Page 8 of Midnight Between Us (The Timberbridge Brothers #4)

Chapter Five

Keir

There’s buzzing behind my eyes.

Like the static just before the power cuts out—that half-second when the world forgets how to hold itself together.

Nothing makes sense. It’s all wrong. Off. Like a dream I can’t control or a life I don’t recognize. Not that I remember what mine looked like. Did I even have a life?

It’s been so long. Too fucking long.

I don’t know anything. I’m everywhere, nowhere, and in between. Sometimes, I can move. Others, I’m stuck, having trouble breathing or even keeping myself afloat.

I’m not on a rock this time. Just a staircase. Concrete, old. The railing is rusted, with paint curling off in long strips, like it’s trying to shed its skin. Thank fuck my legs work this time. I take one step. Then another.

My shoes echo through whatever surrounds me. A building? A castle . . . who knows. There’s just a loud, haunted, hollow sound. This feels real, and yet not real enough. Like I’m walking through a memory that someone else built.

Each door I pass is the same: gray, bolted shut, without knobs. Every landing blend into the next. I could walk forever and still be right here.

I stop. Press my hand to the wall.

It pulses. Not with life. With memory.

A flash.

Her fingers tangled in my hair.

Her voice, breathless. “Don’t leave me. Take me with you . . .”

Then—nothing.

Silence, again.

Then I’m back on the stairs.

I don’t know what’s worse—what shit I can’t remember or listening to the voice begging me not to go.

Now I’m in a hallway. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, flickering in a rhythm that evokes a sense of panic. The floor has black-and-white tiles, endless and warping at the edges like it’s collapsing in on itself.

There’s a girl up ahead.

Not a child. Just a petite barefoot woman. Hair damp, tangled. She walks slowly, as if she has already given up on being found.

“Wait,” I call out.

My voice cracks.

She doesn’t stop.

I move forward—legs dragging, heavy, as if I’m sinking in tar. The hallway stretches. She grows smaller.

Still walking.

Still leaving.

“Please,” I shout.

She pauses.

I run. Push harder. Everything in me screams for this to end. My breath catches in my throat.

I reach her.

She turns.

It’s not her anymore. Now it’s me.

At least, I think it’s me until the face begins to bleed.

I stumble back, breath catching—mud in my mouth. I’m on the ground now, choking and gagging on dirt. I claw up, nails tearing. The earth shifts just enough to trick me into thinking I can escape—but then swallows me deeper.

I shout.

No one hears.

Hands reach down.

Feminine. They feel familiar.

Her voice again. “You have to stay. You can’t fucking die, you hear me?”

She’s trying to pull me out, fingertips wrapped around my wrist. I want to trust her. I want to believe she can save me.

And I almost do—until she disappears.

Then it’s night again.

We’re in the back of an old truck. The seat belt digs into my ribs. My chest burns. I can’t breathe. Can’t move. My lungs scream. And she laughs as if we’re just two kids messing around. Like I’m not breaking apart inside.

The truck moves.

Toward the lake.

I want to ask for help. I want her not to leave me. I reach for her—grabbing air.

“Please,” I whisper.

She turns her face away, opens the door, and steps out.

“Don’t leave,” I beg.

But she doesn’t stop. She fucking leaves me behind.

I try to scream her name. Attempt to say it—Don’t go, take me with you. I almost tell her I love her. Almost.

I don’t know why I’m begging.

I should be able to get out.

I should be strong enough to leave.

But I can’t move.

The truck hits the water.

The sound is deafening. Metal twisting. Water rushing in.

I thrash, but it’s useless. Panic claws up my throat. I open my mouth, and the lake fills me.

I’m drowning.

Not just in water—but in the knowing that I’m going to die alone.

Then—

I’m back on the rock.

Same drizzle.

Same numb burn in my body.

But this time, I remember. I’ve been here before.

I know now.

I’m trapped.

And it’s breaking something loose inside me.

I slam my fists into the dirt. “Let me out,” I roar.

Nothing.

I scream her name, but it doesn’t sound like a name anymore. Doesn’t sound like anything. Just a noise. A howl that doesn’t belong to a person.

My throat tears, and yet I can’t hear myself.

Silence.

Then—

Her voice.

Like a radio cutting through static.

“We’re heading home. You just need to wake up.”

I whip around.

She’s not there. It’s just her voice hanging in the air.

My heart lurches. My chest seizes.

I reach for the sound—arms outstretched fingers grasping empty space. The air is thick and unyielding. It slips through me. I fight harder. Push forward like I can claw my way through it.

“Don’t go,” I gasp. “Please—don’t leave me again.”

My body jerks.

Once. Twice.

Pain shoots down my spine, white-hot and blinding. I’m moving—but not by choice. My limbs convulse like something’s trying to rip me out of this place. Like the world is tugging me toward something I’m not ready for.

I try to grab hold of her voice. Wrap my hands around it. Pull myself into the sound.

But it’s already fading.

“Wake up, Keir,” she says again.

I scream. Not with sound but with every cell in my body.

Then—

A jolt.

A snap inside my chest.

And I’m gone.