CHAPTER SEVENTEEN #2
“One for birth, one for life, and one for death,” I say, repeating what my dad told me years ago.
I catch Sarah watching Michael as he carries the shovels back to the shed. He sets them inside, then turns toward the house.
“Michael, I…” she starts, her voice low, uncertain.
But he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even look her way. Just limps past her and heads into the living room.
Her bottom lip trembles for just a second before she bites down on it, trying to stop it. I don’t think she expected that.
Neither did I.
You could cut the tension between them with a knife. He hasn’t said a word to her since we left the parking lot, and I’m starting to wonder if, deep down, he blames her for everything that happened.
Their dad taught them to fight back, to stand their ground, just like Michael did when Brandon’s gang caught him in the woods. But Sarah didn’t kill Axel when she had the chance, and Michael can’t accept that.
Through the back door, I watch Michael limp into the living room and ease down on the couch, his hand pressed to his injured knee. Sarah watches him from the doorway, torn. She wants to go to him—I can see it—but her feet won’t move. She wants to explain, but it’s clear she blames herself too.
◆◆◆
I run my fingers along the soft skin of her waist, feeling her shallow breaths against my cheek. She hasn’t moved since she lay down on the bed, but I can tell she’s tense. I just know.
“I can feel your eyes on me,” I murmur.
“Sorry.”
That simple apology hits me like a punch to the chest.
I open my eyes and meet hers, bright green and locked on me. But that doesn’t quiet the chaos in my head. I keep seeing it, over and over, how fucking close I came to losing her.
We’re lying in one of the upstairs bedrooms, the one with the wall of windows overlooking the lake. Lorelai and Ryan took the room next door, with the cracked mirror, and Michael claimed the one with the fireplace.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I say.
“That was all my fault.”
“No. I never should’ve left you alone.”
What the hell was I thinking?
She watches me, reading every crack in my face. She shifts on the bed, the old frame creaking beneath us. I hate the silence between us, but I don’t know how to break it.
“I let myself get hurt… again.” She turns her face away, avoiding my eyes, her guilt plain as day. Then she lets out a sharp breath. “Maybe I’m cursed.”
I know what she’s doing, spiraling into that self-blame cycle she’s so good at. But I’m not letting her go there.
I slide my hand to the nape of her neck, pulling her close. “Stop it right now. I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not true. People fall, get bruised, break a bone. That’s just life.”
Her chin trembles. “But it happens to me all the time.”
“And yet, here you are, stronger than any of us.”
“I don’t know about that, James.”
“Yeah, you are. You’re so strong, baby. The only thing you ever do is blame yourself, like every little accident is your fault, like it means something about who you are. But it doesn’t.”
She looks down, eyes wet.
“I’m tired of feeling pain, James.”
“I know, baby, and if I could, I’d carry that pain for you. But do you know what you did when I reached you in the parking lot?”
Her beautiful green eyes meet mine again.
“You smiled. Even after everything. That’s not weakness, Sarah. That’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”
She shakes her head. “All I ever do is cause trouble for you and Michael.”
“No. You’re the one who keeps us together.”
“Yeah, so you can keep taking care of me.”
“No,” I say, more firmly now. “We take care of each other. And you’re the heart of this whole damn thing, Sarah. You just don’t see it.”
Her breath hitches, and I feel her hands rest lightly on my chest. That’s when I know she’s about to tell me something she hasn’t told anyone.
“You know, when my dad taught Michael and me to hunt, he used to say the same thing: ‘If you’re gonna carry a gun, you better be ready to pull the trigger.’” Her fingers shift against my chest, like she’s remembering the weight of the rifle.
Then she looks down, her voice barely a whisper.
“I thought I was ready. But when it came down to it, I couldn’t even aim at the men who took me. ”
I know I shouldn’t feel relieved, but a selfish part of me is glad. She doesn’t want to be like me.
A killer.
“I can’t do it, James. I can’t take a life.” She shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. “Even if they’re bad… I-I just can’t. I’m sorry.”
I cup her face gently in my hands and guide her eyes back to mine. “It’s okay. I’ll always be by your side, Sarah. What happened today won’t happen again.”
“But you can’t be everywhere at once, James.”
“For you, I’ll split myself into as many pieces as it takes.”
“How many of those pieces are mine?”
“Every single fucking part of me belongs to you, just like every single part of you is mine.”
Her smile is small, sweet, and entirely Sarah. I take her hand and our fingers lace together just the way they always do.
She looks at our hands for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “Sometimes I wonder how different things would’ve been if the world hadn’t fallen apart. Maybe we wouldn’t have met.”
Just the idea of not knowing her makes me shiver.
I press her hand to my chest, right over my heart.
“Fate couldn’t have kept us apart. I would’ve found you.”
She arches a brow, lips curving into a teasing smile. “You think you’re perfect, don’t you?”
