Page 24 of Atone

As expected, he doesn’t respond. But I feel him watching. And in the silence, I swear I hear the faintest hum that almost makes me turn back around.

7

LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED

MILA

He gave me an excuse.

That’s what I tell myself as I approach Montgomery with Alex’s sweatshirt in hand.

I could have given it to Patience, who I know came by this morning. But then I would have to answer questions, like how I got the sweatshirt in the first place. She’d wonder why I came to Montgomery without her—in the middle of the night. It only makes sense for me to return it myself.

Hugging the navy-blue sweatshirt to my chest, I step through the doors and consider turning around. Maybe he wouldn’t miss the sweater or mind if I kept it.

But if I do that, I’ll probably sleep in it again. I’ll let it become my crutch when nothing but the smell of Alex has been able to chase away my nightmares. If he knew how this simple piece of clothing sent my mind running rampant, I don’t think he would have offered the sweatshirt to me in the first place.

When I reach the nurses’ station, I’m told Alex is in the courtyard at the back of the property. She points to astairwell, and I follow it outside. A few patients walk past, but they don’t pay me any more attention than I pay them.

It’s like everyone here is lost in their own world.

The back of Montgomery is cooler than it is in the front of the building. Sun-soaked concrete is replaced by dewy grass. A large manicured lawn fills the giant courtyard, with two wings of Montgomery Psychiatric Ward towering on either side. At the back edge is a tree line, and I catch the faint shine of silver from the camouflaged fence that surrounds what the building doesn’t. Flowerbeds burst with color after last night’s rain.

Scanning the courtyard, I spot Alex sitting at a table alone. He’s hunched over his journal, writing, and I make my way over to him.

Some patients walk in circles on a path that surrounds the entire courtyard, while others are at tables farther away. And some toss a ball around in a space free of low-hanging branches.

Out here, it doesn’t feel like a psychiatric ward. It could be any other day at a park.

Alex doesn’t flinch when I stop at the table opposite him. But his pencil pauses as I set the sweatshirt down beside his journal.

“I thought you might want this back.”

His hazel eyes flick up, and every thought eviscerates. Warmth crawls my cheeks when it isn’t that hot outside. My neck prickles. I’m probably blushing when I’m usually good at schooling my expression around people. Hopefully, he doesn’t think much of it.

With his good looks, I doubt it’s strange for him to have a girl’s attention.

I slide onto the bench at the opposite side of the table, not waiting for him to invite me.

Nudging. Pushing.

Finding little ways to fit into his life, whether he wants me here or not.

“Thank you for letting me borrow the sweater.”

I made sure to wash it so he wouldn’t know I slept in it last night, but it somehow still managed to smell like him through the detergent.

He nods, and it knots my throat, so I let my gaze drift to the field. To anything but him before this flicker of interest stokes to something more.

“It’s nice out here. I didn’t realize there was so much green space in the back when the front of the building is a giant parking lot.”

Part of me expected stone walls to surround the rest of Montgomery, like asphalt shields the front from any sort of greenery.

Alex follows my gaze, and I dare to watch him from the corner of my eye. With the sun shining bright in a cloudless sky, his dark-blond hair is brighter. And without the shadows of midnight and nightmares, his expression is gentler.

But his eyes… they meet my gaze, and no matter how much they shine, I see the ghosts underneath.

“You’re writing again?” I ask the obvious, acclimating to the one-sided conversations I have when I’m around him.