Page 57 of Ex Somnis

I’m not proud of it, but I drift closer, nearly brushing the back of Ridge’s chair as both of us stare down at the screen.

Yeah, it’s private.

But if Lennon were awake right now, she probably would’ve shoved the phone directly into my hands while ranting about her stupid ex and rambling about the death of romance.

The other two, though.

I don’t know if she would want them to read it.

Maybe I should stop this. Protect her privacy while she can’t do it herself.

But then again, Lennon apparently built entire relationships with them, and maybe I’m not actually the person with the strongest claim to deciding who gets access to which parts of her life.

There are a lot of messages from Spencer. Days of them, but no replies from Lennon at all. Not even when she was still awake.

I can’t fucking read them as fast as Ridge is scrolling through them.

“At least read out loud so we can all hear it.” Paul sighs from where he’s still standing, arms crossed now, and I don’t know if he asked that for his or my sake, but I don’t care right now. I’m glad he did.

Ridge makes a sound, then mutters, “All right, all right. At least she never answered him. Good girl.”

“The messages, Ridge,” Paul presses.

“I’m getting there.” He clears his throat with entirely unnecessary theatricality. “He wrote, I mean it, Lenny. I’ll drive all the way to Oregon if that’s what it takes.”

He scrolls.

“Not answering me is childish, and you know it,” Ridge scoffs. “That guy is calling Lennon childish? I bet he’s the guy in her nightmares. You should have seen the dream projection. He is a fucking child in a suit, probably not even able to grow a beard.”

Disgust crawls slowly up the back of my neck, but Paul just says, “Keep going.”

“You’re acting like you’re the only person who struggled these last few months. I had to settle into a new position. It was stressful. I was working insane hours. Yes, I didn’t call as much, but neither did you. We both had priorities.”

“Priorities?” Paul glances at me.

“Her mom died. Very recently.”

“Fuck.” For the first time, Ridge looks honestly bothered by something.

I glance back at Paul, who lets his thumb glide over his mouth.

“We’re adults, Cherub. We should be able to talk through things instead of running away. God, I hate him for calling her that stupid pet name.”

Yeah, agreed.

Ridge scrolls again, and his voice stays flat. “Those are from today. I was going to get you, but my car started making a weird noise halfway through packing. The mechanic says tomorrow at the earliest, and by then, I’d barely have any time left before work starts again. The last few weeks have been a complete disaster. Everything keeps going wrong since you left. First, my sink backed up, then my phone died and wiped half my contacts, then I got food poisoning bad enough to miss work, and now this.”

Of course.

“You can come home, and we’ll figure this out properly. You can still move in with me as we planned. I’m willing to let this go, Lenny. I miss you.”

Ridge makes a quiet, deeply concerning sound, while Paul still hasn’t really moved.

“You can’t punish me forever over one mistake. I never meant for you to hear that voicemail. If you hadn’t heard it, we would still be together right now.”

He reads the next line to himself first. I watch something move across his face, but he is quick to pull it back before he reads it aloud. “What are you even doing in Oregon? You don’t have anyone there. Come home.”

Ridge slowly lifts his head from the phone, eyes dark enough to make me think maybe his being in a wheelchair doesn’t actually lower his chances of murder all that much.