Chapter Forty-Five – Fawn
I don’t want to hurt them.
Leaving them behind is like being lacerated with barbed wire — a jagged tearing slowly killing me. I’m a coward, I know it. Writing a letter was the easy way out; not looking them in the face, not hearing Dylan call out my name or feeling the reassuring hand of Torin on my waist.
The thing is, I would have broken. I would have told them the truth, and everything would have come crashing down.
This is for them. This is for Grandpa.
And now, I’m here. The one place I swore I’d never return.
The outdated motel on the outskirts of Ivywood, where I stayed when I was homeless — bad memories linger.
The walls are off cream, marred by the marks of time and abandonment, the corners veiled in darkness by the accumulation of other people’s pain.
The air is thick with the smell of old carpet and a poor cleaning solution that never worked to begin with.
With the curtains drawn, I lie on the bed without even taking off my shoes. The ugly floral comforter is coarse against my skin, but I’m too exhausted to care. I curl up with my knees to my chest and breathe shallowly.
The sobs hit me hard, all ragged and ugly, shaking my whole body. I cling to the one thing in this place that makes it barely livable: the necklace. My hands shake as I open it.
There we are, the three of us caught up in a moment which seemed so simple, so warm, so full of promise.
My heart thrums heavily; it aches. Pressing the necklace to my chest, I tell myself this pain has a purpose.
I’d rather hurt than feel nothing at all.
My phone is on the side table, its light cutting through the darkness like a pulse.
I don’t even need to grab the thing to know who’s blowing it up.
Turning my face to the wall, I squeeze my eyes shut.
I can’t.
I won’t read the texts. I’ll break if I do.
Their voices are already echoing inside my brain, tangled up with all the other ones. Coach. Jason. Harper. The whispers that have been inside me all along.
You don’t belong.
You’re nothing.
They deserve better than you.
My throat constricts as that thought latches on, heavy, all too familiar. They were always right. I was never enough for Dylan or Torin — just a fleeting moment until they carry on with the life they truly deserve.
I’ll visit my grandpa once I’m strong enough, when I can walk into that room without falling apart. He deserves my smile, not this broken, empty shell.
And after that . . . I’ll return home. I’ll wait until Delilah’s back, and fuck, I need her right now.
I need her wise words and hard truths, the way she always seems to sense exactly what I need to hear.
But she’s happy in Texas, basking in the warmth with Cal.
If I called her, she would be on the next flight home. I can’t do that to her.
So, I lay here, the phone constantly buzzing, the silence consuming me whole. I remind myself that being alone is the price I must pay in order to love those I was never supposed to.