Page 104 of The Quiet After The Fall

I stare at the text. She always senses things. It’s a gift. I type back a vague answer—all good!—and immediately feel like shit for lying, especially considering how much she’s already done for me without question.

The silence afterward stretches so long I start pacing the same six feet of hardwood floor over and over, phone clutched tight enough to make my knuckles ache.

I can’t stop thinking about him showing up at my doorstep, bruised and beaten, barely able to stand. This was done by the same man he’s with now. Maybe it wasn’t Moretti’s own hands that delivered the blow, but he was the one who orchestrated it.

When I close my eyes to calm my racing heart, he’s there behind my lids. Knox, bloody and broken…not just the other night but from the accident too. Then it cuts to Owen falling…the screams, the terror. I’m next.

I open my eyes, forcing the images back down where they belong, breathing through the tightness in my chest until my heartbeat slows enough to think straight again.

He’s fine. I’d know if he wasn’t.

I don’t fully believe myself but repeating it helps.

It’s been an hour and a half now and still nothing. I force myself to sit back down at the table and read over more documents. It’s not helping—words blur together and worst-case scenarios push their way to the front of my mind.

I hate that I go there first. Knox never leaving Moretti’s house again. Or worse, Knox coming back to me, but Moretti deciding he’s seen or heard too much and killing him later, when we least expect it.

I should be thinking about the future. Knox and me somewhere far away from Ashford, doing something ordinary like grocery shopping or watching a movie. A house that’s just ours, somewhere near a lake. Lazy mornings in bed, holding each other, and never having to look behind our backs or feel bad for our love.

I want that so badly, I ache.

My phone rings, pulling me out of my fantasy, and I answer before the first ring even finishes.

“Knox?”

“Hey.” He sounds tired, his voice rough around the edges, but he’s alive and whole. “I’m okay.”

Relief hits me so hard that I have to hold onto the table before I tip out of the chair.

“Thank God. Tell me everything.”

“I got him to agree that my father’s a liability. He said he’ll cut him loose. Escalate is the word he used.”

Escalate? Does that mean? I don’t let myself ask the question.

“Is that what you wanted?”

He sighs and is quiet for a moment. “I don’t know now. I thought waiting on the attorneys and cops would take too long. I wanted to break Moretti’s ties to my father. I hoped if he knew my father was about to be in deep shit, he’d want to get far away from our family.”

“And the wedding?” I hold my breath, dreading the answer.

“Moretti still wants it, for Ella, apparently. He wasn’t budging, but I think he’s focusing more on the trouble my father can bring into his life now, so I don’t know. We’re running out of time, Sawyer. I⁠—”

“It’s okay.” I rub circles on my temple. “Come back and we’ll figure out the rest together.”

“On my way, just needed to hear your voice first.”

“I’m here,” I whisper. “Come back to me.”

I wait outside in my nightshirt, swatting away mosquitos as I stare into the dark tree line. As soon as I see movement from the branches, I’m up and meeting him at the break in the fence, relief flooded through my veins.

“Hey.” He wraps his arms around me, and I bury my head in his chest, breathing him in. His smell comforts me more than he could know.

“I was so worried.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I don’t blame you.”

His lips find mine, and the scrape of his stubble, the heat of his mouth, it grounds me in a way I desperately needed. I kiss him back, curling my fingers into his shirt to pull him closer. A groan rumbles in his chest and his hand slides around my waist, drawing me in until there’s no space between us. My breath catches, every nerve ending on fire where his fingers rest on my skin. I want more, and the raw need of it catches me off guard.