CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
JAMES
All because of me.
Every Outsider knows it. People get hurt. People die. Because of us. We want a world where people don’t live scared, but no matter what we do, in the end, we can’t save everyone.
The morning air is crisp, not cold enough to see my breath, but just enough to remind me winter is coming. It should’ve snowed by now, but it’s running late this year.
It’s been two days since the Reed brothers ambushed us.
We stayed so she could rest. The campsite is already cleared out.
Even the fire’s out, nothing left but scorched dirt.
We packed up everything: tents, sleeping bags, pots and pans.
Michael even brushed away our footprints, but none of that hides what I still see.
Sarah’s blood. Right there in the grass.
The sight of it yanks the rage back to the surface. The demons in my head stir. My heart starts to race. My breathing goes ragged. And I’m back in that dark place. Back in my nightmare.
I had to watch my girlfriend and my best friend get tortured. I… I’ll never be fucking fine again.
Warm fingers slip through mine. I glance at my side and catch Sarah watching me.
“Are you ready to go north?” she asks.
Her green eyes shine in the sunlight, pulling me out of it.
I kiss her forehead. “Yeah, as long as you’re with me.”
I look back at the camp one last time, eyes on the three stones we left under the pine tree Sarah chose, where we said goodbye to Alicia. One stone for her birth, one for her life, and one for her death. We don’t know where Tyler left her, but this was the only way we knew how to say goodbye.
When I can finally move, I turn and walk away from my worst nightmare.
“Hey, you guys have a room for me in that dream house of yours?” Michael calls from up ahead.
“Yep, big brother. The basement,” Sarah replies, her voice light as she walks beside me.
Michael smirks over his shoulder. “Fucking perfect. Gonna throw some wild parties down there.”
Sarah narrows her eyes at him. “Fine,” she says, but she doesn’t stop there. “But if you do that, I’ll walk around the house naked.”
God, she’s good at putting images in my head.
Michael mutters a curse under his breath, and Sarah just looks pleased with herself. I chuckle as they slip back into their usual sibling game of who-can-annoy-who-more.
We walk for hours, the teasing eventually fading. By nightfall, we reach a cracked concrete road. Just across it, under a row of pine trees, there’s an old log diner with a busted-up sign swinging above the door: Sunny’s All-American Diner.
I draw in a slow breath, memory creeping in like smoke, and for a second, I remember what life used to be, back when I ate lunch in places like this and my biggest worry was whether I had room for dessert, not whether someone was lurking in the dark, waiting to slit my throat.
I miss that world, the one we didn’t know we were losing.
Funny how the end of the world makes you miss the little things—bad French fries, over-easy eggs, sticky booths, and cheap jukebox music.
“I remember places exactly like this,” I say, my flashlight sweeping over the dusty windows. “My parents used to drag me to a diner just like this one.”
“Should we check it out?” Michael asks. His flashlight sweeps over the log walls, perfectly intact, like years of scorching summers and brutal winters never left a mark.
I’m about to nod when I catch the tremble of Sarah’s flashlight out of the corner of my eye.
I glance at her, and my chest tightens—a heavy pressure settling in my ribs when I see the fear in her eyes.
Her hand is shaking, her flashlight unsteady in her grip.
Her shoulders are so tense, you’d think she was carrying a backpack full of bricks, but I’m the one actually carrying her pack. She’s too bruised to even try.
I reach out and touch her hand lightly. She flinches, nearly jumping out of her skin. Her eyes are locked on the diner as if she expects a monster to come crashing out through the door.
She’s not curious. She’s scared.
Seeing her like this… it’s like watching the brightest star in the sky flicker and fade.
“Sarah?”
Her eyes meet mine. “Do you think it’s safe?”
Hearing those words from her… that’s not the Sarah I know. The Sarah I know would’ve kicked the door in by now.
I take her hand again and give it a squeeze. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you here.”
“You promise?”
“Yeah, baby, I promise.”
Her teeth catch her bottom lip, her eyes flicking back to the diner.
“Okay,” she whispers.
We move slowly toward the diner, my flashlight casting light on the trees around it. The night’s dead still, not even a breeze. Then something at the back of the diner catches my eye, and I stop.
Sarah keeps walking, unaware, but Michael stops mid-step. “James?”
“You guys go ahead,” I say, my eyes still locked on the shadows behind the diner. “I need to check something out.”
Sarah frowns. “Everything okay?”
I give her a reassuring smile. “Yeah. Go on inside. It’ll be warmer in there.”
She watches me for a moment, then nods and follows Michael.
She hesitates at the door, her fingers tightening around the flashlight. Michael holds the door open for her, and she glances over her shoulder at me, like she just needs one more second of courage. Then she steps inside.
I watch them disappear into the dark, their flashlights glowing faintly through the dust-covered windows. Then I square my shoulders and head around to the back.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m back at the front door. Through the big windows set into the log walls, I see ripped red leather booths, square tables, and a dead jukebox in the corner. Behind the bar, dusty glasses just sit there, as if somebody walked off mid-shift and never came back.
Then I see her.
Sarah catches her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Her pale skin is covered with purple bruises, and a dried cut lingers on her lip.
She touches her cheek, right over the cut Tyler left with a slap. Her eyes stay locked on the mirror, blinking like she doesn’t even recognize the girl staring back.
And I know what she’s seeing; it’s not just bruises. It’s everything Tyler did to her. Everything he made her feel.
With a flick of her fingers, she shuts off her flashlight, and her reflection disappears, as if by not seeing it, maybe she won’t have to remember.
And I hate that I couldn’t protect her from any of it.
She turns away from the bar and steps into the center of the room, right onto what must’ve been a dance floor near the jukebox.
