Page 68 of Please Don’t Go (The Midnight Strike #1)

DANIEL

My incessantly throbbing head wakes me. I pry my bleary eyes open and flinch a second later at the light that probes through the curtains.

I turn on my side, gently patting the bed next to me, wanting to pull Josie into me.

I force my eyes open because I don’t feel her, and this bed doesn’t smell like her. I instantly realize why when I scan the familiar room.

Tossing the covers off me, I jump out of bed but regret it a second later as everything spins. I perch on the side of the bed, holding my pounding head.

“Josie?” My voice is hoarse and my throat is dry. I have to swallow to wet it and call out again. “Josefine?”

The door opens a moment later, but she’s not the one who comes in. It’s Angel. He holds a steaming mug, a bottle of ibuprofen, and a water bottle.

“Morning,” he greets, his lips pulling into a pinched smile.

“Hey, do you know where Josie’s at?”

“Here, you’re going to need this.” He sets the mug on the nightstand and hands me the water bottle and ibuprofen. “We need to talk.”

“Where’s Josie?” I stand, setting the stuff down, and notice I’m wearing a different shirt than the one he let me borrow yesterday.

A look of apprehension crosses his face. “You’re going to need to sit down.”

“Where’s Josie? Why are you being weird?” I go to walk out, but he stands in front of the door, blocking me.

“Sit down,” he firmly instructs. “She’s not here.”

“What do you mean she’s not here?” Panic grips me. “Get out of my way.” But he doesn’t move. “Get the fuck?—”

He drags his hand over his hair, behind his head. “I’m sorry. She…she broke up with you.”

Everything inside me crashes hard. I reel back, shaking my head in disbelief. “Stop messing around. Where is she?”

I pat my pockets for my phone, but I don’t feel it.

“Danny…” His face pinches with pain and discomfort, and a strangled groan rips from the back of his throat.

“You said some things last night. A lot of things that I wasn’t even—fuck.

” He rubs his eyes hard. He looks at me with a confliction of emotions, but the one that overrides them all is devastation.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even know.

I didn’t think—I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there for you more. I’m sorry.”

My stomach roils, the alcohol threatening to rise. “What are you talking about? Why are you sorry?”

“You told Josie…” His shoulders sink as he expels a demoralizing breath and tells me in detail everything that happened last light, everything I said and what she did, as well as what she said. “She wants you to get your things from her house and said she wasn’t going to kill herself.”

I break into a cold sweat, bringing my hands behind my head, pacing, trying to remember last night, but only blurry, two second clips flash in my head. All of them, a cloudy picture of her face.

“What did I do? What did I do? What did I do?” I murmur under my breath.

“I didn’t mean to—she’s not a distraction.

She’s—” The weight of my words sink to the pit of my stomach, making it churn until I feel bile rise up.

I gag and almost trip over my feet as I run to his bathroom and double over onto the toilet.

My throat burns as the acidic liquid spills out, and my stomach constricts excruciatingly as the vomit continues to pour out of my mouth. I’m convulsing violently, gasping for air until my stomach empties.

I’m not sure how long I stay crouched over the toilet, but when I’m done, I fall on my ass, my back smacking hard against the tub.

“Here.” Angel hands me a small wet washcloth and flushes the toilet.

I wipe my mouth and drop it on the ground, burying my face in my clammy hands. My breath grows shallow, and my chest becomes tight with every inhale. I can’t breathe. Fuck, I can’t breathe.

“I can’t…” I’m gasping for air or choking on it, I don’t know, but I’m suffocating; everything’s going black. “I c-can’t breathe. Angel…I can’t?—”

“Hey, you’re okay.” He’s in front of me in an instant, hands on my shoulders, but he feels so far away.

“You’re okay, Danny. Breathe in and out,” he instructs, and I think, he sounds distant.

Why does he look blurry? I can’t breathe .

“You’re okay. I’m right here. Breathe in and out.

Danny, look at me. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re okay.”

I think I nod and faintly hear him until his voice grows louder.

“Danny, look at me,” he urges, squeezing my shoulders, and when I finally do, his trembling lips lift. “Breathe…yeah, just like that. Breathe.”

My throat, my chest—everything hurts, everything burns. I want to speak, but I can’t. Everything feels tight, swollen, like I’m on the brink of death. I’m shaking. I can’t stop shaking.

“What’s wrong with me?” I gasp sharply, my voice breaking. I’m not sure if I actually even said those words or if I thought them.

“Nothing is wrong with you. You’re just hurting.” His breath catches, but he clears it. “There’s nothing wrong with that, but you need to talk to someone.”

I shake my head. “I-I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m?—”

“You’re not. You told Josie you attempted…

many times. That’s not—” He blinks several times, pausing as he sucks in a harrowing breath.

“fine. That’s not fine. I can’t lose you.

Dammit, Daniel.” His words are a mere choked whisper as he blankets his arms around me, holding me tightly until it slaps me back to reality. “I’m here for you.”

