Page 43 of Knot Made to Break: Part One

“What’s got you up so late?” Tommas asked softly.

I stared out at the cityscape, unable to meet his gaze. Did I tell him the truth?

“I had a nightmare,” I admitted quietly. “I... I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep right away.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, and I could hear his genuine sincerity. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head, still not looking at him. “What about you?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.

“I’m a bit of an insomniac.” He shrugged.

Biting my lip, I dared a glance in his direction. “What are you reading?”

Tommas grinned, easily letting me steer the conversation to safer waters. He didn’t push, instead holding up the book with its gleaming cover.

“It’s a fantasy novel,” he explained, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice. “About dragon riders at a war academy. It’s really fuckin’ good.”

I found myself smiling at his puppy-like enthusiasm, and despite myself, I felt a spark of interest. “Really? I... I love fantasy books,” I admitted shyly.

Tommas’ face lit up, his smile widening. “Yeah? What’s your favorite?”

I hesitated, my mind racing through the books I’d managed to read between classes at the OMA. “I don’t get to read as much as I’d like, but I really enjoyed the Mistborn series,” I said softly. “The magic system was so unique.”

“Oh shit, that’s a great one!” Tommas exclaimed, his green eyes twinkling as brightly as the city lights. “Sanderson’s a genius.”

His enthusiasm was infectious, and I relaxed a bit. “Does… does your book have a love story in it?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. Romance books would forever be my favorite.

Tommas’ cheeks reddened slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. It does. A pretty steamy one, actually.”

I couldn’t help but giggle at his embarrassment, a real, genuine smile spreading across my face. It felt foreign, but good.

“I’ve always loved reading,” Tommas said wistfully. “Ever since I was a kid. My mom... she used to read to me every night.”

My heart clenched at the tenderness in his voice. “That sounds really nice,” I murmured.

He nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. “When I got older, we’d spend hours in bookstores and libraries together. We’d leave with stacks of books almost as tall as I was.” He chuckled softly. “Pretty sure the librarians hated us.”

I leaned in, drawn by this glimpse of vulnerability. “Your mom sounds wonderful.” I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what it would’ve been like to have grown up with such an amazing mother. Or any family at all.

A shadow passed over Tommas’ face, and I immediately regretted my words. The pain of grief was recognizable and dolefully familiar. “She was,” he breathed, and my heart squeezed, understanding his sadness, lamenting his loss alongside him. “She... she died a few years ago.”

“Oh, Tommas, I’m so sorry,” I whispered, instinctively reaching out to touch his arm before catching myself.

He gave me a sad smile. “It’s okay. It’s... it’s nice to remember her, you know? To keep her memory alive.”

I nodded, my throat tight with unexpected emotion. “Yeah,” I managed. “I understand that.”

We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of shared grief hanging between us. I wanted to comfort him, but was unsure how.

“I don’t remember much of my parents,” I offered, giving him a small piece of myself in return.

Tommas turned to me, his green eyes softening with concern. “No?” he asked gently.

I shook my head, picking at a loose thread on my sleeve. “They died when I was six. Car accident.” The words felt hollow, rehearsed. I’d said them countless times over the years to so many people who didn’t really care.

But Tommas? Tommas looked like he cared. Unspoken understanding hung between us.

He reached out, hesitating for just a moment before taking my hand in his. His fingers were warm and strong as they interlaced with mine. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Kit,” he murmured, using a new nickname for me.

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