Page 93 of Can't Stop Watching
"Case brought me here. Student went missing." The truth, but not all of it. Never all of it.
"Oh." Her face falls slightly. She shifts her weight, textbooks pressed against her chest like armor. "Here?"
"Yeah. Freshman." I step closer, drawn to her warmth like a moth to flame. "But I'm glad I ran into you."
Life has a sick sense of humor—one hand offering Sarah's broken phone, the other delivering Lila into my path. The juxtaposition of darkness and light in my life has never been so stark.
"Turns out Tessa is late," she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I was heading to the coffee shop to wait for her." A pause, her eyes flicking up to mine. "Want to come?"
The responsible thing would be to get Sarah's phone to Milo immediately. Every minute counts in a missing person case. I know this better than most. But Lila stands before me offering normalcy, offering coffee and conversation instead of dread and death.
"Lead the way," I say, because I'm weak for her. Because twenty minutes won't change anything for Sarah, but it might keep me sane.
As we walk across campus, students part around us. I'm too old, too dangerous-looking to blend in here. But with Lila beside me, I almost feel human. Almost feel like I belong in the daylight instead of skulking through shadows.
"So this case," she begins tentatively. "Is it something serious?"
I study her profile—the gentle slope of her nose, the way her lips press together when she's concerned. What would it be like to have a simple life with her? Coffee dates and weekend mornings, arguments about whose turn it is to do dishes instead of whether I'm becoming the monster I hunt?
"It's always serious," I answer finally. "But right now, coffee with you sounds like salvation."
Five minutes later, it's a small miracle—sitting with Lila on a concrete bench outside the coffee shop, watching students rush past with their manufactured crises, their world untainted by theshit mine drowns in daily. The October sun hits her face at an angle that makes her freckles stand out like a constellation I've already memorized.
I paid for our drinks despite her protests—some old-school habits die hard. My black coffee steams between my hands while she nurses some complicated concoction with cinnamon and whipped cream that has too much sugar, but makes her inordinately happy, and that's all I care about.
"You know, normal people actually sit inside coffee shops," she teases, blowing ripples across her drink.
"I'm allergic to Edison bulbs and acoustic covers of 90s songs." My lips quirk up. "Besides, confined spaces make me nervous. You can't see threats coming."
"Threats like... a pop quiz?" She gestures at the campus around us.
Christ, I envy the lightness in her. How is it possible she still carries that after everything she's been through? After Colton? I want to bottle it, carry it with me into the dark apartments and back alleys that plague my life.
Lila smiles, a full, unfiltered smile that hits me like a punch to the solar plexus. Her whole face transforms, eyes crinkling at the corners, a dimple appearing in her right cheek. It's fucking glorious. For a moment, I forget about Sarah's cracked phone burning a hole in my pocket, forget about Langford's too-clean apartment, forget about everything except the woman in front of me.
I lean forward and kiss her, gently. Nothing like the desperate, hungry kisses from last night. Just the press of my lips against hers, tasting cinnamon and sweetness. Wishing for more of this. More of her.
When I pull back, those green eyes study me like I'm a puzzle with missing pieces.
"What was that for?"
"Because I wanted to. Because you're real in a world full of ghosts."
She tilts her head. "What's going on with you?"
The question sinks into me, demanding honesty I'm not used to giving. But I'm tired of the walls between us… walls I built, reinforced, and guarded.
"My life's been... I've seen shit that would turn most people inside out," I say, watching a group of laughing students pass by, oblivious to the darkness lurking just beneath the surface of their manicured world. "Violence, betrayal, depravity. It's like background noise in my life. Been that way since I was a kid."
Her fingers find mine, squeeze gently.
"But with you?" I look down at our joined hands. "With you, there's... silence. Peace. And that terrifies me more than any gun pointed at my head ever could."
"Why?" she asks softly.
"Because I don't deserve it." The words scrape my throat raw. "Because others have suffered due to my failures."
Lila shakes her head, her eyes soft in a way that makes my chest ache. "I can't believe that. Whatever you've done?—"
