Page 125 of In Case You Didn't Know

I run a hand over my mouth, pressing my fingers hard enough to hurt.

“It’s getting late,” I say, my voice tight. “We can’t do anymore today. Send everybody home and I’ll lock up.”

Brad catches my eye. Like he wants to say more. But then he thinks better of it and nods.

He leaves and I sit at my desk for a long moment. Staring at the printed image before turning it over and sliding it into the drawer.

When I hear them all leave, I stand and grab my coat, pushing through the empty corridor to the main door. Making sure it’s locked up and the alarms are on – even though it feels pointless right now – I head for the stairwell and outside into the cool night air.

I close my eyes for a second, trying to breathe through the pressure building in my chest. Then I reach for my phone. I need to hear her voice.

Just for a minute. To remember what she sounds like when she doesn’t know what a fucking idiot I am.

The line connects after the second ring.

“Hey you.” Her voice is soft and warm and makes my chest ache. “How was your day?”

Of course she’d ask about me first. “Tiring. But more importantly how did yours go? Are your brothers still talking to you?” My car pulls up at the sidewalk and I hop in, giving the driver a nod.

“They took it really well, actually,” she says. “Even Myles. Who now knows what spicy means and wishes he didn’t.” She laughs and I want to join in. I want to trace her lips with my fingers.

I want to disappear in her.

I let out a quiet breath that might almost pass for a laugh. “I bet that was interesting. And I’m not surprised they took it well. They love you.”

“Still,” she says. “It was scary. But… kind of amazing. For the first time I felt like I belonged.”

My throat tightens. I want to tell her everything. About Shaun. About the cameras and the image.

But instead I say, “I’m proud of you.”

And I mean it.

There’s a pause. Then her voice drops. “I miss you,” she tells me.

God, I miss her too. The scent of her hair against my face. The sound she makes when she’s half asleep and I brush her skin with my fingertips.

The way she looks at me like I’m not the dipshit I know I am.

She keeps talking, telling me about her brothers’ offer to help her build a cabin by the lake, and how happy and free she feels now that everything is in the open. Her voice soothes me as the car drives me to my apartment building, as she tells me they’re all having brunch tomorrow before her brothers have to leave.

“So I’ll head back to New York instead of Liberty,” she says. “I can write there as easily as anywhere else, especially now that my apartment is back to normal.”

“You should head back to Liberty,” I say, my voice thick. “Things are still… going on here. It’s going to take a few days for me to straighten things out.”

“Oh.” She sounds sad. But the thought of her being here, so close to everything that’s going on, makes my stomach sick.

There’s a soft pause on the line. Then, “Okay, Liberty it is. I’ll head back to the lighthouse and finish the book.”

“We can celebrate when you’re done,” I murmur.

“We’d better.”

I huff a quiet laugh. “And Francie?”

“Yeah?”

“I miss you more.”