Where Silence Gathers (Some Quiet Place #2)(87)

“Yes, you do.” He says it against my temple. His lips are how I imagine clouds would feel.

As always, Forgiveness is right. Ever since the night in the mines, when I put the gun down, the choice has been obvious. I close my eyes, relaxing against him. And then—for the first time since I can remember—I go completely, utterly, incandescently still.

Nate Foster’s face fills me up. His sad, drooping eyes. I see their faces in my sleep. Every night. I can never escape it … and I don’t deserve to. He made a choice to get in his car drunk one night, and he changed the course of my life forever. But some of the fault could belong to my father. Some of it could belong to me. It doesn’t matter anymore.

“I forgive you,” I breathe.

But it’s not finished yet, not yet. One more person lingers in my head, and I can smell chocolate. A tear falls down my cheek and off the edge of my jaw. “Revenge.” The name slips out, soft. The breeze carries it away. Forgiveness still hears. He follows the direction of my gaze, out the window. Standing in the middle of the street, looking back up at us, Revenge lifts one hand in a solemn wave.

Then he’s gone.

It’s the easiest and hardest thing I’ve ever done. To let go. To not need him anymore. It’s difficult to imagine a world without Revenge in it, without that fierce ache for reckoning that has existed inside of me since the accident. He may have been the cause of it, but he never would have been able to haunt me if I hadn’t wanted him there.

Now the only one left is Forgiveness. I focus on his face again, and he’s so, so careful. His hands cup my face as if I’m something precious and breakable. He gives me time to turn away or stop him, but I don’t. His lips brush mine. He tastes fresh and overwhelming as his essence continues to sweep through me, a sensation akin to falling. All too soon he’s pulling back, putting distance between us, and I hit the ground. I open my eyes.

Forgiveness doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t even breathe. This time, he’s the one who’s turned to stone. He almost looks … lost. Trembling, I rise and step closer. And I put my hand on his chest.

He makes the smallest of sounds, almost a sigh. He’s been waiting for this, too. Wanting it, too. I come alive when I hear it, and there’s no more hesitation.

I rise on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck. His palms skim up my sides, leaving a trail of goose bumps. He tries to be gentle with me at first, like before, but my desire for him is too fierce. I open my mouth and the kiss deepens. We stumble into the wall again. Our ragged gasps are deafening and frantic. Forgiveness is everywhere, everything. For a few minutes I’m only aware of him. His hands, his heat, his skin against mine. Then we’re slowing down, and he’s pulling back. I let him. Our eyes meet again, and I absorb his expression, fighting the urge to pretend that this can have a happy ending. That nothing will change.

“I’m not going to see you again, am I?” But it doesn’t sound like a question. He doesn’t answer. Really, he doesn’t need to. We could say all the things we’re supposed to say in a moment like this. Goodbye, love, live. So I just smile and say, “Thanks, Forgiveness.”

He brushes a strand of hair away with the tip of his finger. “Actually, it’s Atticus.”

Unable to resist, I lean into him again. Our foreheads press together. It’s the most beautiful-hideous thing, choice. It doesn’t define us … it reveals us. Who we are, who we’ve been, who we’ll become. All we can do is try to make the right ones.

Suddenly the warmth against my skin is gone. The room is empty save for the clock. Blinking rapidly, I approach it and put the hands back to where they’re supposed to be. Dong. Dong. Dong. Outside, the sun is a sliver on the horizon. This is the only place on the entire mountain that anyone can watch it disappear. I shuffle to the window and pull myself up on the sill. Eleven minutes pass, and eventually the sun leaves our half of the world to go light the next. The sky darkens into a blend of black and purple. It feels permanent, in a way, and impossible that it could be bright again. Morning will come, though, as it always does.

We just have to wait for it.



Almost the entire town turns out for the graduation ceremony. Which isn’t considerable, granted, but there are enough people that half the folding chairs in the gym are full. Missy, Saul, and I manage to snag spots one row behind the students.

I lean my chin on the back of my hand, which rests on the edge of the metal chair in front of me. Georgie talks out of the corner of her mouth. “I can’t believe you dropped out when we were so close to graduating,” she hisses. The tassel dangling off her cap sways.

Regret pushes his shoulder against mine. I ignore him. “Just add it to the long list of mistakes I’ll make throughout my life.”

She scowls. “Well, are you going to fix it?” Yelena Prichard glares at us and Georgie’s arm moves. I suspect she’s giving her the finger.

We watch Briana walk across the platform. She takes the diploma from Principal Bracken. “I’m going to try,” I say. Georgie’s turn comes shortly after. Then Yelena’s. Then Rachel Porter’s. There are some that dropped out, like me, who sit in the small crowd. It happens so fast. Soon they all have their diplomas and we’re all standing, cheering while they file out the door and toward their futures. The moment the last kid is gone everyone moves, off to make their celebratory dinners or go back to business as usual. I stand there for a second, people parting around me like I’m a stone in a river. Part of something and forever separate.