Page 31 of Please Don’t Go (The Midnight Strike #1)

JOSIE

Mother: Be there in thirty minutes. I hope everything is as I left it.

I don’t understand the point of her coming home when we’re not going to spend Christmas together.

I sit in the living room, deciding I’m not going to reply to her message. I stare at the Christmas tree she put up without me. Not that we’ve ever put it up together, or really do anything together. Unless it has to do with swimming. That’s the only thing she wants to be involved in.

After an hour of waiting, I decide to put my irritation aside and text her. She should’ve already been here.

Me: Everything is as you left it.

One hour and a half later.

I’m pacing and bouncing between texting, calling, or doing nothing at all. She’ll get annoyed with me if I text her too much. But this is so unlike her. If she was going to do something else, she would’ve told me so I wouldn’t wait up for her.

Two hours later.

Fuck it.

“This is Claudia Resendiz, leave a message after the tone.”

“Mom, hey, I’m sorry for bothering you, but I just wanted to make sure everything’s okay. Just text me back.”

Four hours, ten voicemails, and twenty text messages later and the doorbell chimes.

Scurrying to the door, I don’t think as I open it. Two police officers stand outside, their hardened expressions softening when they look at me.

All the blood rushes to my head, making me dizzy, but I firmly hold the doorknob, doing my best to stay balanced.

“Hey, I’m Sergeant Grant Hanson and this is my partner, Jorge Chavez. Are you Josefine Resendiz?” I nod. “Do you mind if we come in?”

I absently shake my head, pulling the door back to let them both in. Then he asks if we can take a seat, but I stay standing because I’m not sure I can physically move anymore.

He sighs. It’s so quiet but I catch the heaviness of it, feel it deep in my bones and the faintest, most empathetic smile on Jorge’s face has me seeing black dots.

“Are you the daughter of Claudia Resendiz?” Grant asks and all I can do is nod. “Your mom was in a serious car crash and she was rushed to Monterey Regional Medical Center, but she did not survive.”

“No,” I laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. “She said she was going to be here in thirty minutes. She texted me.” I pull up the message and show him. “See? That couldn’t be her. That’s not her. That couldn’t…no.”

He speaks for what feels like an eternity, but even though he’s standing right in front of me, I can’t hear a word he’s saying. I try to call her again, but she doesn’t answer.

I hear “I’m sorry” a multitude of times. From both Grant and Jorge. But it doesn’t settle until Grant asks, “Is there a friend or relative who could come over and drive you to the hospital?”

“No, I have no one else.”

Sinking down to the floor next to my bed, I bring my legs to my chest, circling my arms around them. My heart is racing and I’m profusely sweating. My hair sticks to my neck.

I shut my eyes, doing my best to control my shallow breathing and to stop myself from hyperventilating. He’s alive, I know he’s okay, I saw him. It’s what I tell myself, over and over again, but even though I saw him, I’m struggling to breathe. I can’t stop sweating.

“Josie.”

I lift my head, turning it to my right where it came from. Daniel’s in my bedroom, standing before he’s sitting next to me.

“I thought I told you to leave.” I look away, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from going off on him again. My face burns and my vision blurs, eyes welling with tears I refuse to let spill.

“Jos, look at me,” he gently says, his voice pleading.

I don’t want to, but I can’t shut him out.

“What?” I sniffle and hate myself as a lone tear streaks down my cheek, but staring at him only forces more out. A lump grows in my throat, making it hard to speak but that doesn’t stop the stupid choked sob to get past my mouth.

“It’s okay, Josie. I’m right here.”

I don’t fight him when he wraps an arm around my shoulder and the other around my front, hauling me to him. He holds me firmly, letting me break down in his arms. He doesn’t ask me what’s wrong or badger me with questions. He only rubs my arm until I’m sniffling.

I’m not sure how I manage to speak, but once I do, I can’t stop. “You can’t promise you’re going to be here at a certain time and then not show up. You can’t make those kinds of promises. You shouldn’t make them if you can’t keep them.”

“I’m sorry, Josie.” He hooks a finger under my wet chin and makes me look at him. His eyes bore into mine, then sweep over my face, before he wipes away the remaining tears. “I had every intention of being here on time. I’m sorry for worrying you. I promise I didn’t mean to.”

Words get caught in my throat. Ugly, vivid images play in my head.

“I’m here,” he says and grabs my hand, making me cup his cheek. He keeps his large palm over my hand, the other still around my shoulder. “Do you feel me?”

I sniffle again and nod.

“I’m right here,” he fervently says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t make those promises,” I croak.

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you through that,” he sincerely says. “Do you still feel me?”

I nod again and when he drops his palm, I brush my finger on his cheek. It’s not until I do that, that I realize I’m holding my breath and when I release it, everything in me eases. It’s then I realize something I hadn’t before: I’m sitting on his lap.

He doesn’t look uncomfortable or weird like he had Monday night, but I know I should move. I’m okay now and I’m sure he knows that, but as if he were reading my mind, he says, “I’m here as long as you need me to be. You do what you need to do.”

