him. “And you? You’re just... above it all?”

He smirks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not even close.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes me wonder what he’s running from. But before I can ask, he pushes off the car.

“Come on,” he says, jerking his head toward the trail leading down from the overlook.

I hesitate. “Where are we going now?”

“You’ll see.”

I sigh but follow him anyway.

We walk in silence for a while, the ground damp beneath our feet. The path winds through the trees, the scent of rain lingering in the air. I don’t know where he’s leading me, but there’s something oddly soothing about just walking—no destination, no rush.

Eventually, we reach a small clearing. A rusted-out bench sits near the edge, half-hidden by overgrown grass. Kieran gestures for me to sit, and I do, brushing off a few stray leaves.

He stays standing, staring out into the distance.

“I used to come here a lot,” he says finally. “When things got too loud.”

I watch him, waiting.

“My dad used to tell me that silence was a weakness. That if you weren’t making noise—weren’t proving yourself—you were invisible.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look at me.

“He was wrong,” I say quietly.

Kieran’s lips twitch, but there’s no humor in it. “Maybe.”

I don’t press.

Instead, I lean back, looking up at the sky. The clouds have started to shift, patches of pale blue peeking through.

“You ever think about just leaving?” I ask. “Getting in your car and driving until you don’t recognize anything?”

Kieran exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “All the time.”

I nod, because same.

For a while, we just sit there. The wind rustles through the trees, distant and steady.

Then, Kieran turns to me. “If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

I blink, caught off guard.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about it.”

Kieran watches me like he’s waiting for more.

“I guess…” I hesitate. “Somewhere quiet. Somewhere I don’t have to think so much.”

He smirks. “So, basically, here.”

I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.”

He does. I can tell by the way his smirk fades just slightly.

“You ever think about just staying somewhere like this?” he asks.

I glance at him, frowning. “And do what?”

His expression darkens for a fraction of a second before he looks away. “Nothing.”

I don’t believe him, but I don’t push.

Instead, I shift on the bench, pulling my jacket tighter around me.

“I should probably get back soon,” I say, even though I don’t really want to move.

Kieran exhales, like he knew this was coming. “Yeah.”

We sit there for another moment, neither of us moving.

Then, finally, he turns back toward the trail. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

The drive back is quieter than before.

I glance at Kieran every so often, wondering what’s going on in his head. But he doesn’t say much, and I don’t ask.

By the time we reach my place, the sky has cleared completely. The sun is low, casting golden light over the city.

Kieran pulls up to the curb but doesn’t kill the engine.

I hesitate, my hand on the door handle.

I should thank him. I should say something.

Instead, I turn to him. “Are you okay?”

He looks at me, startled.

Then, for the first time since we left the overlook, he smiles. Not the usual smirk, not the cocky grin—just a small, almost hesitant smile.

“I will be,” he says.

I nod, not sure why that answer makes my chest feel tight.

Then, before I can overthink it, I open the door.

“See you around, Kieran.”

He watches me for a second, then nods. “Yeah. See you around.”

I step out, shutting the door behind me.

The car lingers for a few seconds before pulling away, disappearing into the city.

And as I stand there, staring after it, I realize something.

For the first time in a long time...

I don’t feel like I’m running out of time.

I feel like I might actually have enough.