Page 29 of The Quiet After The Fall

Her lips have my thoughts automatically going to a place they shouldn’t be. I focus on my sandwich.

We eat quietly, but now it feels like a different kind of quiet than the train. Easier, not by much but something changed after we sat on those museum steps and talked about old times. She hasn’t gone back to how it was before yet, so I’ll hold on while I can.

I’m on my last bite of grilled cheese, contemplating a slice of pie, when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Sawyer looks up from her plate, waiting to see if I answer it.

I pretend I don’t hear it.

“If I get some apple pie, will you eat some?” I ask, changing the subject.

She reads me like a book. “You can answer your phone. I really don’t care.”

“Nah, I’m good,” I say. “About that pie⁠—”

It buzzes again.

Fucking hell.

I pull it out and feel everything I just ate sink in my gut like lead. Vince Moretti’s name is lit up on my screen. Sawyer’s eyes move from the screen to my face. Her expression mirrors how I feel.

“Ella’s dad?” she asks. “You should answer.”

I stare at it, hoping the fucking phone will evaporate into thin air. It stops but starts again seconds later. Sawyer sets down what’s left of her chicken finger and sits back, fidgeting with her fork. Our easy quiet, the spell that this diner cast over us, is already gone. I don’t have to say a word to her to know.

I breathe out and steel myself, then hit answer. “Hello, Vince.”

Chapter 8

Sawyer

Knox’s jaw is set in a way I’ve seen one too many times before. Fingers clenched around his phone, he moves to slide out of the booth.

I reach across the table and close my hand around his forearm.

He stops, straightening his back.

“Stay,” I whisper.

I know what happens if he gets up and puts physical distance between us. The night was just starting to feel like something real and I’m not ready to watch it end.

“Yes, sir,” he says to Moretti. He looks down at my hand on his arm. Then at my face. He covers his speaker with his hand. “I have to take this, Sawyer.”

“I know.” I don’t let go. “Just stay with me.”

For a second, I think he’s going to pull away, but he doesn’t. He sits forward a bit, phone still in his hand, and speaks without breaking eye contact with me.

“I remember,” he says, setting his lips in a hard line.

Moretti’s voice is faint, but I can make out his tone and there’s nothing friendly about it.

“I’ll speak with her.”

There’s a long silence where he’s clearly being talked at. His eyes leave mine and settle on the wall behind me.

“I understand what’s expected of me. Yes. She won’t be a problem.”

He ends the call and puts the phone on the table face down. Sounds around us go on like normal. The cash register beeping, Sally taking orders, outdated pop music coming from overhead speakers.

I let go of Knox’s arm, and pull my hand into my lap.