Chapter 17 #2
Once everyone’s finished, Emmett offers to help me with the dishes.
I haven’t seen him as much lately, especially since I’ve been turning down his invitations to join them on group rides.
The guilt tugs at me. He’s been nothing but sweet and kind from the very first day I got here, and it’s not fair to punish him for everyone else’s behavior.
We’re on the last few plates when he finally asks, “How are you doing with everything? Honest answers only.”
I roll my eyes, feigning annoyance, but Emmett could never annoy me. He’s warm and easy to be around. Handsome in a way that sneaks up on you, a very loyal golden retriever meets boy-next-door. But he’s also steady and dependable.
He’s a total catch, and I’m a little surprised he doesn’t have a girlfriend. I don’t get the impression he’s like his brother when it comes to relationships. He’d be a really great boyfriend.
I should want someone like him.
I let out a breath, rinsing the soap off a plate. “If I’m being honest…I’m not okay. But I will be.”
He nods, taking the plate from me. “I accept that answer. I’m sorry my dad invited Lane without saying anything. I don’t think he knows the whole story. If I’d known he was coming, I would’ve at least given you a heads-up.”
“It’s fine. I know I’m still going to see him around. We both live and work at the same place. I’ll get used to it. Either way, it won’t matter once I’m gone.”
“Doesn’t change what he did. You didn’t deserve any of it.”
“Maybe not,” I hum, rinsing the last plate. “But it happened. It’s over.”
He’s silent, staring out the window as he dries the same dish over and over.
“I wish I’d done more that night. I wanted to hurt him more than he hurt you.” His voice is low and darker than usual.
I take the plate from his hands, setting it aside and resting my hand lightly on his forearm. “You were exactly where you needed to be. You were there for me, right where I needed you.”
His gaze drops to where my fingers rest on his skin, then slowly climbs to meet mine. The kitchen air suddenly feels thick and warm. My heartbeat ticks up and for a second, I think maybe he could—
A throat clears behind us.
I drop my hand from Emmett’s arm and put a little more space between us.
Lane leans in the doorway, quickly slipping on a mask of calm, but his eyes reveal everything. His gaze slowly drifts between me and Emmett, and my skin heats. Like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t.
Emmett and I are just friends, but the way Lane’s looking at us makes the words stick in my throat.
His jaw flexes once, a warning, and I swear I can feel the room tighten around him.
My pulse stutters. I know he won’t lose it like that again.
I do. But still, my muscles twitch with the urge to take another step back.
“Hi, Lane,” I say, voice thin. Emmett stiffens beside me, his grip on the dish towel tight enough to bleach his knuckles. “What’s up?”
Lane’s eyes flick between us again. The smile on his lips is nothing like the ones that used to make my stomach flip. It’s cold, tight, and empty. I can’t tell if it’s because he’s hurting or because the veil has been lifted, and I no longer see him through rose-colored glasses.
“Can we talk?”
Emmett tosses the dish towel on the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. He’s clearly asserting his dominance, and I’m caught in the middle of this whole display.
“Oh…Um, yeah, I guess so,” I say, trying to diffuse the tension. “What about?”
Lane looks at Emmett, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “I was sort of hoping we could talk alone.”
“Oh.” Shit.
I hesitate. The sensible voice in my head says no. Absolutely not. Nothing good ever comes from reopening old wounds. But another part of me—a reckless, restless part—wants to hear him out.
“Five minutes,” he says, softer now. “If you ask me to never bother you again, I’ll honor it.”
That softer tone gets to me. For a moment, I see a glimpse of the Lane I knew—or at least thought I knew.
“Five minutes?” I ask, and he nods. “Okay.” I pat Emmett’s arm in silent reassurance before following Lane out onto the porch. The chill in the air doesn’t help my trembling hands.
“You with him now?” Lane’s voice is rough and his eyes are just a shade too glassy, his focus snagging on me a second too late.
“What? No. Not that it’s any of your business, but no.” I hesitate by the door, immediately regretting coming out here.
“I’m sorry. That’s not how I wanted to start this. Do you want to sit?” he asks, pointing to the rocking chairs overlooking the scenic landscape.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Yeah, okay.” He clears his throat. “I, uh—I know you said there’s nothing left to say, but I would still like to apologize for everything.
I’ve been going to meetings in town and part of recovery is taking accountability.
I’m not…proud of my behavior that night.
Or the things I said to you.” His voice is brittle and raw.
“What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry for the hurt I’ve caused. In the beginning, I wanted to blame Wes and the guys for pressuring me to drink, but I know I’m the one responsible for my decision and the consequences.”
