Page 18 of Untamed

“Jordyn?” Matteo’s voice drifts into the room, low and unsure.

A crackle of guilt runs through me, stupid and sharp, because he sounds... almost scared to come closer.

I don't answer. I can’t. My throat feels like it's been scraped raw.

There’s a beat of silence, then I hear him step inside, the door clicking shut behind him.

“I brought you some water and something to eat,” he says, like it matters. Like anything could matter.

I feel the weight of him lowering onto the edge of the bed, but I stay frozen, facing the wall, my body tense and small under the heavy blankets.

For a long moment, neither of us says anything. The only sound is the soft clink of a tray being placed on the nightstand.

“You should eat something,” he says after a moment, voice tight. “You haven’t... you haven’t eaten or had anything to drink since...”

Since. He doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to.

The word hangs there between us, thicker than the air, louder than the silence.

Since the accident. Since they died.

My eyes burn, but I don't cry. I have nothing left. Just this vast, empty space where my heart used to be.

I hear Matteo shift beside me, his breath catching like he’s trying to figure out what to say, what he could possibly say to fix any of this.

Spoiler alert: There’s fucking nothing.

Finally, he whispers, almost too low for me to hear: “I'm sorry, Fossette.”

Something cracks deep inside me. But still...I don't move. I don't turn around. Because if I look at him, if I let myselffeelanything right now, I know I’ll fall apart.

And I’m not so sure I'll ever be able to put the pieces back together again.

The front doors slam open with a heavy, echoing crack that rattles through the marble halls. I barely flinch. Curled up in the corner of the bed, the world feels distant, like I’m watching everything through thick glass. “Where is she?” Bianca’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp, frantic. I hear the thud of her footsteps, the quick scrape of her suitcase wheels being abandoned somewhere in the foyer. “Where’s Jordyn?” she cries out again, her voice cracking. Muffled voices answer her. Enzo, maybe, trying to calm her...but she’s already moving, footsteps pounding against the polished floors, getting closer.

And then, the door bursts open. She stands there, puffy-eyed, still in travel clothes, her hair pulled back hastily, face pale and blotchy like she’s been crying for hours.

“Jordyn,” she gasps when she sees me. Bianca walks over to me, kneels there, helpless, tears streaming down her face, her hands shaking like she doesn't know what to do or ow to reach me through all the wreckage between us.

For a long moment, we just stare at each other.

Two broken halves of the same heart. And then, slowly, carefully, like she’s approaching something fragile...something that might shatter if she moves too fast, Bianca reaches out. She gathers me into her arms, pulling me against her chest, rocking us gently back and forth like she used to when I was little andscared of thunderstorms. For a second, I don't move. I stay stiff and frozen, swallowed by the numbness.

But then her hands curl around the back of my head, and she whispers, over and over, “I’m so sorry, Jord. I’m so, so sorry I wasn’t there.”

I didn’t think it was possible, but something inside me breaks all over again.

A ragged, broken sob tears from my throat as I clutch at her desperately, my fingers fisting in the back of her shirt like she’s the only thing tethering me to the earth.

We hold each other, crying so hard it hurts to even breathe.

The grief between us is too big, too heavy, but right now it’s the only thing keeping us standing. I bury my face in her chest, soaking her shirt with tears and blood and everything I don’t have the words for.

“They’re gone, B. Mum and Dad aregone.” I whimper and she tightens her hold on me and sobs. All we have now is each other. In this big cruel world, it’s just the two of us.

Four days have passed since the accident, and the void left by my parents only grows wider and darker with each one.

I’m drowning in it. In the anger, in the bitterness. Resentment burns like acid in my gut.

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