My eyes land on Owen’s toothbrush laying against the sink. Just the other day, I joked with him about how he needs to get an electric one, laughed at him for still using the freebie he gets at his six month dental cleanings.
The sob hits me so suddenly I don’t have time to stop it. I grab the edge of the sink as my knees threaten to buckle, and everything I’ve been holding back crashes over me in waves.
He was going to propose. Knox said he had a ring. Owen was going to ask me to marry him and I was on that ride with his brother instead. I declined his call. I held Knox’s hand while Owen died alone and terrified two rows behind us.
The sobs tear through me, excruciating, like someone’s twisting a knife into my chest. I press my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound but it’s no use.
“Sawyer?” Mom’s voice comes through the door. “Baby, I’m coming in.”
“I’m fine,” I choke out, even though we both know it’s a lie.
“You’re not fine. Open the door.”
I don’t want her to see me like this. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. I need to get it together. But I can’t seem to stop crying and my legs are giving out and I’m sliding down to sit on the cold tile floor with Owen’s toothbrush clutched in my fist.
I crawl to the tub and turn the faucets. The sound of running water drowns out Mom’s knocking.
“Please,” I whisper. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.”
My head falls back against the chipped wooden cabinet. It hurts but not as bad as the all consuming pain climbing through my limbs, seizing my breath. I’m in a well and there’s no coming up for air.
Somehow I end up stripping off my clothes and climbing into the tub. I soak until my fingers prune and the water turns cold enough to make me shiver. With hands that seem detached from the rest of me, I wash my hair, slumping under the water to rinse away the grime.
When I finally drag myself out and wrap a towel around my body, I notice Mom slipped clean clothes through the door at some point. I didn’t even hear her.
There in a pile is some clean leggings, a soft T-shirt, and one of Owen’s hoodies.
Does she know that it’s his?
I hold it up to my nose, inhaling the fresh smell of his laundry detergent mixed with a hint of cologne. Moisture lines my eyes again, but I’m so cried out, so completely done, that I blink it away.
I hold it against my chest and bring it out onto the bed. Mom must have made it while I was in the bathroom.
I get dressed, run a brush through my damp hair, and toss it up in a ponytail. When I come out, I find Mom wiping down the already clean kitchen counters.
“Feel better?” she asks, barely looking up as she wrings out the sponge.
“A little.”
She sets it next to the sink to dry and turns toward me. “The pancakes are in the fridge if you change your mind. Or I could make you some toast. Eggs?”
“Mom, I’m really not?—”
“I know.” She finally looks at me with red-rimmed eyes. “I know, baby. I just...I don’t know what else to do.”
Neither do I.
“Don’t you need to get back to work soon?” I ask. My Mom’s boss at the bank is notoriously dickish when it comes to unplanned time off. He gave her hell last year when she took a week off from the flu.
“Clark will understand. I’ll call him later and give him a little update.”
I lean against the counter, eyeing the pot of coffee, but knowing my stomach will hate me for it. “Did any of the other tellers offer to cover for you?”
“Oh, they all did. You know how much they love you.”
It’s true. Mom’s coworkers have been like an extended family since she got her job there a few years ago. Even with the scandal still on everyone in town’s radar, they looked the other way, treated us like family, took care of us.
She goes to the fridge and grabs a cold bottle of water, cracking the top before handing it to me. “At least drink some water.”
