Stay Until Morning

By the time we reached my building, I was cold enough that my teeth hurt.

Julian carried my bag upstairs. I kept one hand on the railing and told myself the trembling in my legs came from sitting too long.

At the apartment door, I fumbled the key twice.

He waited until I held it out.

“Could you?”

He unlocked the door, switched on the lights, and stood aside while I went in.

Everything was exactly as I had left it. My breakfast mug sat in the sink. A laundry basket waited beside the bedroom door. The blue couch still hadn’t arrived, which seemed like a personal insult now that I actually needed to sit down.

I stopped in the middle of the living room.

Julian put my bag on the counter.

“What would help?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then we can start with something small. Water, tea, food?”

I looked toward the kitchen.

“Tea. And don’t make it sound like a medical procedure.”

He gave me a faint smile.

“I was planning to use the kettle.”

That was ordinary enough to steady me a little.

I took off my coat and sat at the kitchen table.

***

Miles arrived before the tea was ready.

He knocked three times, called my name through the door, and almost walked into Julian when it opened.

Then he saw me.

“Oh, Evan.”

“I’m here.”

“I can see that.”

He came over and hugged me carefully. I had intended to make a joke about his dramatic entrance, but his hand settled against the back of my head, and I found myself holding on.

He smelled like cold air and the coffee shop near his work.

When he stepped back, his eyes went to the bruise on my elbow.

“I’m going to say something unhelpful.”

“Then perhaps don’t.”

“I really want to punch somebody.”

“Apparently, the police have already taken away that opportunity.”

He pulled out the chair beside me and sat.

Julian brought tea, then heated the soup Miles had brought. Neither asked me to describe everything immediately. We talked about the hospital check, the statement I would need to give again, and which deadlines I could move.

When Miles asked whether I wanted him to stay, I glanced toward Julian before answering.

“I asked him to.”

Miles followed my gaze.

Something shifted in his expression, but he spared me the smile I knew was available.

“All right. I’ll come by tomorrow.”

He made me promise to answer his calls, put extra food in my refrigerator, and left after another hug.

At the door, he looked at Julian.

“Call if you need anything.”

Julian nodded. “I will.”

For once, neither of them included me in the arrangements as though I were a problem to be managed. They simply made sure I knew they were there.

***

I ate half the soup.

Julian sat across from me, drinking tea that had gone cold. Every time I looked up, he was watching my face.

Eventually, I put down my spoon.

“If you keep checking whether I’m still here, dinner’s going to take all night.”

His gaze lowered to the table.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m still here,” I said more gently.

“I know.”

“No, I think you need to hear it.”

He looked at me again.

I reached across the table and touched his wrist.

He had frightened me after the accident. I hadn’t forgotten that. But tonight, I had seen fear strip the composure from his face, and I understood that he was struggling to put himself back together, too.

“You got me out,” I said.

“Your message gave us the address. The driver called when you didn’t answer. You did the things we agreed on.”

“I also walked into the building.”

“You went to a meeting that looked legitimate. Grant arranged it.”

I studied his hand beneath mine.

For once, he was refusing to let me take responsibility for someone else’s choices.

I needed that more than I wanted to admit.

***

Later, I showered.

I left the bathroom door unlocked and felt foolish about it until I heard Julian moving a chair in the kitchen. The small sound helped.

When I came out, he had cleared the table and put a bottle of water beside my bed.

I stopped in the bedroom doorway.

He saw where I was looking and stepped back.

“I thought you might need it. I can leave it in the kitchen.”

I remembered another morning, another glass of water, and the confusion that had followed.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then I took the bottle and placed it on the nightstand myself.

“This one’s fine.”

Julian nodded.

He didn’t ask me to make the answer mean more than it did.

I sat on the edge of the bed and watched him arrange a blanket on the floor in the hallway.

“What are you doing?”

“Staying close enough that you can call me.”

“That looks uncomfortable.”

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

“I’m not running a competition.”

He straightened, waiting.

I looked at the empty side of my bed.

The invitation felt different from wanting him in the apartment. More complicated, but still mine to make.

“You can sleep here,” I said. “I want company. That’s all I’m asking for tonight.”

His expression softened.

“Then that’s all it will be.”

***

He lay on top of the spare blanket at first, leaving a careful space between us.

I turned off the overhead light and left the bedside lamp on.

For several minutes, I listened to traffic and tried to convince my body that there was nothing happening outside the bedroom door.

When I closed my eyes, the back room returned.

The table. Grant’s phone. The man blocking the doorway.

I opened them again.

Julian hadn’t moved.

“Are you awake?”

“I am.”

“I thought you might be.”

He turned his head toward me.

I found his hand between us and held it.

That helped more than I expected.

After a while, I shifted closer until my forehead rested against his shoulder. His arm remained where it was until I pulled it around me.

“Like that,” I murmured.

He settled his hand lightly against my back.

I could hear his breathing, steady beneath my cheek. I had spent the first nights after the death report frightened by the weight of someone beside me. Now I knew who was there, and I had asked him to stay.

It didn’t erase those nights.

It gave me something different to remember.

***

I woke before dawn.

The lamp was still on. Julian slept beside me with one hand loosely held in mine.

For a minute, I watched him.

I had wanted him when I was scared.

I wanted him now, with the room quiet and nobody threatening either of us.

That mattered.

The realization didn’t arrive with a label or a speech. It arrived with the desire to move closer and spend another hour exactly where I was.

Julian stirred when I brushed my thumb over his knuckles.

“Did you sleep?”

“Some.”

“Do you need anything?”

I looked at his mouth.

Then I kissed him.

It was brief, a little awkward because we were both still half-asleep, but he smiled when I drew back.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” he said.

“It’s what I needed.”

He looked at me properly then, the sleep leaving his expression.

I rested my head against his shoulder again.

“I still want Friday.”

“The date?”

“Don’t make me repeat it.”

His arm settled around me.

“I’ll be there.”

***

The next afternoon, Martin called with a short update.

Grant was in custody, along with the people who had helped hold me. The false client request had been documented, and the police had taken possession of the phones and computers involved.

I would need to answer more questions later.

I expected that.

Julian’s attorney was arranging a public correction of the death report now that remaining hidden no longer served the same purpose.

I asked whether Julian was safe.

Martin told me there were precautions in place and that I could ask for practical details if I wanted them.

I didn’t want an hour of company history.

I wanted to know we could go to dinner.

When Julian came back from collecting groceries, I was still holding the phone.

“Everything okay?”

I put it down and took one of the bags from him.

“Apparently, you’re coming back to life officially.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Try not to get a second newspaper headline this month.”

He smiled, then saw my expression and stepped closer.

I caught the front of his sweater.

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

I kissed him before he could offer another promise.

This time, when I let go, I wasn’t shaking.