Page 24 of Crossing the Line

His expression starts to change, his worry shifting back to a face that finds me repulsive. Desperately I try to talk more. I want to explain so he doesn’t think of me this way. My heart races, but the yelling is too loud again, and I can’t make it stop. I just want everything to stop. The noise climbs, getting louder until the sound of glass shattering silences everything else.

A jolt of the train wakes me, and for a moment, I’m lost. It’s funny how massive events momentarily get wiped away by sleep. My forehead glistens with sweat from my dream, and I wipe it away as I take in my surroundings. First, I’m hit with the realization that it’s now bright outside. Then, I take in the fact that I’m on a train. Followed by the feeling of someone next to me—or maybe I’m next to them. I’m the one leaning into their shoulder, after all. A tilt of my head reveals a sleeping Aiden, his face turned toward me as if he had leaned on me just as much as I had on him.

He’s peaceful like this.

Less abrasive.

Before I can study his features, memories of the night before flood my mind.

Going home.

Garret.

Shelly.

Mental breakdown.

Bar.

Aiden.

Train.

Florida.

Garret! I never texted him back last night! Dread fills the pit of my stomach like when you forget to submit an assignment on time.

Only worse.

My hands frantically pat the seat around me, scanning for my phone that hopefully hasn’t died. Aiden stirs next to me, his eyebrows furrowing before he squints an eye open.

“Seriously? You even wake up like a fucking spaz?”

I narrow my eyes at him but don’t have time to comment on his insult. Lifting his arm, I mutter, “I can’t find my phone. I had it last night, but I’m not sure where—” Wedged between us, my phone lies in all its glory. I snatch it up and let Aiden’s arm fall back against the seat with a thud.

“Jesus, Claire. Where’s the fire?” He groans as he rubs a hand over his face.

Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.

The screen lights up.

Thank you!

My relief nose-dives when I see six unread messages from Garret.

“Shit!” I hiss as my thumb frantically punches in the passcode. “Garret texted me last night, but I never answered. He’s probably freaking out.” Remembering that his last message accused me of leaving the bar with some guy sends another wave of dread over me.

Aiden nonchalantly lifts a brow. “Garret?” My cheeks flush, suddenly embarrassed. I don’t like the sound of that name coming out of Aiden’s mouth. Aiden and Florida are great distractions because neither of them has anything to do with the guy who broke my heart less than 24 hours ago. “Your ex?”

I manage to look up from my phone long enough to register his face.

He’s judging me.

Or pitying me?

It’s hard to read his somber expression, but I don’t bother wasting time trying to figure it out. Garret is probably worried after I didn’t answer him all night. Things may not have ended well between us, but we were still together for over two years. A brief haphazard nod is the best I can offer Aiden before my eyes are glued to the small screen in my hand again.

The messages pick up about an hour after his first text.