I can’t tell him it’s okay—it’s not. Two weeks is not enough time to heal this wound.
“Thank you for apologizing,” I say instead. Because I am thankful he’s owning up to it—but it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t make it hurt less.
Blinking away the tears welling in my eyes, I force myself to look away, focusing all of my attention on the horizon and the wildflowers peeking through in the distance.
“Can I ask you something?” My voice is quiet as I turn back around to face him. He’s leaning against the wooden support beam.
“Of course. Always.”
“What made you say what you did? About Wesley?”
I’ve heard the saying, “a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts,” and I can’t help but wonder if there was any truth behind his words that night.
Lane scoffs. “You’re joking, right?”
“Why would I be joking right now?”
He drags his hand down his mouth and laughs humorlessly. “Wow, you really don’t know, do you?”
“Obviously not. Enlighten me.” I can’t hide the annoyance in my voice. I’m so tired of everyone tiptoeing around what they want to say.
“Oh, come on, Sadie. He’s in love with you.”
The hysterical laugh that erupts out of me is uncontrollable. Evidently Lane has lost his mind if he thinks Wesley feels anything even close to love for me. I don’t think Wesley is even capable of feeling something that deeply.
I catch my breath and look back up at Lane. His arms are now crossed over his chest and his face is unamused.
“You cannot be serious.”
I’m smiling because apparently that’s what I do now in incredulous situations.
“As a heart attack.”
I roll my eyes. I always thought that expression was stupid, and I’ve already reached my limit with this entire conversation.
“Lane, I want you to hear me, really hear me when I say this. There is nothing going on between Wesley and me. Nothing, okay?”
He shakes his head, raising his voice. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The way you look at him. You guys were practically eye fucking that night—” He cuts himself off, jaw tight.
“That is ridiculous. Do you hear yourself right now? You just asked if I was with Emmett, and now, all of a sudden, Wesley is in love with me? You’re actually delusional.”
I turn for the door but his arm shoots out, blocking it. The porch shrinks, becoming suffocatingly smaller.
“Lane—please don’t.”
His eyes search mine, desperate and frustrated all at once. “You were mine. He ruined us.”
My breath catches, not from fear exactly, but from the weight of the past pressing in. “You ruined us, Lane. Nobody poured whiskey down your throat. You broke us all on your own.”
He flinches, gaze darting away. For a moment, I think he’s going to say something else, something cruel—but instead he exhales slowly, slumping his shoulders as he backs off.
“I know.”
The porch door bursts open.
Emmett’s the first one through, Wesley right behind him. They’re both tense, like they’ve been waiting to intervene.
They step between Lane and I without a word, like a silent human shield. The space they fill feels like oxygen rushing into a room that’s been closed for too long. My lungs finally unlock.
Lane stiffens, taking another step back. And I…I can finally breathe, even if it hurts.
I drag in a shaky breath as one tear escapes, tracking hot down my cheek. Humiliating. “I want you to leave me alone,” I manage, my voice raw.
Lane flinches, like the words hit straight into his core. His eyes are glassy and red-rimmed.
I swallow hard. “Not forever,” I add, softer this time. “Just for now. I need space. Time.” My throat tightens around the words, but I push them through. “You said you’d honor it if I asked. So I’m asking.”
For a second, I think he might fight it. His lips part like he wants to explain, to promise something different. But then he closes them again, jaw trembling once before he nods.
“Okay.” It’s barely a sound. A word that breaks apart as soon as it leaves him.
He steps back, careful, like he’s afraid the porch might splinter beneath him. Every creak of the wood sounds louder than it should. He doesn’t look at Wesley. Doesn’t look at Emmett. Just me.
One last look, and then he turns, heading down the steps into the dark.
His truck stays where it is, untouched and abandoned like everything else between us.
The silence that follows is a living thing. Heavy. Cruel. It presses down until I realize I’m shaking.
The breath I’ve been holding stutters out of me, and suddenly I’m crying—quiet, ugly, and uncontrollable.
Wesley moves closer, his shadow falling over mine. I can feel his hand hover near my shoulder, but it doesn’t land, like he knows I might break if he touches me. Emmett says my name, low and careful, but it only makes the ache sharper.
I shake my head. “Please,” I whisper, the word tearing through my throat. “Just…don’t. Not right now.”
Wesley clears his throat. Emmett steps back. And I stand there—arms wrapped around myself, like that might hold me together.
Lane’s gone. The night is still. And for the first time, I let myself feel the truth of it.
This feels like the end.