Page 8 of Until Forever Falls

Brooks eyes me with an exasperated look, his voice flat. “Because it looks like it’ll collapse if we so much as sneeze on it.”

“Come on, Brooks. Live a little—you said we were here to explore.”

He shakes his head, a reluctant half-smile finally breaking through. “Alright, fine. But if I die, I’m haunting you.Forever.”

I smother a laugh with my palm, doing my best to keep it contained. “Deal.”

We tread lightly, broken bricks shifting beneath us, twisted weeds brushing against our legs. The closer we get, the more details emerge in the moonlight—cracked windows, faded paint, and a set of heavy double doors, worn from years of harsh weather. It’s quiet—the kind of silence that feels ancient. As we reach the entrance, Brooks’ eyes flicker in my direction, a wariness hidden beneath his curiosity.

“Still think this is a good idea?” he asks, the tease in his voice undercut by genuine hesitation.

Instead of answering, I reach for the rusted door handle, pulling with more confidence than I feel. The wood moans under the pressure, opening into the dim, cavernous space of the church’s interior. A cold draft sweeps past us, stirring the scent of damp wood and dust. Brooks edges closer, his shoulder bumping mine as we continue walking.

“Wow,” I breathe, taking in the broken pews lined up in neat, ominous rows, each shrouded in debris. Light filters through gaps in the roof, casting a silvery glow over the space. Part of me wonders how many people once gathered here, sitting in these very benches, finding solace in something bigger than themselves.

The two of us maneuver our way through the building, drawn deeper in. I can’t help but notice how Brooks’ hand hovers near mine, as if he’s ready to catch me if I fall, even though the ground is firm beneath me. Trailing a finger along the edge of a seat, grime coats my fingertips. In another life, maybe I would’ve felt at home in a place like this—somewhere that would’ve felt like a foundation instead of a question. Whatever version of me that might’ve belonged here disappeared ages ago, taking any real sense of safety with it.

“So, what brought you to Rockport?”

His question lands unexpectedly, making me rethink what I’m willing to share. Some things are meant to be unpacked over time—not dumped onto someone you just met. “My mom thought change would be good for us.” It’s the simple version, one that doesn’t invite follow-ups, so I go with it. “What about you? Have you always lived here?”

“Yup, born and raised. My whole family too.”

“Cool,” is all I can manage in response. I try to imagine what that would feel like—to be so deeply rooted, to belong. But the thought slips away just as quickly. That kind of security isn’t something I’ve ever known.

“So, what do you think—worth the detour, or should we have stuck with the bonfire?”

My mouth betrays me, tugging into a smile that’s too real to hide. “I’d say it was worth it. There’s something kind of peaceful about this place—like we’ve stumbled onto a secret that belongs only to us.”

He chuckles, crossing his arms as he leans against a broken pew. “Yeah, I guess it’s got its own kind of charm—if you’re into that whole haunted vibe.”

I square my shoulders, mirroring his stance. “Really? Didn’t think you’d be into it.”

For a moment, his bravado thins—a tiny fracture in the confidence I assume he wears like armor. “Maybe I like having an excuse to get away.”

“Was this your plan all along?” I tease.

“My plan?” he echoes, one eyebrow lifting. “You mean luring you into a creepy, abandoned church late at night?”

“If that was your goal, I’d say you nailed it.”

A smirk threatens to form, but the clench of his jaw keeps it at bay. “Not everything is a plan. Sometimes you just find the right place, the right moment.”

“And you thought this would be the right moment?”

“I wasn’t expecting any of this, actually,” he admits, though his voice is a little more serious now. “Maybe the most memorable moments are the ones we never see coming.”

I bite my lip, studying him, then glance back toward the entrance, the weight of responsibility pressing down on me. “I should probably get back…make sure my brother hasn’t gotten himself into trouble.”

“Responsibilities don’t stop, huh?” He lets out a quiet breath, clearly trying to mask his disappointment with a shrug.

“Yeah,” I reply, my gaze drifting to the door, as if it might give me permission to stay. “I wish it were easier to just…forget about them.”

Reluctantly I take a step back and, of course, my foot catches on a loose floorboard. I lose my balance, and suddenly, everything just…tilts, pitching me forward before I can react. Just before hitting the ground, firm hands grip my waist, halting my descent with unyielding strength. I gasp, the air catching in my throat as I’m pulled upright into Brooks’ chest.

His sudden closeness is shocking, and I’m immediately hyper-aware of every inch of him behind me. There’s a push and pull in his hold, a mix of settling in and staying alert, like a muscle stretched too far.Then, out of nowhere, an unexpected chill runs through me—the fragile thread of a hidden memory snapping free. Each breath feels like an invitation to the past, and I’m standing on the edge of something I’m not ready to face.

When Brooks finally lets go, the embarrassment hits me full force, and I let out a nervous laugh, doing my best to shake off the overwhelming sensation swirling inside me.

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