Page 65 of The Moment I Knew

Tears blurred my vision. I shook my head, stepping back. “You don’t want them back together because you don’t want to see him. That doesn’t mean Mum wouldn’t.”

“That doesn’t mean she should,” Lavender said quietly. “And it definitely doesn’t mean you get to decide that for her.”

“I wasn’t deciding,” I said, my voice cracking completely now. “I was just… hoping.”

Lavender sighed, long and tired. “Hope can still hurt people.”

“Well maybe I don’t care,” I said, the words spilling out hot and ugly. “Maybe I just want my family back, even if it isn’t perfect for you.”

Lavender’s eyes widened. “Imogen⁠—”

“I need to go,” I said abruptly, turning away before she could finish.

I bolted for the stairs, my feet pounding against the steps as tears finally spilled over. I heard Lavender call my name once, sharp with concern, but I didn’t stop.

I shoved my bedroom door open and slammed it shut behind me, the sound echoing in the too-quiet house. I crossed the room in a few unsteady steps and threw myself onto the bed, burying my face into the pillow as sobs tore out of me, raw and helpless. My shoulders shook, breath coming in broken gasps.

Dad was coming back into a house that was already moving on.

twenty-one

A sharp tap against the glass broke through the quiet. I frowned, lifting my head, wiping the last of my tears from the fight with Lavender. The sound came again—tap, tap—followed by the faint skitter of something sliding down the window. My stomach tightened as I glanced toward the balcony doors. The curtains were half drawn, the darkness beyond them thick and unreadable.

Another sound followed, this one unmistakable. A small click as something struck the glass, then a dull bounce against the railing outside.

Pebbles.

I stood slowly, every instinct on high alert as I crossed the room. No one ever came onto the balcony this late—especially not like this. I pulled the curtain back just enough to peer through the glass, my breath catching as a shadow shifted on the other side.

At first, all I could make out was a vague shape, a figure standing just beyond the light spilling from my room. Then he leaned forward, and the glow caught on sharp features and a familiar, infuriatingly calm expression.

My heart stuttered.

I jumped up and opened the glass doors, openly gawking as Cole stood on the other side.

Cole Mercer was standing on my balcony.

And looking way too casual about it.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. I hoped he didn’t notice the way my voice went up about five octaves over the course of the sentence.

He pulled his hand from his jacket pocket and lifted up the Apple Pencil we had fought over just yesterday afternoon. “You forgot this at The Corner Cup.”

“I did?” I stepped forward and snatched it out of his hand, inspecting it like my name might appear to prove I had actually left it behind.

“Well, I may have made sure you forgot it⁠—”

“So you stole it,” I interrupted.

“As an excuse to come here and give it back to you.” He rocked back on his heels, a smirk pulling at his lips. I found a smile on my own lips as I stared at him. Then I shook my head, looking behind him at our front yard, the quiet street, the streetlights dotting the sidewalk.

“How did you get up here?” I asked, dragging my gaze back to him.

“I climbed,” he said, as if that was obvious. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the tree in the yard. One of the branches just about reached the balcony, but I wouldn’t exactly consider it a safe way to get up. Especially not when he could have just used the front door.

I reached out a hand and shoved his shoulder, but he barely even budged. “You could have broken your neck!” I snapped. He shrugged as if that didn’t matter in the slightest. I shook my head and stepped out onto the balcony with him, crossing my arms as I felt the chill in the air.

He shrugged, slow and careless. “Wouldn’t be the dumbest way I’ve almost died.”