Page 11 of Beautiful Ruins
“I’m not—” I bit off the words, held them in my throat where they could choke me instead of him.
He was on me then, pressing his hands against the wall beside my head, caging me in. The scent of cologne and smoke clung to him, familiar and jarring all at once.
“You got any idea what it was like?” he said, staring me down. “You just disappeared. No note, no nothing. You should have been at the funeral. Logan deserved that much, surely.”
And there it was. I’d been waiting for it, waiting for the knife he was going to stab into my chest the moment he got close enough. Except it wasn’t his blade that caused the fatal wound—that was all mine, the one I’d buried and bled around for the last six years.
“You didn’t want me there,” I said, the words slipping out like they’d been waiting all along to be acknowledged.
“Bullshit,” he spat. The lamp on my dresser flickered with its loose bulb, shadows jumping across his face. “Don’t you dare blame me because you were too much of a coward.”
I ducked under his arm, stumbling back. The corner of my dresser caught my hip, but it didn’t matter. I needed space between us, needed air that didn’t smell like Rowan, like memory.
His anger was completely justified. But he didn’t know the truth, and I wasn’t sure if him knowing would be worse than him still believing I wasn’t there.
“I saw the way you looked at me the next morning.” I lifted a shoulder. “It was obvious.”
I’d gone over to their house the next day, needing to see Rowan. He had been the only person I wanted to be around, but I’d walked in on him talking to his dad, some heated discussion, and the look Rowan had given me made me realise they might have been talking about me. It shattered me even further. I had bolted before he’d even really acknowledged my presence, his voice echoing behind me as I’d run into the bush behind our houses. I’d known then and there that I couldn’t stay in Barrenridge.
“You seriously believe that?” He stared at me, through me, like he couldn’t decide if I was the same Sadie who left or a new one wearing her skin. “You didn’t even give me a chance to explain.”
I swiped at more of my tears. Traitorous things, they were.
“I’m not talking about this with you,” I said, opening my bedroom door. My hand trembled on the doorknob, and I wasn’t sure if I was letting him out, or begging myself to stay in. “Please, just leave.”
Rowan didn’t even flinch. “Tell me what happened,” he said, his voice ragged, less sure as he cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing gently over my bruise. He grew bolder, as though we were destined to dance around each other like this forever. “Who the fuck hurt you?”
“It doesn’t even matter,” I said, stepping away from him. “It’s done now.”
He swayed then, the booze taking its toll. He slumped forward with a grunt, his head falling onto my shoulder. I staggered under the weight of him, under the memories, wincing as a stabbing sensation slashed through my ribs.
“Christ, Rowan,” I said, barely holding him up as I steadied his weight against mine.
If he went down, I was going down with him. No question.
“You’re back,” he mumbled, words thick, slurred, “and you’re going to run again.”
“And you’re wasted,” I muttered, more to myself.
Figured. Some things really didn’t change. And Rowan was already losing the fight to stay conscious, his body swaying back and forth too much to even register my words.
How much had he had to drink? And was this a regular occurrence? I had to get him home before my father got back. Pretty sure a big, bad biker in my room would warrant another lecture. One I had no interest in listening to.
I shifted, and Rowan’s arm slumped across my shoulders, anchoring me to something I didn’t have the strength to carry.
“Come on,” I said, more to myself than to him. “Let’s get you home.”
He grunted again, but it was the first time he remained silent. No smart comment. No questions I didn’t want to answer. Finally.
His body was heavy against mine, and the scent of his cologne brought me back to when I used to pause in the hallway every time I walked past his room when I’d be over. He had almost caught me once, so after that I had to be a little stealthier. I had loved that smell. Still did.
And I hated that. I hated how even now, he could still make my lungs tighten with nothing more than a scent.
With an arm wrapped around his waist, I dragged him downstairs and out the front door. This was only the beginning, I knew that much. I just had to ride it out, like every other storm that had blown through this damn town. I had noplans for what came next, barely making it through one day without an old wound opening back up.
My lungs burned, and I was out of breath by the time we hit the driveway. I stumbled over some loose rocks, the jagged edges stabbing into my bare feet.
The town was made to break you one stone at a time. I kept putting one foot in front of the other, and Rowan kept moving with me, not quite conscious, but also not completely useless either.