It’s as eye-opening as it is scary as fuck because I realize he knows and she knows. What will they think of me? What have I done?

My gaze flickers aimlessly as my mind sinks into the dark void I was trying so hard to stay out of.

I want to talk, to move, to hug him because he needs it, but I can’t do anything but sink further into a lifeless pit.

Dropping my head on his shoulder, I close my eyes and feel nothing.

It hurts and that’ll probably never go away, but you can share your pain with me.

Josie.

“I need to talk to Josie. I need to make things right. I need her.” I sit back, forcing myself to snap out of it.

He tugs back, staring at me emphatically. “You need to rest. Maybe you can see her later and?—”

“No, fuck that. I need to see her now. I need to make things right. I need her to know that I didn’t mean what I said because I didn’t. I swear I didn’t.”

“I know you didn’t. I know you really care about her.”

“I need to see her.” I push up on my feet and he follows suit.

“Why don’t you drink the water, swallow an ibuprofen, take a shower, and then I’ll bring you to her, okay?”

“You don’t need to come. I’m going to talk to her. I’m going to make things right. I don’t want to lose her.”

Something flashes on his face that makes me think he doesn’t believe it’ll happen. But then he nods. “I’m coming with. You shouldn’t be driving after last night and right now.”

Reluctantly, I agree. “How did she get home last night?” I hate myself.

“Noah took her. He made sure she got home safe. I promise.”

I really hate myself.

I find her outside, sitting on the grass with a towel wrapped around her body, staring straight ahead. She doesn’t turn or make a sound when I approach her.

“Josie, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She rises, turning around before I get to stand in front of her, and takes a few steps back, adding distance between us.

“Josie.” I stretch my hands out, but she takes another step back. “Josie, please. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean what I said. I shouldn’t—I wish I could take it all back. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Please,” I plead desperately, with every inch of me.

Her eyes level with mine and my heart squeezes. I try to reach out for her again, but she steps back.

“Josie, baby. Please, please, please,” I beg and drop to my knees, staring up at her desperately. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Her bottom lip quivers and she bites it. Shaking her head, she stands in front of me and sinks to her knees. She circles her arms around my neck, and presses me to her wet body.

I bury my face in the crook of her neck and pull her as close to me as I possibly can. My world steadies and I breathe easier.

“I’m sorry,” she delivers in an agonizing tone.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said last night. I shouldn’t have?—”

“Daniel,” she achingly whimpers and pulls back just enough to cup my cheeks and tilt my head back so I can look at her. There’s a sorrowful look on her face, like she’s the one who’s sorry, who’s struggling with words. “You deserve good things. You deserve to be happy.”

My brows pinch in. “I am happy. You make me happy.”

“No, no, I don’t. You are not happy with me.

You’ve made yourself miserable. You’ve put your needs, your feelings, yourself last for the sake of making me happy.

I think you lied to yourself enough that you believed it, but you’re not.

I can’t make you happy. I can’t give you the emotional stability you need.

I wanted to…” She gets choked up on a sob.

“So badly give it to you, but I can’t. I don’t know how. ”

I vigorously shake my head, tightening my hold on her. “You can. You have. I am happy with you. I want you. I need you, Josie. Believe me. Please.”

She sadly smiles at me. “You deserve good things.”

“ Please don’t give up on us.”

“I missed the signs.” She laughs with remorse. “I should’ve seen them because I’ve been there, but I overlooked them. I didn’t do enough. I’m sorry you had to hide yourself. I’m sorry you?—”

“It’s not your fault. I’m fine.”

“Stop saying that!” She drops her hands and jerks away from me. “You are not fine. I’m not enough for you.”

“You are! You are enough for me! So enough, I can’t stop drowning in you. I crave you. I want you. I need you. I lo?—”

She wraps her arms around. “Don’t. Don’t say that. You’ll regret it.”

I kiss her temple over and over. “I’m not. I do, Josie. You need to believe me. I?—”

“You need to put yourself first. I need you to love yourself first. I need you to take care of yourself first. You can’t be with me and not do that. You just can’t.”

“I can do both. I can, I will, I promise.”

“I know you will but not with me. I need you to let me go.”

“No, Josefine, I can’t.” My heart accelerates, and my brain fights to figure out what to do, what to say, but she withdraws from me.

“You can and you will.” She smiles at me and those fireworks still fucking blast. “Please take care of yourself.” She kisses my forehead and stands, but I anxiously grab her wrist, drawing her back to me.

“Don’t do this to me. I need you. Please don’t go.” I grind my teeth, wishing the tears would stop, but they won’t, and hers don’t either.

“You deserve good things.” She wipes my tears away. “You deserve to be happy. I’m sorry I couldn’t show you how, but you’ll find it. I know you will.”

She looks away as she slips her hand from mine and walks away from me, not once turning back while all I do is stare at her.