Page 113 of Beyond Oblivion

As he turned to grab his toothbrush, I felt another pang of unease. The more mundane things we accomplished, the worse it became. I hesitated before pulling my shirt over my head, the idea of standing there in just my underwear suddenly unbearable. It had felt like too long since Trenton hadn’t been at the bar or elsewhere during my nightly routine. I moved toward the bathroom instead, clutching my pajamas, but caught the recognition and then the flicker of hurt that crossed his face before he quickly masked it.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said.

I paused, not looking back. “Do what?”

“Act like I’m some stranger who shouldn’t see you undress,” he muttered, the frustration clear even in his restraint.

“I…” I began but stopped myself. My first instinct was to return fire, but Jim’s words echoed in my ears. The tension between us was too fragile, like a taut thread ready to snap. Instead, I just whispered, “I’m not trying to make you feel that way,” and slipped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

I leaned against the door for a moment, the soft sounds of him moving around the room outside making my space feel even smaller. When the noise finally stopped, I realized he’d left me to finish getting ready on my own.

I showered quickly, the hot water doing little to ease the guilt burning in my chest. Steam hung in the air as I hurried through my nightly routine, brushing my teeth with more force than necessary and barely glancing at my reflection in the mirror. By the time I was halfway through flossing, the faint creak of floorboards outside signaled Trenton’s return to the room.

I paused, listening to the soft rustle of fabric and the muted thud of something—probably his wallet or phone—being dropped onto the nightstand. Part of me wanted to stay in the bathroom a little longer, to let the privacy of the small, foggy space shield me from whatever was waiting beyond the door. Instead, I took a deep breath, finished slathering moisturizer on my face, and reached for the handle.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Please don’t take it personally. It’s just… you haven’t been home much, and then we had the worst fight probably ever. I don’t know why it feels so strange, and I’m sorry if it hurts your feelings.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry you feel weird about it now. I’m sorry about everything.”

“Well… that’s why we’re here, right? To get back to where we were.”

He hesitated. “If we can’t, are you going to leave me?”

“I told you before we left. We’re not going back until we’re us again. There isn’t anything for me beyond you. Just… oblivion. There is no other option but for us to fix it.”

He offered a small smile. “I just enjoyed tonight so much, and I let myself believe it was going to be just that easy. It’s not your fault.”

“It can be—that easy. Maybe just not the first night.”

Trenton nodded, then passed me with his things in hand. The door clicked as he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water following seconds later. I leaned back in the corner chair, his boots next to my feet.

A soft knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts. I stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor in the quiet room, but I hesitated, my hand hovering just above the armrest. The knock hadn’t been loud—barely more than a gentle tap—but it stirred a flash of unwanted memories. Madison barging into my bedroom, her voice filled with mockery as she reveled in breaching our security.

“Liis?” I called.

“Can we talk to you for a second?” she said through the door.

I walked across the room, each step measured as I reached for the handle. Easing the door open just a crack was enough to see Liis standing there with Thomas beside her, both framed by the dim hallway light. They exchanged glances, something unspoken passing between them.

I gripped the edge of the door. “Everything all right?”

Thomas tried to peek behind me. “He’s in the shower?”

“Yes?”

“Can you come outside and talk?” Liis asked.

I followed them to the patio, hugging myself against the cold desert air while I waited for one of them to begin.

“We wanted to wait until we could speak to you alone,” Liis said. “What we need to tell you is… complicated.”

“Complicated how?” I pressed, my stomach already tightening.

Thomas shoved his hands in the pockets of his gray sweatpants. “As in, we’ve had multiple discussions—”

“And arguments,” Liis interjected.

“And arguments,” Thomas conceded, “whether we should share this information, but in the end we decided,” he looked to her for confirmation, “that it’s the right thing to do. The people who were helping Madison—they weren’t just random criminals.”

---