Page 9

TIES

MILA

The psychiatric ward is eerie this late at night. It’s an ice box with the air conditioner pumping at full blast through the vents, sending a shiver up my stiff spine.

I barely notice the few people I pass as I walk the halls, still in a haze from what happened outside the carnival with Oxy. An equal mix of shame and rage battle it out in my chest as I replay his hands pinning me to the car.

Is it my fault?

I’ve let everyone here think I’m weak. Easy . Someone they wouldn’t suspect, so I could get past their defenses. I let them take bits and pieces of my dignity to hide in plain sight. But that doesn’t mean they’re owed what I’m not willing to offer.

Fuck him.

The nurse barely glances up at me as I pass the nurses’ station on Alex’s floor. It’s well past visiting hours, but she doesn’t say anything.

I doubt the Lancasters have to abide by those kinds of rules, given the amount of money Alex’s family throws at everything. One of the wings at Montgomery is named after them.

The maze of hallways is quiet, and I follow the path by heart.

Most doors are closed this time of night, but when I reach Alex’s, I find it isn’t. It’s either an invitation or a dare when being here is a bad idea for so many reasons.

Sigma Sin breeds nothing but trouble, and here I am stepping into the center of it.

They might have broken Alex’s mind with what they did, but he’s still one of them. That much was clear when I passed Declan in the parking lot after dropping off the book to Alex.

Patience hates the fraternity that put her brother in this place, but Alex clearly still has ties to them.

My nerves start to buzz as I find the courage to step into Alex’s room, where he’s still sitting on the window seat. If he hears my footsteps, he doesn’t let it show. His expressionless gaze stays fixed out the window.

His bed is messy with the comforter half hanging on the floor and a corner of the fitted sheet ripped free. It’s clear he tried to sleep at some point tonight, but it must not have lasted long. His hair is messy, and there’s a sweat stain on his sheet that hints at nightmares.

I wonder how frequently he relives his trauma. How often the ghosts from his past visit.

Mine find me almost every night.

The thought stalls as I reach Alex at the window. When he doesn’t look at me or immediately hint that he wants me to leave, I take the spot opposite him on the bench. Leaning against the frame with one foot tucked under my opposite leg, I follow his gaze to the nearly empty parking lot.

Clouds hang heavy in the sky, blanketing the corner of the moon. Darkness deepens with every gust, until the only light is the dim glow of the streetlamps. I tasted rain in the air at the carnival, so it’s only a matter of time before the clouds release what I can’t.

Alex works his hand into a fist. Tightening it until his forearm shakes. He does it again and again, but only on the scarred side of his body.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” I say when the break in the clouds lights up our faces. “Honestly, I don’t know why I came. One second, I was at the carnival, and the next…”

The next… what?

Oxy was pinning me against my car. He was calling me a whore for spending time with the man sitting in front of me now. One who barely looks at me, much less anything else.

Alex’s eyes slide my way when I don’t finish my sentence, and his gaze is downright haunting. Only half present. He might still be battling whatever demons woke him in the middle of the night.

His stare holds mine, flicking between my eyes. Tracing the ridge of my cheek and down my jaw. Pausing at my lips.

The gap between us shrinks even if neither of us moves. He doesn’t need to touch me for me to feel him.

Slowly, Alex’s stare dips down farther, until he’s focusing on my blood-splattered jeans.

The constant flex of his fingers pauses, and his shoulders stiffen. Without a word, his hazel eyes meet mine in a question, and the rage I sense lives inside him slices through the night.

“You should see the other guy.” I breathe out a laugh, trying to make light of the situation, but my joke falls flat. “ Seriously though, don’t worry. It’s not my blood. I’m perfectly capable of defending myself.”

Maybe that’s not much better because why should I have to? Why can’t people keep their hands to themselves?

Alex’s stare ices over. The green in his gaze is eaten up by his dark pupils. Leaving nothing more than black pools that tempt me as much as they scare me the longer I look into them.

“Really, Alex, I’m fine.” I try to reassure him, but the tension in his shoulders has yet to dissipate. “It was a misunderstanding in the carnival parking lot. And trust me—he got what was coming to him. I don’t need anyone to protect me.”

I don’t need anyone but myself.

Something about Alex’s expression tells me he doesn’t believe me. But the tick of his jaw says he’s letting it go for now.

I’m learning his reactions—possibly misinterpreting them. But at least I’m trying when that’s all the scraps he offers.

“You have a really nice view of the forest from up here.” I change the subject, turning back to the window.

“It makes me wish the window in my bedroom didn’t just face a wall.

But with how the dorms are positioned, there’s not much choice.

Your sister was set on the room facing the courtyard, and since I was the only one who didn’t seem to care, I took what was left when Teal and Violet were done choosing. ”

I’m rambling again. Alex seems to bring this out of me. Which almost makes me laugh because there’s no way he cares how I chose my bedroom in my shared dorm room. I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t kicked me out yet.

If he’s annoyed, he doesn’t show it .

The tension has yet to cool, but his hand is no longer clenched.

I usually try to avoid staring at Alex when I’m here because it feels disrespectful.

Tonight, I can’t seem to stop myself. I watch his face, reading the tension in his clenched teeth.

I trace the scars that peek out of the collar of his shirt and skitter up his neck, nearly reaching his jawline.

They go all the way down his left arm, spreading like a spiderweb onto the back of his hand.

There are so many questions I’m not brave enough to ask. Like what happened at his trial. Or what happened after. How does he get through the day with that haunted look in his eyes? Is it worth it?

