Chapter Eight
Blake
I HOP ON the back of Sawyer’s motorcycle and wrap my hands around his waist as soon as I settle. Caressing his skin, I run my fingers along the insides of his spread thighs and then up, and up, until I cup his balls and knead them.
It’s funny how fast everything can change.
Sawyer turns his head and looks like he’s holding back laughter. “Do you have a death wish?”
I chuckle.
So, so fast.
The engine roars, and it seems like only a few seconds pass before the motorcycle slows down until it comes to a halt in front of my apartment building.
I wish I lived somewhere far, far away, just so I could wrap around him like a koala bear for hours on end.
We get off and Sawyer puts my helmet—when did it become my helmet?—in the trunk and stuffs his under his arm.
I reach to tussle his hair, putting them into an even more mess than they already are. He mocks offense and I laugh.
“You know,” I say, putting my hands in my pockets, my toes shuffling dirt on the sidewalk, “I kind of wish we could drive off into the sunset.”
He scrunches his forehead and looks at the sky. “The moonset, you mean?”
I grin and shake my head. “I’m not sure that’s the expression.”
He shrugs. “It is now.”
That’s the thing about Sawyer—he creates his world on his own terms. And if you’re lucky enough, he might just let you in it.
“I’m glad I walked into your club. And I don’t mean tonight.”
Sawyer leans in and takes my mouth into a lazy, open-mouthed kiss that ends way too quickly. “As annoying as you were, I’m glad too. Invite me in?”
I snort and swat his chest. “Didn’t you have enough for one night?”
He shoots me a devilish grin. “I’ve got stamina.”
I bet.
“Okay, Sia. I’d love to, but my brother’s asleep. Besides, I should probably tell him about you before I flaunt you around in the middle of the night.”
“Fair.”
“Tomorrow?”
He smiles and gives me another kiss. “Tomorrow.”
The second he turns around to leave, I miss him. I fold my arms over my chest and watch him put his helmet back on, mount his bike, and drive away.
To the moonset.
I’m not even two steps on my route to wake my brother up and tell him all about Sawyer when a deafening sound makes my eardrums hurt.
What the fuck? It’s like a building collapsed somewhere.
The second I turn around, I realize a building hasn’t collapsed.
My life has.
Car alarms pop off one by one, mingling into one giant mass of unbearable noise.
Bright lights flash somewhere in the distance, but my vision barely registers them.
There’s something far worse, making my eyes blurry.
A motorcycle is sliding along the street, collapsed on its side, its wheels turning, the momentum making it spin and bump off the curbs until it comes to a stop several yards away from me. The seat is empty.
I blink, willing my eyes to focus. But nothing else happens. Except for the sounds. The horrible, gut-wrenching sounds from every direction now.
My legs are stiff as if I’m sinking into the ground.
People run by me, some bumping into me on their way.
I barely feel them.
The whole world seems to rush to where the lights are flashing. To where I won’t allow myself to go even in a million years.
My heart stops. I’m not sure I even have one anymore.
Time becomes a dimension I’m no longer a part of.
Loud sirens scream somewhere in the distance, becoming louder and louder.
And then another set. And another.
When an ambulance speeds down the street and comes to a squeaking in the intersection, just beyond my field of vision, I stop breathing as well.
The motorcycle wheels still turn, mocking me, until my eyes drown in tears, and I can no longer see them.
This didn’t happen.
It just didn’t.
I close my eyes, knowing that when I open them again, Sawyer will be standing right in front of me, saying goodbye.
I won’t let him go this time.
I’ll grab his wrist and drag him with me to my apartment. We’ll wake my brother up and Sawyer will introduce himself to him.
They’ll laugh. Then, they’ll come together to mock me, and I’ll pretend I’m mad at them.
And then Sawyer and I will march to my bedroom and lock the door from the inside.
I open my eyes.
The wheels are still turning.
I sob out loud, the sound drowned by the overwhelming noise.
Why?
Why did I let him go?
I didn’t even want to.
How can the universe give you a taste of something and then rip your tongue out your throat the second you start to appreciate it?
Sirens wail again and the ambulance speeds back toward where it came from, going a thousand miles per hour.
