Chapter Forty-Four – Dylan #2
Hopefully, we will find our way back to each other as friends. I’d like to believe that future exists, but until then, I’ll keep you both near my heart with the necklace you gave me. I love yo—
I wish you both the best. Always.
Love, Fawn
What the fuck am I reading? This makes no sense.
Every word blends, and no matter how hard I look at it, I know they won’t change.
The world tilts. Hard.
My heart is pounding as if it’s trying to leap out of my chest, but somehow, between breaths, I’m no longer standing. I’m sitting on the hot curb, the letter gripped tightly, as if it’s all that’s keeping me anchored to reality.
I read it again and again.
Fuck, I’ve lost the girl I love. The best thing in my life has walked away.
My thumb trails over the ink where she’d crossed things out, done so hard, the paper is almost torn. And then, there are the underlines. Thick. Desperate. As if she needed us to see. It’s nothing we’ve done . . . it’s her.
A knot cinches itself just below my jaw and won’t loosen, no matter how many times I swallow. My vision blurs.
No.
No, princess.
It’s never her. I know it’s me. She’s being too kind. I know what she saw last night; she didn’t like it. I didn’t mean to scare her or make her feel small or trapped. The fight. My anger. The way things spiraled so fast, from dinner and music to blood on knuckles.
I keep replaying it in my head, every second, wondering which moment tipped her over the edge. The punch. The yelling. The way she cried into Torin’s chest.
I can hardly hear anything but the pounding of my heart. That’s when I see a shadow, and suddenly, I feel Torin beside me; he’s crouching, and his face goes white.
“Hey, Dylan . . .” His voice comes through above the noise in my head, a steady, centering sound, as if he’s trying to haul me out. I look up at him, struggling to hold it together, to not fall apart. My eyes sting to the point it feels like there’s glass inside.
“It’s over,” I whisper. The words barely make it past my lips. “It’s over. It’s over.”
Just saying the words shatters something in me.
My eyes drift to Torin as his gaze locks on the paper trembling in my fists.
I extend it to him, fingers clenched, as if unwilling to let it go.
He takes it carefully, like it might detonate.
I see the movement of his eyes across the page, the clench of his jaw, and then the moment when the color drains from his face and a darkness ignites behind his eyes.
My chest rises, and I breathe, but it doesn’t feel like enough.
The letter flutters in Torin’s grip. It’s too fucking sunny out, far too ordinary. The birds keep singing. The cars keep driving. The world hasn’t stopped — and yet, ours has.
All I can think about is how carefully she must have folded it, the time she must have spent sitting there by herself writing it.
“I knew it,” I whisper, the words sticking in my throat as I let them out. “I messed up. I pushed her away. Oh my God, I fucking pushed her away.” It feels true the instant I say it. “What have I done?”
Torin doesn’t argue. I want him to say something, anything.
I want him to be angry. What is he thinking?
He hands me the letter, but I literally can’t take it, so it flutters between us to the concrete.
My face is turned away. If I look at it, I’ll break apart at the seams, which I won’t be able to fix.
Torin fishes his phone out of his pocket; his fingers and thumbs fly wildly across the screen.
“She . . .” I swallow hard. I have to start again. “She went to write that she loves us.”
Torin freezes, just for a second.
“But then she scribbled it out,” I manage to say. “Why would she do that?”
My chest caves in completely after that. The image won’t leave my head — Fawn alone somewhere, crying, pen shaking in her hand.
“Torin, say something, please.”
“I don’t know what to say, Dyl. I don’t know what to do or how to feel. I don’t know anything.”
Torin breathes slowly, as if he has a bomb inside his chest.
This isn’t anger. This is grief.
“Fuck! I should have hugged her tighter,” I say, my voice nonexistent. “I knew something was wrong.”
Fists curl into my jeans, nails biting into palms. Finally, Torin meets my gaze, his eyes black and blazing, his phone clenched in his fist so tightly, his knuckles are white. “We’ll get her back,” he says, a tinge of doubt in his voice. “We will.”
My hands shake as I pull my phone out of my pocket. I see Torin’s already messaged her in the group chat.
Torin: Fawn. We’ve read your letter.
Please tell me where you are.
Are you safe?
We need to talk.
Please text or call.
It’s not enough. It’s never enough. I start typing, thumbs flying, panic bleeding into every word.
Me: Can you call us, please? Or meet us? Are you okay?
Fawn, please.
I’m so sorry, princess.
Please don’t end it this way.
I just need to know you’re okay.
Please, princess. Please.
The words shrink the moment they leave my screen. I’m up on my feet before I have time to think, pacing the driveway like a caged animal, crunching the gravel beneath my boots. I dial.
Ring.
Ring.
Voicemail. You’ve reached Fawn. Sorry, I’m not around. Please leave a message.
Ring.
Ring.
Voicemail. You’ve reached Fawn. Sorry, I’m not around. Please leave a message.
Ring.
Ring.
Voicemail. You’ve reached Fawn. Sorry, I’m not around. Please leave a message.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” I repeat as I dial again and again. Each unanswered ring is another stab to my heart.
Torin grabs my phone. “Dylan, stop!” he shouts, loud enough to scare the birds away.
“I have to know she’s safe!” I shout, my heart thudding. “Move the truck,” I jab a finger in its direction.
“Why?”
“Because I’m gonna get in my car and find her!” I snap. “Now, move your fucking truck!”
He puts himself in front of me, his strong hand on my shoulder. “The fuck you are! You’re not going to look for her when you’re like this.” His voice falls into a direct line of truth. “She’s afraid, okay? We don’t want to push her further away.”
Needles prick my throat as I forcefully shake my head. “I already pushed her away. She’s not here with us! She’s gone, and it’s all my fault! I know it is!”
I wrench my phone from his grasp, my fingers already poised over her name—
“Fucking stop!” he snaps, pinning my wrists up against his truck. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
I freeze.
“We’ll get her back,” he says, in a gruff voice but steady, eyes burning with the same fear tearing me apart. “I swear to you. But not like this.” He moves to fill the space between us. “Dylan, look at me.”
I fight to hold it together, my eyes hazy from tears. I don’t even bother to hide it. There’s nothing left to hide it with. Torin draws me in without a second thought. His strong arms wrap around me, one hand pushed to the back of my head, pulling me close.
“I promise you,” he whispers into my shoulder. “We will get through this together, and she’ll be back with us, where she belongs. Us three.”
I nod at him, although I have trouble saying anything. My throat won’t cooperate. But there’s something in his voice, a catch in his confidence, and in this moment, I know he’s scared too.
Honestly, I can’t think of my life without Fawn. She’s like a piece of thread sewn into the tapestry of my life. The day feels brighter just knowing she’s there. I used to think life was simple before her. Now, it only feels like it when she’s there.
Standing here, held together by Torin’s grip and a promise that sounds doubtful, all I know for sure is this: if she’s gone for good, I don’t just lose a girl.
I lose someone who is my whole world, along with my entire future.