Within These Walls

Life After Dark: 22 (WTW Sequel)

There are hordes of people at Klyde Warren Park, drawn by live classical music and tons of street vendors selling everything from hipster t-shirts to hot dogs. A lady pushing a stroller cuts in front of us under an archway and hurries off with her bald husband trailing after her. They aren't the only ones rushing past us. Everyone is moving with purpose and excitement, and I feel completely overwhelmed by the thought that there's an enemy amidst us who is planning to turn this joyous day to one of tragedy and loss.

We meander through the crowds, scanning our surroundings for anything out of place. Marcus is so close behind me that I feel his body warmth, and his hand makes an appearance on my shoulder occasionally, when the writhing mass of bodies grows too thick and we're swallowed by the noise and jostling. His closeness is reassuring, even though I think this protectiveness of his is more out of habit than deliberate concern.

What am I supposed to be looking for, Hermes? I ask silently as my eyes scan the lawns. I spot Pablo happily scarfing down hot dogs near a street cart and Janie basking in attention from three guys dressed in jerseys, while Willow fiddles with her phone, hunching her shoulders and acting secretive and suspicious of anyone who gets within two feet of her.

Anxiety rises in my gullet like heartburn.

"You're doing it again," Marcus says.

I raise my eyes to meet his, which are squinting against the warming midday sun. In this light, they have brown flecks that make them even more captivating.

"Doing what?" I ask.

"Second-guessing yourself."

I almost smile self-deprecatingly. It's always been a source of discussion between us. My wishy-washiness. The fact that I can't formulate a plan and carry it out like some unshakable military general. Or like Marcus. I've seen him bulldoze through situations when everyone else thought he was wrong. And sometimes he was, but you'd never know it with the way he'd act. That kind of confidence and resolve—I envy it. I want it. Sam spent so many years shaking the ground beneath my feet that I don't think I'll ever gain firm footing.

"I prefer to think of it as being thorough," I answer.

"You still think too damn much." He lifts his eyes for a moment to take in the scene around us. "It's a nice day and we're standing in the middle of a park with all kinds of things to do. The music could use some improvement, but how about enjoying yourself instead of worrying about why we're here? We had some good times when you did that, if I recall."

He says the last part softly, but the words are heavy with meaning. With everything that's happened between us, his gaze feels like a soft caress across my skin. Intimate and knowing, and my body warms with the memory of his touch. How did I spend the last few days completely oblivious to this potent atmosphere between us?

"When did you fall for Saige?" I ask.

Marcus's eyebrows shoot up at the abrupt change in subject. "What?"

"She said you two are in love." My stomach is hollow, and it takes a lot for me to continue. "I guess it happened while I was too busy chasing after . . . well, whatever."

He stares at me without answering for a long and painful moment. "You think I fell for her?"

"It's not crazy to think you could love someone after a month together, right?" I swallow and lower my voice. "You told me you loved me two weeks after we left the facility."

It took me almost three more weeks after that, but like with everything else, I did a lot of overthinking about it. I've never loved anyone, romantically or otherwise, and I wanted to be sure it wasn't just because Marcus was the first guy I'd ever dated—so to speak.