And the wheels are still turning.
A silhouette appears in the distance, walking toward me.
It’s not until it comes under the yellow light of a streetlamp that I realize it’s not a person.
It’s a memory.
Or maybe it’s my brain slipping into delusion to save my sanity.
Phantom Sawyer walks toward me. He doesn’t have his jacket on. Don’t they wear leather in heaven? Because that’s where he went. Whatever god that’s currently welcoming him inside is a cruel one.
“Hey,” the phantom Sawyer says when he reaches me. His voice is sad.
Maybe because they won’t let him wear leather.
Come back to me. Come back. You can wear it here.
“Are you okay?” phantom Sawyer asks.
His arms are covered in blood. I burst into tears. “Are you happy there?”
“What?”
“In heaven. Are you happy?”
Maybe I should run into the street. Maybe I could join him.
“Blake? Are you okay?”
Phantom Sawyer reaches for my arm. It’s almost as if I can feel his touch. “Please, Sawyer. Tell me you’re happy. I have to know.”
The phantom hand touches my forehead. There’s concern on his phantom face.
It’s wrong. It’s all wrong. I don’t want to make him sad.
And then, phantom Sawyer says, “I’ll call an ambulance,” and pulls out a cell phone from the back pocket of his bloody jeans.
“What?”
“Blake, talk to me. What’s wrong?”
I open my mouth and close it again. He feels so real. “I don’t understand.”
“Look at me.” He grabs my shoulders and shakes my frame. “Blake!”
His phantom hand slaps my cheeks a couple of times. And it hurts for real.
I reach out and touch his cheek. “Are you—Are you real?”
“Blake, I’m really worried.”
“Are you really here?”
“Yes! What are you talking about?”
“But—” My eyes snap to the motorcycle still lying by the curb. The wheels have stopped turning. My hand is heavy when I lift it and point. “Your bike.”
He looks over his shoulder. “That’s not mine. I parked over there.”
My head spins. “Are you really here?”
“I’m here, Blake.”
Tears flood my eyes, and I collapse on the pavement. I swallow the air in big gulps and suffocate at the same time.
Sawyer squats in front of me and leans in.
I scream, hitting his chest with my fists. “I hate you!” My hands don’t go through his body as I hit him time and time again. His flesh is solid. “I hate you! I hate you!”
He grabs my wrists and pulls my hands down. “Shhh.” The Sawyer I still don’t fully believe is real, wraps his arm around my head and presses my face to his chest. “I’m here. It’s okay.”
The softness in his voice makes me weep even more. “What happened?” I mumble between sobs. “Why are you covered in blood?”
He tightens his hold around me. “There’s been an accident. A car ran a red light and hit the biker driving in front of me. I was giving him CPR before the paramedics arrived. It was a mess.”
The biker. Not Sawyer, the biker. A different one.
“Is he…”
“No,” Sawyer says before I can bring myself to finish the question. “It doesn’t look great, but no. They said he’s gonna pull through.”
My sobs come out dry now. I have no more tears left. “You’re really here.”
“I’m here.”
We sit on the curb for hours, my head pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
The next time I open my eyes, dawn breaks and the first rays of the early morning sun shines through the clouds. He can’t drive away to the moonset anymore.
There’s sand under my eyelids and I struggle to keep my eyes open to see Sawyer’s face. I put my palm on his cheek and stroke it with my thumb. “Sawyer? I don’t care if you walk away—”
“I won’t.”
“I don’t care if you leave. I don’t care if you decide you never want to see me again one day. That’s okay. But don’t you dare die before me. You hear me?”
He gives me a sad smile. “It’s not that easy to get rid of me.”
“I’m serious.”
He nods. “I’ll do my best.”
“Do better!”
His forehead presses against mine, and I close my eyes again. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
People walk by us, paying us no mind as the morning traffic comes.
The motorcycle has been removed from the street.
“Come with me,” I say as I scramble off the sidewalk, my knees cracking audibly, and I reach my hand out to Sawyer. “Come home with me.”
He looks at me, eyes shining across his dirty face. “What about your brother?”
“As much as I hate to admit it, he’s gonna love you.”
I know he will.
How can he not when I do?