Page 61 of Please Don’t Go (The Midnight Strike #1)

DANIEL

“You know, I’m starting to think you lied to me.” I lift my goggles and wipe the water off my face with my palm.

Josie’s brows scrunch in. “Lied about what?”

“I don’t think you really like me.”

She rolls her eyes, sputtering an incredulous laugh. “Okay, break is over.”

I grab her waist before she can move. “I just got back. I thought we’d watch a movie and cuddle, not be here. It’s not that I don’t appreciate you doing this. I do. I just really want to hold you.” I circle my arms around her waist, tugging her close to my chest.

Her lips curl up just a little. “You’re so needy.”

“I am for you.” I kiss the crown of her head.

It’s been ten days since St. Patrick’s Day and since things sort of changed between us. It’s nothing drastic, but enough change that my feelings for Josefine have evolved into something more fierce.

Our relationship doesn’t have a label, but we’re doing enough that Josie doesn’t feel overwhelmed or suffocated. And it’s enough for me. I’m not second-guessing what we are because I know she likes me. She’s allowing me in and that’s all I want.

“That sounds enticing.”

“Yeah?” I slip my hands under the water and cup her ass. She lifts her legs and wraps them around me.

“Yeah.” She tips her head back, lips brushing against mine ever so slightly. “But we’re not going anywhere until we’re done.”

I groan but peck her lips. “Tease.”

“And if you want me to go to the game tomorrow, you gotta show me that you’ve improved.”

I softly groan. “Really, Jos? I thought you’d come now because I’m yours and you’re mine. I’ll beg.”

I’ll never get over the tint of pink on her cheeks anytime I say that.

“That changes nothing, Garcia. I know you don’t care about this, but I really do.” She cups my cheeks, softly smiling at me. “I want you to learn. It’s important to me, and it should be to you too.”

Dropping my gaze, I say nothing because I don’t know what to say. She’s been teaching me for two months now and while I’ve slightly improved, I don’t believe I’ll ever learn. I keep begging that she give up, but she’s stubborn and won’t.

“Come here.” She unhooks her legs from me and grabs my hand, pulling me with her. We stop at the wall. She lifts up, sits on the edge of the pool, and motions for me to do the same. I don’t question and do as she says.

For a while neither one of us says anything.

I think I know what she’s going to say and while I could work a way around the conversation, I decide to let it be.

Usually anxiety spikes, sending my mind and heart to go manic, attempting to abort and run, hide, do something other than talk about what I usually would rather bury, but she somehow makes that not happen.

I can’t say my anxiety and dark consuming thoughts have disappeared, but she makes me feel really good. She’s therapy and medicine all in one. I feel anchored and high all at once with her.

I don’t think she knows the control, the grip, she has over me. I don’t think she understands what I’d do for her, how strongly I feel for her.

She grabs my hand and laces her fingers through mine. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

A knot forms in my throat and my chest tightens. “Uh…I…”

“You don’t have to tell me anything, but I want you to know that I’m here.” She delicately traces figure eights on top of my hand, over my knuckles, along my fingers.

I kiss the top of her head, and stare over the horizon, absorbing my surroundings.

It’s a pretty peaceful Thursday. The air smells saltier than ever and the seagulls are loud but not obnoxious.

In the distance, I hear the ocean’s wave lap, and the sky is painted in pretty streaks of pink, purple, and orange.

I hardly see her. I don’t want to ruin today with the depressing memories, but I also do want to talk. It’s getting harder and harder not to speak about it. I stopped a long time ago because I didn’t want to sound like a broken record.

Puffing out a fatigued breath, I rake my fingers through my wet hair. I shift uncomfortably, feeling on edge, my gaze flitting to the deep part of the pool.

“I…” I sullenly laugh. “I’m sorry, I thought I could do this, but I can’t.” My throat constricts and my body feels painfully stiff.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to say anything,” she softly supplies, still dragging her finger along my skin. “I’m here either way.”

I look down at her and she looks up at me. “I had to be sedated,” I somehow manage to say.

She doesn’t look shocked or confused; she just nods, and her gaze darts to our hands.

“They said he was dead, but I…” I clear my hoarse throat.

“I couldn’t believe that. I was there. I saw it happen.

I saw them do CPR. I saw his body and how his eyes…

” My teeth clatter and I grind them to make it stop.

I breathe out heavily and slowly. “Just an hour ago, he was laughing, and then he was not. They said he was dead, and my brain—they said I was in shock.” I don’t blink as tears fill my vision, blurring everything around me.

“I had to be sedated and when I woke up, I had to hear it again and again because Mom couldn’t stop repeating it.

It was like if she said it enough times, it wouldn’t be real.

And then my dad, he…” I shake my head. “Leaving the hospital without him should’ve made it real, but it didn’t.

