15. Knox #3
“I knew about the ring, you know that.” I say, my body feeling like an inferno the more truth I let slip.
“He showed it to me at the restaurant. Asked me what I thought. If you’d like it.
” I let out a bitter laugh. “And I sat there and told him it was perfect while wishing I could throw it in the fucking lake.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I wanted you on that ride next to me. I wanted—” I stop myself before I say too much. “And then the ride malfunctioned and he died and I got exactly what I wanted. So if anyone’s a terrible person here, it’s me.”
“That’s not…You didn’t cause the accident—”
“Neither did you.” I cup her face with both hands, forcing her to look at me. “The ride malfunctioned. That’s it. That’s all this is. You didn’t kill him. I didn’t kill him. It just...happened.”
As my words float out into the air I know I don’t believe them. I’ll never fully let myself off the hook.
She’s silent taking them in, still crying, still shaking. Then she speaks so quietly I almost don't hear her. “Maybe we’re both to blame.”
The words hang between us thick, like I could reach out and touch them.
“Maybe,” I whisper.
“I wanted to be with you too. On the ride.” My eyes focus on the way she rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. “After it…always.” Fresh tears spill down her cheeks. “What does that make me?”
My heart races. “It makes you human.”
“That’s not good enough.”
I rub my thumb across her bottom lip. “But it’s true.”
She’s so close, her warm breath shakes out against my face. I can see every tear caught in her thick lashes, can smell laundry detergent on the hoodie she’s wearing mixed with her shampoo underneath.
“Knox,” she whispers and it feels like she’s reached into my chest and squeezed tight enough to stop my heart. I shouldn’t move closer. I know there’s nothing but destruction for both of us. But fuck, I want to cross that line more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
I glance at the engagement ring, still clutched in her fist.
But neither of us moves away.
“We shouldn’t,” I say, as my thumbs stroke her cheeks, wiping away tears. I know I sound like I’m trying to convince myself more than her.
“I know.”
“This is wrong.”
“I know.”
“Sawyer,” I breathe.
Her free hand pulls at the nape of my neck, bringing me closer. With her chest pressed against me I can feel her heart pounding. Or maybe that’s mine. I can’t tell where I end and she begins anymore.
“Just once,” she murmurs. “Just this once and then never again.”
It’s a lie. We both know it.
I don’t know who moves first, but suddenly our lips crash together, the ring box falling to the ground, and nothing’s ever felt so right.
Her fingers thread through my hair, tugging me closer, and a low groan escapes my throat. I needed this. Needed her. The kind of need that’s been building for so long, I forgot what I felt like before it began.
She scrambles onto my lap and I slip my hands under her sweatshirt, wrapping my palms around her soft waist. She feels so fucking perfect. I slide my tongue against hers, and she moans into my mouth.
Fuck. I’m going to crack open, or melt, or burn into ash.
She tastes so damn good, feels like she was made for me.
Because she was.
I’d let her take a sledgehammer to every wall I’ve built if only I get to hear her moan my name like this again.
She pulls back for a second, breathing hard, while my lips move along her jaw, savoring the taste of her skin.
My eyes glance down and it’s like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. The velvet box is right there, staring back at me from the concrete.
We both seem to remember at the same time—where we are, what we came for, who’s missing—and we jolt apart like we’ve been shaken awake. Her chest heaves, and her eyes are hooded as she stares at me. I already want to pull her back, my body screaming in protest at the loss of her warmth.
But it’s over.
The moment passed and I don’t know if I’ll ever get her back that way. Not that I deserve to.
She clears her throat and climbs off me, reaching down to grab the ring box. “We should go.”
“Yeah.”
Her eyes won’t even meet mine and I fucking hate it. I hate that what just happened was wrong. But it was and the guilt is already starting to gnaw at my chest.
She grabs the rest of Owen’s things, putting them into her purse. Staring at the spot on the ground where our bodies just were, she says my name.
“Yeah?”
“This can’t happen again.”
She’s right, of course she is, but hearing those words from her lips still feels like a knife to the gut.
“I know.”
She finally looks at me and her breath hitches. Her eyes are lined in moisture, and her lips are pressed together so hard they’ve gone white. The raw pain from her makes it hard to take in a full breath.
“I mean it. Never again.”
“I know, Thorne.”
She flinches at the nickname, and I feel even more like a dick. But it’s too late. She’s already walking back toward the caution tape without waiting to see if I’ll follow.
I watch her go, clutching my brother’s engagement ring in her fist, and wonder how the fuck I’m supposed to stay away from her now.