Page 52 of The Quiet After The Fall

She’s not pulling away. Why the fuck isn’t she pulling away?

Her chin tips up and I can imagine the look in her eyes. How they go half lidded when she’s⁠—

I don’t let myself finish the thought.

My boots eat the distance between the dumpsters and her car in about four strides, and then my hand’s on his shoulder, hard, hauling him back before his mouth gets anywhere near hers.

He stumbles, and catches himself on the hood of her car. “What the f⁠—”

“Knox!” Sawyer’s voice cracks across the lot, a pitch that’s somewhere between shock and fury. “What are you doing here?”

I don’t answer her…I can’t, not yet, not until this is fucking guy is handled, because the second I look at her face, I’m going to lose whatever’s left of my grip on the situation.

I get in close to him instead, close enough that he has to tip his head back to look at me. I’ve got a couple inches on him, and he’s got weight on me. None of that matters, not with the adrenaline flooding my veins.

“You’re going to get in your van,” I say, low and even, the voice I use on lawyers and contractors, anyone I need to believe I’m calmer than I am, “and you’re not coming back here. Not tonight, not next week. You’re not going to look her up. You’re going to forget you ever stood in this parking lot.”

He blinks, and straightens his back. “Man, I don’t know who the hell you think you are⁠—”

“I’m the reason you’re walking away tonight with all your teeth.”

I watch him consider my words, let them roll around and measure if Sawyer’s worth the fight. She is, but I hope he’s too fucking stupid to realize. His shoulders droop an inch, all that bravado floating away into the muggy air.

“Knox, stop it.” Sawyer shoves her way between us, pushing at my chest. Her touch goes through me like a current, even in this mess. “Cody, just go. I’m sorry. He’s—” She stops, and scowls at me. “Just go.”

Cody looks at her, then at me. “Whatever.” He backs toward the van, hands up, throwing one last look over his shoulder. “She’s not worth this shit anyway.”

“Motherfucker,” I say through gritted teeth. I should go after him for that. But he’s in his shitty van, the engine sputtering to life faster than I can move.

It’s just the two of us standing there now. Once he’s out of the lot, she rounds on me. “Are you out of your damn mind?”

Her voice shakes with rage and fuck, I can’t help the smile that escapes my lips.

“You had no right!” She pushes me hard in the chest. “I fucking told you to stop following me!” Again, and I let her. I love it. “To get out of my life!”

I’m against her car now, breathing heavy, fisting my hands to stop from grabbing her and throwing her on the hood.

“Sawyer—”

“No!” She steps back, arms wrapped around her chest. “I changed my number. I turned off my location. I have done everything I know how to do to get you to leave me alone, and you’re still finding ways to show up. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to decide who touches me, who gets close. Not anymore.”

“That guy was a creep who wanted in your pants.” The thought makes me see red. I rip my hand through my hair. “He could have⁠—”

“He was nice to me.” Her voice cracks. “For one night, somebody was nice to me and didn’t know anything about me and didn’t need anything from me, and you took that too.”

I wait for the guilt to show up. It doesn’t. I hate to see her upset, but I don’t feel bad for what I did. I’d do the same thing again, given the chance.

“Go home, Knox.” She unlocks her car and opens the door. “Go home to your fiancée. Leave me alone.”

She gets in, slamming the door.

“Sawyer, talk to me,” I yell loud enough that she’ll hear me through her closed windows. “Come on, don’t go.” I move behind her car, leaning on the trunk, and peering through her back windshield. She’s still in park but she revs the engine. “I’m not moving!”

The engine revs again, louder, like she can drown me out with noise instead of words. I don’t move. I’ve stood in front of scarier things than a Civic with bald tires and a check engine light that’s been on for years. She won’t⁠—

The car jerks backward, her bumper catching me low across the thigh, more of a shove than a hard hit, but enough that my leg buckles and I’m grabbing for the trunk to keep from going down on the asphalt.

“Jesus, Sawyer!”