I should get up, but I don’t. With my hand still on his cheek, I rest my head on his shoulder, close my eyes, and exhale a shaky breath.

“Mom texted me and said she was going to be home in thirty minutes.”

He holds me tighter. I know he knows, like everyone in town knows, how she died. A man had been on something, was speeding, and hit her head-on. He lived because of course they always do, but she died on impact.

“Please…” I whimper. The thought of something happening to him painfully grips me. “Don’t do that again.”

“I promise I won’t,” he says against my head, and I feel him place a chaste kiss there.

My face warms, but I don’t put too much thought into it. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

I drag my fingers down his jawline. There’s more I should probably say and do. I should get off him, stop touching him, stop whatever it is I’m doing, but I can’t bring myself to do anything that my brain is shouting at me to do.

When my fingers are at his chin, I lift them but hesitate when they’re beneath his bottom lip. But then he tips his head down just a little and my fingers slip.

I brush them along his lips and feel his warm breath. My heart rate spikes when he kisses them or at least that’s what it felt like to me. But when I feel it again, I know it wasn’t my imagination.

I want to look up at him. I want it to be my lips instead. I want a lot of things, but those things aren’t meant for me.

Daniel is perfect and I’m far from okay. I should think it through, but I also don’t want to.

So I tilt my head back, looking up at him and find him already staring down at me. His eyes burn me and hold me in place, then they dip to my lips.

He doesn’t make a move, he doesn’t do anything but smile at me, and says something that feels like a slap to reality.

“I just want to remind you that as your friend, you can confide in me, Josie. Talk to me about whatever you want. I’m here for you.”

Friend. Right.

He’s just a big flirt, too friendly by default. He’d never like me like that.

“Thanks.” I go to climb off him but feel him tighten around me.

I’m sure it’s my brain messing with me because when I do it again, his arms fall to his side.

As if him running away Monday wasn’t an indication that he’s not at all remotely interested in me.

He’s being nice; I shouldn’t mistake that for anything else.

For a moment neither one of us says anything. We sit next to each other until I finally break the silence.

“The reason I texted you was because I wanted to talk about our living arrangement.”

He tenses next to me and winces. “Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstay my welcome. I promise to get all my stuff and?—”

“No, that’s not it.” I twist my ring, feeling anxious about what I’m going to say. Maybe I should think it through some more but that would do nothing because I know what I want.

“No?”

“No. I wanted to ask—and you don’t have to and don’t feel obligated—if you wanted to move in?

” I know it’s too soon, he’s only been here for a week, but he’s slept over since Monday.

“I know you have your house and bills and you’d have to find someone to take over and whatnot, but if you want to, you can move in. ”

For a long moment, he’s silent. Did I rush this? It’s only been a week? What the hell was I thinking?

It just feels nice having someone here. Sure, when he’s not, it’s quiet, but it’s not the same silence as before.

It’s a different kind of silence, like the kind you know is temporary.

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I look forward to hearing his alarm in the morning.

It’s not any different than mine, but it’s nice knowing it’s someone else’s.

That someone else is here, filling the silence I’ve been struggling to fill.

“Forget I said anything.” I go to stand, but his words stop me.

“I was actually thinking about asking you the same thing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it all week. I almost chickened out because I thought maybe it’s too quick and maybe you want your space back. But I see I was wrong because you like having me here as much as I like seeing you, even if it’s not much.”

I almost smile but force my lips to remain still until my cheeks betray me, and I know he notices.

“It’s not that I like having you here, but you cook. So don’t get it twisted. That’s the only reason why I want you here.”

“Mm-hmm, right. I’m going to pretend you don’t enjoy my presence as much as I enjoy yours.” He grins.

“You enjoy my presence?” I make it sound playful but really, I’m a little desperate to hear him say yes. Because as stupid as it’s going to sound, I want to hear someone say it again. Someone to say how much they like being around me.

“Yes.” He doesn’t miss a beat when he answers. “I love being around you and doing things with you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

This time, I smile and his eyes don’t miss it. They never do. “So…you really want to move in?”

“How much would you judge me if I told you my car is sort of packed?”

My lips part in surprise. “You have stuff in your car?”

“Just a few necessary things.”

I tuck my hair behind my ear. Dammit. Don’t do that. He’s not into me. “Oh, I’m judging you, but also, do you need help getting your stuff out?”

He offers me a crooked grin, his gaze coasting down to my lips. I’m not smiling but now I want to. They stay there, then he blinks and looks away.

“No, Josie, I don’t need your help but thank you.” His gaze dips to my lips again. I need him to stop doing that . I watch his Adam’s apple bob, but his grumbling stomach makes the hot atmosphere cool.

“Hungry?” I tease, pretending like I don’t want to kiss him again.

He’s not into me.

“Can you tell?” He stands and holds his hand out. “You want to grab something to eat?”

I take his hand, and he pulls me to stand. “What do you have in mind?”