Page 191 of Bend

The guys were angry because hurt like that had to go somewhere. The girls were wrecked right along with them because this wasn’t something happening to the team while they watched from the outside.

Wolfe belonged to all of us.

He was threaded through every part of this group, every stupid story and garage argument and beach night and race weekend, and losing him didn’t leave one person broken.

It tore straight through the middle of the family.

Thorne vanished for a while.

When he came back, his knuckles were swollen.

Nobody asked, and I didn’t need to.

Somebody got us back to the house eventually, though I couldn’t tell you who drove or what route we took or whether anyone spoke on the way. I remember climbing out of the vehicle and staring at the front door like I didn’t understand why we were there without Wolfe.

Inside was worse.

His shoes were still by the door, one black trainer kicked half underneath the little table and the other sitting crooked beside it like he’d stepped out of them without thinking. His jacket was still slung over the back of one of the dining chairs, and there was a mug beside the sink with the coffee ring dried around the bottom because apparently nobody could bring themselves to wash it.

I made it upstairs before any of that could properly sink in. Then I opened my bedroom door, and remembered the night before.

Wolfe had been in there.

Not some distant memory I had to reach for. Last night.

His laugh had filled this room. His hands had been on me. He’d held me against his chest while we talked about things I usually found a way to joke around, and when I admitted how much of my life I spent trying to make sure I was worth keeping, he’d looked at me like the idea was fucking ridiculous.

You already are.

I’d told him I was working on believing that.

Good. You’ve got time.

My chest caved in.

His hoodie was still on the floor beside the bed where I’d tossed it the night before.

I stared at it for maybe three seconds before I broke.

I crossed the room, grabbed it with both hands and pulled it over my head so fast I barely got my arms through the sleeves. It still smelled like him. That clean, familiar woodsy scent, smoke and whatever cologne he wore lightly enough that I never really noticed it until now.

That was all it took.

I crawled into bed and curled onto the side he’d slept on, dragging the blanket up around me while I pressed my face into the pillow.\

Because he was there too.

In the sheets. On the pillowcase.

Every fucking breath gave him back to me for half a second before reminding me he was gone.

The sound that came out of me didn’t even feel human.

I shoved my face deeper into the pillow and clutched the front of his hoodie in both fists, trying to keep quiet because everyone downstairs was already hurting and I didn’t want to add mine to the pile.

It didn’t work.

It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before the mattress dipped behind me.