The Space Between

Chapter 11: Revealed

The diner buzzed with a mix of tired truckers and wide-eyed tourists, the kind of place where the hum of conversation never seemed to die down, even this late at night. A faint smell of stale smoke clung to the vinyl booths and greasy countertops, making Melanie's stomach churn. The thought of eating anything here made her uneasy, but she followed Nicholas as they slid into a booth tucked away at the far end of the restaurant.

Nicholas tapped his knuckles rhythmically on the chipped Formica table, the sound steady and almost hypnotic. Melanie sat across from him, folding her hands in her lap to keep them from fidgeting. She felt restless, her thoughts swirling, growing heavier with every passing second. What could he possibly need to tell her?

A waitress shuffled over, her voice tinged with a Southern twang. She had bleach-blonde hair that was teased high, and her eyeliner was thick and slightly smudged from a long shift.

"Coffee?" she asked, pulling a pen from behind her ear.

"Yes, two please," Nicholas answered without hesitation. "And I'll take a side of toast with jam."

The waitress turned to Melanie with a warm but tired smile. "And for you, hun?"

Melanie hesitated. "Just coffee for now, thanks." She knew she hadn't eaten in hours, but her stomach was too knotted with anxiety to think about food.

Nicholas shot her a sideways glance before turning back to the waitress. "She'll have an omelet and some toast too," he said firmly.

The waitress arched a brow, her gaze flicking between the two of them, sensing some unspoken tension. "Alrighty," she finally said, jotting down the order. "I'll get that food right out for y'all."

Nicholas gave her a polite nod. "Thanks."

When the waitress walked away, silence settled between them again, thick and uncomfortable. Melanie wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic mug when the coffee arrived, though she didn't take a sip. Across from her, Nicholas took a long drink, his gaze fixed on the swirling steam. She watched him carefully, feeling her impatience simmer just beneath the surface.

Her foot tapped nervously against the floor. What is it, Nicholas? she wanted to ask, but before she could get the words out, he set his cup down with a soft clink and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

"The reason I asked you to come here..." His voice was low, heavy with something unspoken. His fingers resumed their rhythmic drumming against the table, faster this time. "The reason I need to talk to you is—" He paused, lowering his gaze for a moment before forcing himself to meet hers. "I know how Dominic can be. And I know... I know he's probably hurt you in ways that go beyond just words."

Melanie felt the air leave her lungs. It was as if the ground beneath her shifted, leaving her unsteady and off-balance. Her mouth opened slightly, but no words came. How could he know that? How could anyone know? Dominic wasn't the kind of man to admit to things like that—he'd rather let the world think everything was fine.

"Dominic didn't tell me anything," Nicholas added quickly, as if reading her mind. His voice softened, tinged with a quiet sadness. "I know because..." He paused again, his knuckles tapping once more against the table in that same relentless rhythm. Then, as if the effort of holding the truth in was too much, he exhaled and said, "I've been there before."

Melanie's heart thudded in her chest. She stared at him, trying to make sense of the weight behind his words.

"What do you mean?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Nicholas looked away for a moment, his jaw tight. "I know what it feels like to be trapped. To feel like... no matter what you do, you can't win. That the person you love is tearing you down, piece by piece, until there's nothing left." He rubbed the back of his neck, his expression dark with memories that seemed too close for comfort. "It's not always easy to admit when someone you care about hurts you. But I know the signs, Melanie. And I can see them in you."