Chapter 21 #2
She steps toward me, swaying slightly, voice sweet as syrup.
"You don’t need her, Sawyer. Not when you have me.
" She flicks her hand in the air like Charli’s nothing more than a temporary inconvenience, an afterthought to be brushed aside.
My jaw clenches. How does she even know Charli left?
And what the hell is she even doing here at the wedding to begin with?
The audacity coils in my gut, a tight, burning knot.
There’s a calculated gleam in her eyes, like she’s been waiting for this moment, orchestrating it all from behind the scenes.
My stomach turns, I go rigid, and my blood turns to ice.
She places a hand on my chest, nails grazing my jacket lapel. "We were good together once. You remember that. And now that she’s out of the way—"
I grab her wrist and push it back gently but firmly, my fingers trembling with fury barely contained.
"What did you say to her?" My voice is low, deadly calm—because if I let myself yell, I won’t stop. I don’t care about politeness, or that we’re still at my brother's wedding.
I care about the woman who just ran from me—and the fact that Ava looks damn proud of it.
Ava blinks, all faux innocence. "To who?"
"To Charli," I snap, stepping in closer, my patience threadbare. "What. Did. You. Say." My voice is sharp enough to slice through steel, each word slow and deliberate, like a lit fuse burning down to the inevitable explosion. I’m done playing nice.
Her lips twitch into a smile. Smug. Satisfied.
That’s when it clicks—this wasn’t chance.
This wasn’t a coincidence. She orchestrated it.
She said something, twisted a knife in just the right way to send Charli running.
And she’s proud of it. The knowledge detonates in my chest like a landmine.
She did this. She made her leave. And she’s standing here smiling like she’s already won.
Fury rises, white-hot and wild. I step back, every muscle in my body taut with rage. "You went behind my back and messed with her. After everything you already did to me, you thought you could come here and screw up the one good thing I had left?"
Ava’s expression falters. "Sawyer—" she breathes, stepping closer again, her voice shaky now but still laced with desperate insistence. "You know we were good together. We had something real—don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that.
The way we used to be, how we fit together, how we understood each other like no one else ever has. "
She reaches out, fingertips grazing the edge of my jacket sleeve like a whisper, her eyes shimmering with something that might’ve once passed for vulnerability.
"You and me... we make sense. We are meant to be. I know I messed up, but people change. I’ve changed.
Haven’t you ever thought about it? About us? "
Her voice drops into something softer, coaxing. "Charli doesn’t belong in our world, Sawyer. But I do. I always have. I’m not here to fight anymore. I’m here to make things right—because you don’t need her. You need me."
"Don’t. Just—don’t." My voice is sharp, slicing through the lingering clatter of the reception like a whip. "You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to come in here, screw with Charli’s head, and act like you're doing me a favor."
Ava's eyes widen for a fraction of a second before narrowing, lips parting like she might try again. But I’m not done.
"You were good at pretending," I continue, my voice low and tight with fury. "But you don’t get to rewrite history, and you sure as hell don’t get to play the victim now.
So let me make it real fucking clear—stay the hell away from me.
And from Charli. Because if you come near her again, I will ruin you. "
Ava’s face twists in disbelief, her eyes wide and blinking like she can’t fathom how the script didn’t play out the way she imagined.
For a moment, she looks genuinely rattled—like the thought that her scheme might backfire never even occurred to her.
That her charms, her manipulations, her carefully calculated performance wouldn’t be enough to pull me back in.
It’s written all over her face: confusion, frustration, and a desperate glint of disbelief that the world might finally see through her act.
I ignore the look on her face and turn on my heel, storming out with fury clenching my jaw and my heart hammering like a war drum.
Every step pounds with purpose—rage, betrayal, and something dangerously close to heartbreak.
I'm done with her games. Done with being manipulated.
I will not let Ava be the end of this. I will find Charli.
And I will make this right. No matter what it takes.
Because I am not losing her. Not like this.
Behind me, Ava’s voice rises in a pitch just shy of a wail, frantic and strained.
"Sawyer, please! Don’t walk away from this—we were real!
" Her desperation clings to each word like a drowning woman to driftwood, cracking through the last shreds of her composure. There’s no grace left in her voice, no arrogance—just raw, unfiltered need.
But I don’t stop. I don’t turn around. Let her beg all she wants.
That chapter is closed, and I’m done rereading the same lies.