Page 35 of Peripheral Vision (Tethered in Darkness Duet #1)

I’m a couple of hours into my shift, with four hours to go when another group pours in.

All I want is to go home. Callum’s suffocating presence hasn’t lessened any even though we haven’t spoken since I came out.

I’m not sure if that’s better or worse at this point.

The group is rowdy, the kind that orders obscure cocktails and barely tips.

I force a smile and try not to let my irritation show as they all cram around the bar, shouting out their drink orders all at once.

Callum was at the other end of the bar when they walked in, but now I hear his voice behind me as he asks, “Need help with that?”

I don’t look at him as I shake my head, starting to pour drinks. “Nope.”

But he doesn’t leave. Instead, he steps close enough I can feel the heat from his body at my back.

I think he is going to say something else, not let it go, but he just grabs pint glasses and starts fulfilling orders despite my protests.

I’m not even sure why I’m acting irritated with him, I did this to us—to him.

Maybe I should have been honest with Audrey earlier and asked to go home, maybe I still will.

I could afford to sit in the silence for a little while, my body yearning for the type that only the night atmosphere can offer.

I’m cleaning up a spill when the glass I lifted up to clean slips from my fingers, shattering on the floor behind the bar.

Heads turn, momentarily distracted by the mess I’ve made, but I ignore them searching for the broom to sweep it up.

Fortunately, it seems like my desire comes to fruition when Audrey approaches me.

“You’re off.”

I glance at her as I begin scooping the glass into my hand since I didn’t see the broom. “What?”

“You’re off. You’ve been off since I got here. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt when you told me you were fine earlier, but I think you need to go home.” Her tone is soft but firm.

“I’m okay, really. I ca?—”

She cuts me off. “Listen, this is one of our least busy nights, you’re scheduled through Saturday, it’s fine.

We got this. Go home, get some sleep, and get your head screwed on straight.

” I glance over at Callum without meaning to, but he isn’t paying attention.

He’s busy with another group at the other end of the bar.

Maybe he’s as done with this night as I am.

A part of me wants to argue with her, but she has just as much authority over me as Callum does and I would rather hear this from her than him.

“Thanks.” I stand up with the pieces I’ve collected into my hand before dumping them into the trash.

She nods. “Feel better, okay?”

I mumble an agreement, leaving the bar and going back to the office to get my things before slipping out the back door without another word.

The night air is cool and sharp, the slight breeze nipping at my skin below my thin jacket.

I lean back against the brick wall, nearly in the same place I spoke with Fletcher before I knew it was him, and just breathe in the night air.

For a moment I just let myself be. The only noise is that which is filtering from inside the bar and from vehicles beyond.

I can only hope that the ache, the weight that has settled in my chest, will resolve when I get home.

But as I push off the wall and start toward my car around the front of the building, I hear the door crack open behind me.

“Hey, I know you don’t want to talk to me.” Callum’s voice is low and uncertain.

I stop but I don’t turn around. “You know that isn’t true.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Some of the things I thought I knew turned out not to be true.” His voice turns clipped, the frustration lingering.

“Okay, so what do you want?” It sounds harsher than I intend for it to, and I almost turn around to apologize, but not before he responds.

“I just—I wanted to tell you to be careful. And that I’m sorry.

” I’m about to ask him what he means, why he’s the one apologizing when I’m the one who did this, but I hear the door close again.

When I turn around, he’s gone. I could text him, ask him what he meant, but I think words are better left unsaid between us at this point.

The ride home feels longer than usual, the streets stretching out endlessly under the dim glow of the streetlights.

I park outside of my house and sit there for a while, dreading going inside and being alone because I know that my thoughts will continue to haunt me even there.

But I have nowhere else to go. Not unless I want to make the five-hour drive back to Norfolk in the middle of the night.

With a sigh, I cut the engine. The truck door feels heavier when I push it open, like it’s trying to keep me inside its secluded and suffocating solitude.

The house is dark when I enter, save for the glow of the porch light as I close the door.

I flip on the overhead in the living room, and it feels too bright.

Alaska lifts her head from her bed as if in agreement.

I drop my bag by the door before locking it and walk to the kitchen, opening the fridge as though I’m going to eat.

I’m not. So instead, I fill a cup with water and stare out the sliding glass door into the darkness.

It seems to match what’s going on in my head.

A suffocating ink that has been spilled over the pages of my life, leaving no room to decipher their meaning.

The phone in my pocket buzzes, and I flinch.

My heart speeds up as I pull it out—will it be Callum or an ominous message from Fletcher?

As I unlock my screen, it’s just a notification.

I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed.

I lock the phone again and set it down with a sigh.

If there is one thing I do feel, it’s the sensation of something crawling underneath my skin.

Before I have a chance to overthink it, I say bye to Alaska again and step out into the awaiting darkness.

Cold air slaps me in the face, wrapping me in an embrace like an unfeeling touch, but I don’t care.

I just need to move, to breathe, to be .

Nature is grounding in a way that slows you down, like a deep breath in the middle of a storm.

The chaos of life becomes insignificant as it reminds you that there is an order to things, so I allow it to lead me where it will tonight.

I’m not sure how long I walk for, but when I finally calm down enough to open my senses, I realize I’ve wandered far into the woods beyond my house.

The moon is high in the sky, barely reaching beyond the thickness of the trees.

I reach into my pocket to check the time, but I forgot I left my phone on the counter.

I don’t think I got turned around while I’ve been in here, I’m fairly positive I’ve walked in a straight line, so I turn around and start to make my way back.

I don’t make it more than a few steps before I hear the steady crunch of leaves a few paces away.