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“But what if—”
I push past all of them, heading upstairs.
“Where are you going?” Jasper calls.
“Gonna lay down for a minute.”
I hear the silence as they stare at my back, then the shuffle as they all cast looks at each other. Confused. Wondering what’s wrong with me.
I head up the stairs alone.
It’s pointless to talk this over with them—I already know what needs to be done. We’ll have to take on a new partner. The options are few and I hate all of them, but there’s no other choice—we’ll burn every bridge we’ve built if we can’t get our product out on time.
I lay down on my bed, hands clasped behind my head, looking up at the ceiling.
I wonder what Sabrina’s doing right now, at this moment?
I don’t believe for a second that she’s satisfied with burning the lab. She took that equipment because she’s going to start cooking drugs again.
“If we went head-to-head you’d learn a thing or two about what I can do …”
That’s what she shouted at me right before she left.
We were both yelling, both angry. I lost my mind for a minute, I didn’t mean any of it.
But Sabrina did.
She’s always been more honest than me.
I thought she’d cool off and come right back again. Now I realize this is only the beginning. She sees me as her enemy, her rival. Her betrayer.
I asked her to jump, I promised that I’d catch her … then I let her slip through my arms and fall …
She’s been gone twenty-four hours. Every minute that passes is a spoon scooping into my guts, digging out another piece of me. There’s a hole in my chest, a deep hollow … if I lose anymore, I might collapse.
I miss her. I fucking miss her.
Reminding Me – Shawn Hook
Spotify → geni.us/savage-spotify
Apple Music → geni.us/savage-apple
I can smell her shampoo in the shower, the hand soap she bought in Danilovsky market, the last spritz of her perfume she pressed from wrist to throat before setting the bottle back on the shelf.
I roll off the bed and retrieve the bottle from the bathroom. It fits in my palm like a purple glass grenade, the lid missing or lost. I spray the perfume into the air. The mist settles on my outstretched palm. I cover my face with my hand, inhaling deeply.
Sabrina.
Sabrina …
The ache in my chest is too much.
I lay down on the bed once more, pulling out my phone. Starting at the beginning, I scroll through at every photo I have of her.
The very first is the one she sent me after Dubrovnik, crouching at the wheel of her bike, working the wrench. Looking back over her shoulder, eyebrow raised in mild surprise, a smile breaking out as she catches sight of whoever stood there holding the camera—probably her mom, or maybe her dad or brother or grandpa. Grease streaked under her eye like a baseball player, hair tied back by a filthy bandanna, little curls coming down. Her upraised palm gripping the wrench, bicep tensed like Rosie the Riveter, cheeky and fierce.
Next the photo of us in Cannon Beach, her arms wrapped around the waist of the ridiculously oversized teddy-bear I won for her, head thrown back, mouth open in laughter. I can hear that laugh, I can see the color in her cheeks, hot from all our battles. She was still egging me on, trying to get me to play her inHaloagain. I was determined to win her that bear—I aimed for those targets with a clarity of mind I’ve never known before or since, like it was the most important task in the world. Goddamn if I didn’t hit every one, even with that shitty rigged rifle.
