Page 87 of The Quiet After The Fall

“I kind of don’t want you to.”

I shake my head. “There she is.”

We’re a few minutes into the drive, her suitcases wedged in my backseat and both of us watching the mirrors more than the road ahead, barely speaking from the anxiety.

Sawyer runs her fingers up my arm, and I glance her way. “You know, I just realized something.”

“Yeah?”

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you choose something for yourself instead of choosing whatever keeps the peace with your family. Even though it hurts, and even though you knew going to the hospital would be the easier choice.”

I drive, hands tight on the wheel, considering it. She might be right, and I don’t know how to feel about it.

“Feels different. Unnatural, I guess, to not fill the role I always have.”

“Good different?”

I huff a laugh. “Ask me tomorrow.”

“Well, I’m proud of you, Aldrich. Breaking cycles and shit.” She turns up the music, a small smile on her face. “Keep it up.”

That’s the plan.

Chapter 22

Sawyer

Sunlight streams through floral curtains, illuminating a framed painting of a wrinkly old man. Yup, I’m not in my own bed, that’s for sure.

The night comes back to me. Gia’s spy theatrics, Miriam’s estate nestled into the trees and her studio guesthouse. My body aches in places I didn’t know could ache, exhaustion finally catching up with me after two days of running on fumes and adrenaline.

There’s warmth beside me. A body snoring lightly, and he smells like home. Knox is sprawled across the other half of the full-size bed, one arm resting over his eyes.

“How?” I croak and clear my throat. The layer of dust covering every surface is making me rasp. “How did you get in here?”

He cracks one eyelid, the corner of his mouth lifting despite the bruising still mottled across his jaw. “Morning.”

“Knox. Seriously. Gia locked every door. I watched her do it.”

“She did, but she gave me the door code after I insisted.” He stretches and winces, then settles against the headboard. “I parked a half mile down the road and walked the rest of the way through the woods. There’s a gap in the fence line near an old greenhouse.”

“And how did you know that?” I shake my head. “You know what? I don’t want to know.”

“I scouted the property. Wasn’t about to leave you somewhere I hadn’t checked myself.”

He’s still bruised and beaten, walking like a video game character on low health, and he’s trekking through the woods at night. Unbelievable.

“You’re insane. That’s not something a person in your condition should be doing.”

“Nothing’s going to keep me away from you, Thorne.”

My chest squeezes and my stomach does a traitorous little flip.

“That’s incredibly stalkerish, you know that, right?” I try to keep my voice light and teasing, but it comes out softer than I mean it to. “Knew I should have gotten that restraining order.”

“Probably.” He reaches over, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “But that wouldn’t have stopped me either.”

I should laugh it off. Make another joke and deflect the way I always do when things get too heavy. But the intensity in his gaze, and all that he’s done, even bruised and exhausted, pull me in. And I’m so tired of running and denying.