Chapter
Forty-Seven
Soren
My fist connected with the bag and a sharp pain tore through my wrist, but I wouldn’t stop. I punched until I was a puddle of sweat dripping on the floor. Music raged in my ears from the overhead sound system. I had been completely blindsided, and the only thing that made sense was to beat the hell out of this bag tonight. I was here by myself thanks to having my own all-access key fob from Jonah. What had happened? Sawyer had made it abundantly clear she was done, but I didn’t understand why. We had a good thing going—or so I had thought. Suddenly, the music cut and I jerked around to where the door was. Lane had his usual smirk on. His backward ball cap covered his blond hair that curled out from the edges. His smirk dropped.
“Why so angry?” he called out.
He flipped his keys in his hand. I swiped at my brow and squirted a spray of water in my mouth. I weighed the pros and cons of coming clean and knew it didn’t matter. It was a small town, things would be found out, plus I never hid things that significantly mattered from Lane and Jonah. Not since rehab.
“Sawyer called us quits,” I retorted.
“Ooft. Didn’t see that coming.” His head jerked back.
“Yeah, me neither.” I tightened my wraps around my wrists.
“Why?” He straddled a nearby weight bench.
“I don’t know. Just said she didn’t want to date me,” I stated.
“Hell, man. I’m sorry.” Lane blew out a breath.
“If I understood why, I think I’d be okay. I thought we had a good thing going.” I paused. “I thought she was the one.” A shadow passed over Lane’s face. He was all jokes and laughs, but he never talked about “the one” for him.
“If you think she’s the one, don’t give up yet, man. Fight for her.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I hedged.
Lane didn’t completely know her history. He didn’t know how important it was to respect her ability to control her environment.
“It’s a better idea than letting ‘the one’ walk away,” Lane replied solemnly, and without another word, he walked up to me, slapped me on the shoulder and walked out. If anyone knew about that, it was Lane. The reality was, if I didn’t try harder to see if we could make a go of this, I would essentially be Lane. Years later, I’d still be in love with a figment of my imagination because she would be gone. I rubbed at my chest. The ache there was unreachable. I couldn’t let her simply walk away without a good reason, but I also knew that by crowding her I wouldn’t be allowing her to make the choice for herself. As much as I wanted her, I also wanted her to want me, too. No matter how much her words had cut, I couldn’t get over the thought that maybe she was simply scared, but how do you prove to someone you’ll be there? How do you build that foundation of trust when she’d been through hell? How could I let her know I was here for her but also not come on too strong? I debated multiple ideas and reached for my phone to text the guys. Would it be humbling to get their thoughts on how I could reach Sawyer? Hell, yes. Would it be worth it? Absolutely. Sawyer would always be worth any effort I put forward. When I reached for my phone, the date glowed on the screen, and at that moment, I knew what I would do—and who I could call, someone who might be able to help, perhaps even more.
Day One
Soren:
I love your eyes. From the moment I met you, I thought they were the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen.
Day Two
Soren:
I love your hair. I love running my fingers through it.
Day Three
Soren:
I love your brain. You finished college early because you’re a badass smarty.