Page 20 of Closer Than You Think
As I round the corner, I'm not alone.
“Sorry—” The word cuts off as my body collides with a solid mass, my shoulder slamming into the broad chest of Silas Thatcher. His reflex is instant, his arm snaking out to stabilize me, but in doing so, our bodies brush against each other, an electric charge crackling through the scant space between us.
“Careful there, Hallie,” he murmurs, his deep voice resonating in the confined space. His hand is warm on my arm, a startling contrast to the chill that has infiltrated my bones.
My breath hitches at the sudden proximity. “I didn't see you,” I say, though it's hardly an explanation. Silas has a way of appearing, almost as if materializing from the shadows themselves.
“Clearly.” There's a hint of amusement in his tone, but it does nothing to ease the tension that zips through me.
“Are you okay?” His eyes search mine, his concern genuine—or so it seems. Everything about Silas is a puzzle, a myriad of questions etched into the lines of his face. I notice he doesn’t remove his hand from me and I don’t complain.
“Yeah, just . . . a lot on my mind.” I try for nonchalance, but the tremor in my voice betrays me.
“Anything I can help with?” His offer hangs in the air, tempting and terrifying in equal measure.
“Maybe.” The word slips out before I can stop it. Maybe I do want his help. Or maybe I just want him. “Sorry, probably not. Thank you, though.”
He stares at me for a moment, and I can tell he wants to say something else. But instead, he simply removes his hand from my arm and I mourn the loss of his touch.
“Let me know if you decide.” He steps back, granting me space to breathe, space to think. But thinking is the last thing I want to do when every instinct screams at me to act.
“Thanks, Silas.” I force a smile, weak and wobbly as it is, and make my way to my door.
Inside my apartment, the silence is deafening. The rosary burns a hole in my pocket, a constant reminder of the possible danger I’m in.
And Silas’s face appears at the forefront of my mind, leaving me reeling from overthinking.
I can't ignore the pull—of the mystery, of Silas, of the inexplicable connection I feel to him.
“Damn it, Hallie,” I chide myself. Escape is what I need, yet here I am, drawn like a moth to a flame.
My fingers itch to knock on his door, to seek his . . . what? Support? Protection? I don’t even know that I am in danger, let alone from what. Or whom.
But I can’t take it anymore. The need within me boils over, and before I can second-guess myself, I find my feet carrying me back into the hallway.
My heart hammers against my ribcage, each beat a drumroll as I stand before Silas's door. It's now or never. With a deep inhale, I raise my hand and rap sharply on the wood.
“Silas,” I call out, my voice steadier than I feel. “Maybe you can help.”
No turning back now.
Ten
Silas
The city's pulse throbs through the apartment’s thin walls, a constant reminder of the life I lead—a life steeped in shadows and blood. My fingers trace the cool surface of the glass, the skyline's reflection distorted by the scars that mar my skin.
She haunts me—the innocence in her eyes, the warmth of her smile, the way she looks at me as if I'm more than the sum of my sins. Not that she knows anything about my sins. Or anything about me, for that matter. But I can’t help think that she feels some kind of connection too.
Hallie is the light piercing through my darkness, and it terrifies me. Because what happens when that light gets too close? It either gets snuffed out or it burns.
A knock shatters the silence, jolting me back to the present. I stalk towards the door, muscles coiled, every nerve on edge. I chastise myself for letting down my guard for even a moment.
I look through the peephole and see Hallie, her expression tight with urgency, a storm brewing behind those gentle eyes.
“Silas?” Her voice quivers as I swing the door open, stepping aside to let her into the apartment.
“Come in, Hallie.” I can't keep the rough edge from my words, the product of a night spent wrestling with demons instead of sleep.