Leaving the hospital was…” My voice cracks and I drop my head because the tears are coming and I can’t make them stop. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she whispers despondently like she understands, and I know she does.

“Let yourself feel. Making yourself numb will only make you want to stop breathing. So, talk to me. Let yourself feel. It hurts and that’ll probably never go away, but you can share your pain with me.

I can’t promise I’ll make it go away, but I’ll do my best to lessen it. ”

She raises her hands, wipes my tears away from my cheeks, and continues tracing her finger over my hand.

“I don’t want to give you my pain.”

“I have pain; you have pain. I’m pretty sure they’ll somehow cancel each other out.”

That’s nowhere near being true, but I find myself laughing. She peers up at me, a tender smile on her face as her eyes search mine.

“I know I didn’t make sense, and I know I should tell you the whole story. And it’s not that I don’t want to tell you how he?—”

“It made sense, and you don’t need to tell me anything,” she reassures me. “Grief is funny,” she repeats my words from a while ago and squeezes my hand. “And really weird.”

“Do you…do you want to talk about your mom?” I ask, remembering what she said not too long ago about which version of her to miss or what she should miss about her.

She shrugs and her nail digs a little deeper into my skin, but I don’t mind it.

“I feel guilty,” she starts and kicks her feet under the water.

“For not missing the version of her I had. Guilty for wishing I could’ve gotten a different version of her.

Guilty because she worked hard to make me be her, and now I can’t step foot in a place that’s named after her.

I feel guilty because I want to hate her, but I can’t.

I feel guilty because I’m mad she left everything under my name.

Now I have it all and I don’t know what to do with it.

I don’t know what to do with my life, and I feel guilty because how dare she fucking die.

” Her voice breaks and a guttural groan rips from the back of her throat.

“I know that sounds so messed up. I know I’m a shitty daughter for feeling this way.

It’s not like she planned to die.” She slouches, releasing a dejected and empty sigh.

“I’m sorry. This is why I don’t like talking. ”

“Don’t be sorry.” I pull her into a hug and she lets me. “Share your pain with me. Let yourself feel.”

“I haven’t been numb in a while. I look forward to things…”

“Yeah?” I breathe easily. “What kind of things?”

She nods. “Things like…waking up with you in the mornings. Sharing coffee with you. Talking to you. Being with you. You,” she shyly says, and I smile.

“I feel the same way. I look forward to all things consisting of you.”

She bites her lip as if she were trying to conceal her smile, but it’s so big, I see it.

“Pen told me about Monica’s offer. You should think about it. I’ll go with you if you need me to go.”

“Your sister really doesn’t know how to keep her mouth shut,” she humorously says.

“In her defense, I was asking her about you.”

She quietly laughs. “You think I should take it?”

“I think you should do what makes you happy. You already do swimming lessons, and I know you enjoy those.” But I can tell this isn’t enough for her.

She craves more; she just doesn’t want to put herself back in a place that’ll remind her of her mom.

“Do this because you want to, not because you have to fulfill something that your mom would’ve wanted. ”

She takes in my words but stays quiet. I seize up, wondering if I messed up by saying that, but she wraps her arms around my neck and breathes out like she’s relieved.

“Do you want to talk about the email you’ve been putting off?”

I don’t mean to squeeze her a little tighter, but she doesn’t complain or push me away. “Knowing he’s not here to watch me do it. Knowing he won’t get to do it.” I admit, “I don’t feel like I deserve it.”

“I get that, but you do deserve it. Don’t let your mind trick you into feeling you’re not worthy of it because I know no one deserves it more than you.”

I want to disagree, but she speaks up.

“You deserve good things, Daniel. All and every good thing, you deserve.” She breathes out a poignant sigh.

“I hate I’m sorrys wholeheartedly. Anytime I hear them, my skin itches.

It’s all I heard when Mom passed,” she whispers in my ear with a gripping pain, I feel every tremor in her voice choke my soul.

“So I shouldn’t say this because maybe you’ll hate it too, but I’m so sorry.

” She shakily breathes, voice catching in her throat.

“I’m sorry you’re hurting. I’m sorry I can’t take your pain away. If I could, I would.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and hold her. If she knew about the dark fog, it’d make her feel worse.

I need to be happy for her. I can do that. I can be happy.

“It’s okay.” I cup her jaw and tip her head back.

I hate myself as I see her red-rimmed eyes and the tears that cascade down her cheeks.

“I’ll be fine.” I smile, hoping it’s big enough, bright enough, just enough she doesn’t worry.

“I promise.” I wipe away the tears and kiss her lips.

“Don’t be sad. I’m okay. I promise. Come on, let’s keep the lesson going.

I really want you to come tomorrow.” I kiss her one last time and pull her for another hug. “I’m fine.”