The moment I hear the faint hum from the back of the building, I know it’s time.
I push open the front door, and the room lights up with hundreds of tiny Christmas lights flickering on, stretching across the ceiling like a sky full of stars.
Sarah’s mouth drops open as the lights bathe her face in soft color. She doesn’t move, just stands there, her eyes darting from a red light to a green one, then to a yellow one, like she’s afraid to blink and miss it.
For a second, I think she might cry. But instead, she smiles.
And for the first time since that night with Tyler, there’s light in her eyes again.
Slowly, she lifts her free hand, reaching up toward a string of glowing blue bulbs above her. She brushes one lightly with her knuckle, and her lips part in awe.
Sarah’s never seen anything like this, not in real life. Only in pictures or the old movies we watched at the lake house. She grew up knowing light only from bonfires and flashlights.
I’d found an old generator out back, something you don’t come across every day.
At first, when my flashlight hit it, I wasn’t even sure what I was looking at.
Just a hunch. But when I yanked the tarp off and got a closer look, I knew.
It might’ve been busted, might not even turn on, but hell, it was worth a shot.
Michael flicks off his flashlight and drops into a chair, his face just as stunned as Sarah’s.
Then the jukebox hums to life, and a slow love song fills the room.
Sarah spins toward the sound, a small laugh escaping her.
The title scrolls across the flickering display: “Say You Won’t Let Go” by James Arthur. Every word feels like it was written for us. Like the song knew our story before we did.
I walk toward her, drawn irresistibly by her light. Her eyes find mine, and I smile, small at first, but it grows the closer I get.
My hands find her waist, and hers come to my arms, her touch soft, her broken fingers resting carefully on my shoulder, wrapped in their splint.
We start to dance, our bodies close. I look down at her, and she’s already staring up at me, like she’s memorizing every detail of the man dancing with her under the glow of the Christmas lights.
“Thank you,” she says softly.
“For what?”
“For reminding me that even in the dark, there can still be light.”
I lean in, pressing my lips to hers. Tasting her. Showing her what words can only try to say, but a kiss can prove.
She isn’t just part of my survival. She’s the reason for it.
She leans her head against my chest, the music still playing softly in the background. After a minute, she looks up at me and asks, “What are you thinking about?”
I hold her gaze. “The first time we danced together. At Michael’s birthday party, back at the ranch.” The memory flashes before my eyes like it happened yesterday.
She arches a brow, teasing. “You mean the first time you ever touched me?” Her lips twitch into a grin. “You were so nervous, your hands were shaking on my waist.”
My skin heats at the memory, a blush creeping up my neck. She’s not wrong.
“What did you expect? I was touching the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, in that pink dress with that reckless slit up your thigh.” I groan, shaking my head at the super-hot memory. “How your dad ever let you out of the house in that, I’ll never understand.”
“You remember the dress?”
“How could I forget? I spent the whole night thinking about how much I wanted to take it off.”
She laughs again, but this time, her cheeks flush with color.
“I remember everything about you, Sarah. You, dancing around the bonfire at our camp. Your butterfly drawings on the blackboard in that old school. You, pulling that tiny flower from your pocket and handing it to me. Your smile when you jumped off the dock at the lake house. Your fingers braiding your hair in front of that old mirror in the city. You, reading every morning in our bed.”
I don’t take my eyes off her. Her green eyes glow, just as bright as the lights flickering above us. “You are my everything.”
Sarah blinks, like she’s storing every word deep inside her.
“You didn’t say a single word to me during that dance at Michael’s birthday party,” she says.
“Because all I wanted to do was kiss you.”
That memory still feels like a sweet kind of torture. Watching the other guys at the ranch touch her, hold her, dance with her—each one of them probably hoping to steal a kiss.
“It was brutal, standing there, watching all those guys dance with you.”
“And yet, you let them all dance with me.”
I run a hand through my hair. “You weren’t mine yet. Damn it. I couldn’t do anything but watch.”
“Brian was a great dancer, very confident,” she says, amusement in her tone. “But Bruce… oh, he was something else. He had this way of touching me.” She lets out a breathy moan on that last word, dragging her fingers down my arm just to fucking torture me.
“Oh my God, woman, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
Sarah giggles. “You have no idea how fun it is to mess with your head.”
I narrow my eyes at her, but I’m more than happy to see her provoking me like she used to.
She reaches up and toys with the hair at the back of my neck, twisting a lock around her fingers. “Why did you dance with me at that party anyway? We didn’t even talk back then.”
“Michael’s orders.” I nod toward Michael, still sitting in his chair, staring up at the Christmas lights. “He shoved me onto the dance floor to keep Brian from kissing you.” I smirk. “Best plan he ever had.”
Sarah throws her head back, laughing, then glances at her brother. “Nice plan, big brother. Worked out perfectly.”
Michael finally looks at us, crossing his arms and scowling. “If I’d known James would end up with you, I would’ve beat the shit out of him that night.”
I laugh, shaking my head. The irony still gets me. Michael, trying to protect her, ended up giving me the love of my life.
I cup her cheek. “It wouldn’t have mattered, Sarah. The second I saw you that night, I already knew… you were going to be mine.”
She exhales, her breath warm against my skin. “And I already knew you belonged to me.”
“Forever?”
“Forever.”
I close the space between us and kiss her deeply, without rushing, as if she’s the only thing that exists. Because to me, she is.
If I could bottle this moment and keep it forever, I would.
I’d survive on it.
I’d live in it.
I hear the front door creak open. We all turn at the same time. Three people stand in the doorway—Bruce, Chloe, and the last person I ever want to see again.
“Brian?” Sarah breathes.
“Sarah, I found you.”