“Absolutely.” I flash her a cocky wink, and she laughs.
God, that laugh makes the world feel right again.
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You feeling okay? Does your back hurt? Need anything?”
“Right now, all I need is chocolate. A lot of it.”
I chuckle. Should’ve guessed she’d say that.
“I’ll keep searching for it.”
Chocolate. The holy grail. Practically a unicorn these days. Truth is, she’s better than chocolate. Better than anything, if you ask me.
“I heard what you said to Michael in the parking lot,” she says softly. “About Texas. About what you did there, about… my dad knowing who you are.”
“I know. I wanted you to hear it too.”
“I heard what Kevin did to you too,” she murmurs, brushing her finger over the cigarette burn scars on my forearm.
My arm twitches like it remembers the pain.
I never told her. Never wanted her to know that part of me.
How does she know about Kevin?
She sees the question in my eyes and answers before I can ask.
“I heard you that night, when you were talking to Michael about your first kill.” Her hand moves to my face, gently turning it until I’m looking into her big green eyes.
“You were just a kid. And he… he hurt you so much. I didn’t know someone could be that cruel.
Could cause that kind of pain to another person. ”
“That’s the messed-up part, Sarah. I cause that pain too, and I liked it,” I say, the bitterness catching in my throat.
Her hand freezes against my skin, but she doesn’t pull away.
“It’s so easy for me to kill.” I swallow, a muscle jumping in my jaw. “Men like those in that parking lot. They’re monsters, and I like seeing the life drain out of them. All Outsiders do. That’s why we’re the ones out there fighting them.”
“Why do they call people like you Outsiders?”
“Because we never put down roots. We don’t stay in one place for too long. We keep moving, from town to town, always fighting.”
“So why did you leave Texas then?”
I exhale slowly. “Because I gave up.”
Her expression shifts, like that wasn’t the answer she expected.
“When my dad died, I couldn’t fight anymore.
I lost my reason for it all because, in the end, none of it mattered.
I couldn’t save everyone. So I left Texas and came out here in Colorado, hoping to find that town up north.
I just wanted to see if it was possible to have that again.
I tried so hard in Texas to make a safe place for everyone, but every time I drove one gang out of a town, another moved in. ”
“How many of you are there? You’re like… an army?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not like that.
My dad told me once, when I was thirteen, that it all started in Montana.
Just one guy. His family was murdered right in front of him.
After that, he was the first one to stand up, to question orders, break the rules.
He didn’t run like the rest of us. Didn’t fall in line.
He fought back. And the people he saved?
They started fighting too.” I twirl one of her braids between my fingers.
“Now people just know—wherever there’s an Outsider, there’s gonna be blood and violence.
That’s why they’re scared of us, even when we’re just trying to help.
To them, it’s not just a name. It’s a warning. ”
I run my fingers over her scalp, just under her braid. She lets out a soft little sigh and closes her eyes.
I heard her in the parking lot, telling Michael how Axel grabbed her. How he yanked her by the hair.
He hurt her.
And I wasn’t there.
The thought slams into me again, and the anger comes rushing back, hard and heavy, like waves crashing into concrete.
She’s still wearing that green jacket, zipped all the way to her throat, and just seeing it sends me straight back to the moment I heard her gunshot.
I ran so fast from the gas station to the parking lot that my veins were on fire, ready to burst through my skin.
Every second it took to get there felt like a lifetime.
And now my brain won’t stop flashing through every awful thing that happened to her because I wasn’t there.
“Sarah, did Axel touch you?” My voice comes out sharper than I meant.
She starts fiddling with the hem of her jacket, her nervous tell. She always does that when she’s on edge. And I already know the answer.
Son of a bitch!
“I tried to grab my pocketknife, but he pinned me to the ground. I couldn’t stop him.”
I tilt her chin up so her eyes meet mine. “Where did he touch you?”
She hesitates, biting her lip, and I can see the storm of emotions in her eyes.
“On the… butt,” she whispers, almost too embarrassed to get the word out.
My chest tightens with rage, but I don’t let it show. She’s on the edge again, and I can’t let her drown in shame.
Flip the switch, James. Make her laugh. Pull her out.
“You mean this butt?” I grab her ass with my hand. “My butt?”
That does it. She snorts a cute-as-hell laugh, and her cheeks flush that perfect shade of pink.
“Yeah… he slapped it,” she admits, still smiling, but with that shy look she gets.
I drop my jaw in mock shock. “He what? Nobody touches my butt. Only me.”
She giggles now, covering her mouth, but she’s doing a terrible job of hiding it. “Oh my God, stop saying ‘butt.’”
I pull her on top of me, wrapping her tight in my arms. Every time she gets this close, it’s like another piece of home falling into place.
I kiss her, long and deep, like there’s no tomorrow.
Because the truth is, we almost didn’t get one.