If Patience is right, he could leave Montgomery. Or, at the very least, he could try to get better.

Why doesn’t he?

Glancing down at Alex’s hand again, I notice a journal sitting beside him. His pencil is the bookmark about two-thirds of the way through.

“Do you spend a lot of your free time writing?” I ask, nodding to the book. “Patience said you used to write short stories and poetry back in high school and that you were pretty good at it. I’ve never been much of a writer myself, but I’ve always admired people who are naturally creative.”

Leaning forward, I dare to brush my fingers over the leather journal. It’s etched in a design I don’t recognize. There are two swirls that almost resemble mirrored S’s with a vine wrapping around them. It reminds me of the delicate designs painted on the merry-go-round horses at the carnival.

Whimsical. Secretive.

Alex pulls the book into his lap.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched that. ”

I’m crossing lines by being here in his room. And with every sentence, every move, I probably make him regret leaving his door open.

Alex doesn’t meet my gaze as he flips his journal open to the page with the pencil. His eyes move back and forth as he reads what’s written there. After a long moment, he finally looks up at me, surprising me by handing me the journal.

“Are you sure?”

He nods, so I take it.

The leather binding is smooth in my hands, and the pages are thick and sturdy. The journal heavier than I expected. But it’s more than the quality of the leather, it’s the weight of what he’s given.

A peek inside the mind of Alex Lancaster.

What makes him think I can be trusted with this information?

Alex doesn’t take his eyes off me as I lean back against the windowsill with the journal in my hands. My fingers trace over his handwriting like it’s a piece of him. Alex’s letters are jagged. All hard edges. No softness.

The page is mostly empty, but there are a few sentences scrawled at the top, and something compels me to read them out loud.

“ Stars die in eyes like yours.

Not even the night can survive that kind of darkness.

The teeth of the black hole open at your will, and we’re all too busy staring to feel the first pull of gravity as it reaps and claims.

They say take a breath.

Close your eyes.

But there’s no relief in the night. ”

It’s heartbreaking, even if I don’t fully understand it.

Words that hint at a mind I can’t wrap mine around. But I try anyway. To cling to his words by reading them over and over. I imagine his voice saying them, even if I have no idea what he sounds like.

I’m tempted to turn the page. To go back. To keep reading. To learn everything there is to know about a man who wages wars within his own head. It must be exhausting. But I know better than to push, so I reluctantly close the journal on the page he offered me and hand it back to him.

“Thank you for letting me read that.”

He nods, tucking the journal back at his side.

“I have nightmares sometimes,” I admit, feeling like a secret given means a secret owed.

“I don’t know if that’s what you were talking about in that passage, but that’s what it made me think of.

I try to tell myself that eventually they’ll go away.

But that’s the problem with things that are only half imagination. They never really do.”

I pull a hair tie off my wrist and wrangle my hair back into a ponytail, suddenly very hot as Alex watches me.

I’ve never wanted to read someone’s mind like I want to do his just to know what he’s thinking.

Probably: why hasn’t this girl left me alone yet?

I tug my ponytail tight, and my hands fall to my lap. “Sometimes I tell myself the nightmares aren’t such a bad thing. At least I can wake up from them. And at least they mean I haven’t fully forgotten.”

I’m saying too much, even if I’m not saying anything at all. But I can’t seem to help it. Alex feels like a safe space in a world that isn’t .

“Anyway, you don’t want to hear me ramble about my sleep habits. I’m sure you have more important things on your mind.” I tangle my fingers in my lap, avoiding his gaze. “Besides, I’m fine.”

If I say it enough, I’ll believe it.

I’m fine.

I’m fine.

“I should let you get some sleep.” I force a smile and stand. “Thanks for keeping me company tonight. I know I kind of forced it on you by showing up unannounced, but I appreciate it all the same.”

Alex shrugs, and it’s…

Borderline playful?

Or maybe I’m just terrible at reading people.

I move to stand, and Alex follows, suddenly towering over me and forcing my neck to crane to meet his gaze.

Except, he’s not looking at me. His stare is locked on the sleeve I used to wipe Oxy’s blood from the back of my hand. He surprises me by reaching for it, tugging the fabric away from my arm so he can brush the pad of his thumb over the dried blood.

That simple gesture has my body burning for his touch.

Touch he denies, much like the relief he mentions in his journal entry.

When Alex’s hand falls away, he turns and walks to his dresser. Opening one of the drawers, he pulls out a hoodie.

“It’s not cold tonight,” I assure him.

But he glances back to the window as the first raindrop spatters the pane. It multiplies quickly, until water makes rivers on the glass.

“Oh, right.” I watch the rain spill down the pane. “Thanks.”

Alex unfolds the hoodie, handing it to me .

I slip it on, and I’m swimming in it, but it’s warm and soft as butter inside. It smells like Alex, and I have to force myself not to pull the collar to my nose and risk him thinking I’m juvenile or obsessed.

His expression is unreadable as he steps closer and reaches for the hood, pulling it up over my ponytail. He barely avoids touching me, no matter how badly I ache for it.

With my neck still tilted, I stare up at him for a minute. I look into his eyes and wonder what they look like when he smiles. What he sounds like when he talks. How he feels when he’s not so closed off.

I wonder if there’s any light left inside him, when his sister seems certain the House burned it out.

“Thanks for the hoodie.” I step back and clear my throat, putting some distance between us before I do something reckless like try to close this gap. “I’ll make sure I get it back to you tomorrow. Have a good night, Alex.”

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.