That’s not who we are anymore. We’ll never be that again. Not even if Owen was still here. I made sure of that.
Sawyer hating me is nothing new and I should just fucking live with that like I’ve tried to for years.
Except it’s different now.
Before, when she hated me, it was because I chose to make her hate me. I was cruel on purpose. I blamed her for everything because it was easier than taking a look at my own fucking family and their part in it all.
The Thornes fell from grace and all I did was turn her hurt into a weapon.
But this time, when I made her hate me, it wasn’t to punish her.
It was to save us both from the truth. I’m a monster who is glad my brother is dead, and she deserves better than that.
She’s always deserved better than me.
Chapter 12
Sawyer
Mom finally left, thank God. I had to practically force her to go by telling her I needed rest and space to process everything. She protested—of course she did—but my nurse touched her arm, making her flinch like she’d been shot, and she finally relented.
If I’m honest, she looked relieved to escape. Seeing the Aldrichs again was probably a lot for her.
And now I’m alone with nothing but the beeping machines, and this disgusting tray of food, and my circling thoughts.
Knox thinks I’m nothing. Worse than nothing.
It didn’t mean anything.
I press the heels of my hands against my eyes until I see stars. The pressure helps to keep the tears from falling. How I have any moisture left in my body is beyond me anyway. But I can’t do it anymore. I’m so close to falling apart in this fucking room with these yellow walls and this fluorescent lighting and the sterile smell clinging to me from this hospital gown.
But he looked right at me like I was a stranger and I can’t let that go. How those moments on Velocity—when his hand was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality, when his voice was the only thing keeping me sane—were in my head.
I would have held anyone’s hand in that situation.
I shouldn’t be surprised he’s treating me this way. This is exactly what Knox does, yet I keep falling for it like a fucking fool. He finds something real and vulnerable and then he destroys it before it can destroy him first.
My chest aches and it’s not from the bruised ribs or the cuts or the general battering my body took in the accident. This ache is different. It’s an ache no amount of medicine will fix. The kind that spreads through your chest cavity and takes root in your bones.
Owen is dead.
The thought hits me again, stealing my breath. When mom was here, chit chatting, and nurses were in and out, and the police came to take my statement, I almost forgot. But it’s real and Owen is dead and I’m lying here obsessing over his brother.
Owen, who loved me so fucking much. Owen, who never made me feel small or broken or like something to be ashamed of.
Owen, who I should have loved better.
The guilt is a corporeal being, sitting on my chest, squeezing my throat until it chokes the life out of me.
I wish I had my phone for distraction, but instead I flip through every channel the hospital TV provides just to give my hands something to do. It doesn’t help. I fear nothing will.
Just go.
If Owen were here, he’d wrap me in his arms and tell me it’ll be okay. I inhale, pretending I can still smell him…wishing to hear his voice.
He can’t make it better this time. He can’t call Knox a dick for hurting my feelings and distract me with a funny story.
I cry for what feels like hours with only the beeping and some Food Network show for background noise. I cry until my vision clouds and my pillow is soaked and snot clogs my nostrils.
