16. Sawyer #3
Swiping back to the home screen, I see his messages app flooded with notifications. So many unopened texts. My stomach starts to churn. Something about seeing them feels different from the social media notifications, so much harder to look at somehow.
Maybe because I know if I open them, I’ll see Owen’s words. And not some overly curated Instagram captions he wrote to be witty, but his real unfiltered conversations.
My fingers move of their own accord, my stomach twisting in knots.
The most recent message before the accident was from Ella. That’s right. He was texting with her before the ride.
I tap on her name and the thread opens.
Ella: We need to talk.
Ella: Meet me by the bathrooms.
Owen: Later.
Ella: Now, Owen. A ring…Why didn’t you tell me?
Owen: It doesn’t have anything to do with you
Ella: Does she know?
I check the timestamp. Ten minutes went by before Owen responded.
Owen: No.
Ella: We need to tell her…Tell both of them.
Owen: Absolutely not.
Owen: Just stay where you are, I’ll be there in a sec.
My heart pounds as I read the exchange again.
Does she know? Does who know? Me? Know what?
We need to tell her…Tell both of them.
Both of them. Me and Knox.
I scroll up, hands shaking, looking for more context, but their messages are only about logistics for the trip and a selfie of her and Knox in the car with the caption, see you soon!
Any other conversations must have gotten deleted.
I stare at the screen until my eyes blur, trying to piece together what I’m missing. What secret is buried in the words unsaid…in the messages that aren’t here anymore.
Does she know?
We need to tell her…Tell both of them.
Tell us what?
My mind spins back to that day, searching for clues I missed.
It’s all fuzzy now, the accident clouding anything that happened earlier.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Owen and Ella were friendly as usual, like normal family friends.
Or was there more that I didn’t notice since I was so wrapped up in how Knox made me feel?
Ella seemed excited for the family dinner that evening. Supportive, even.
But what if she wasn’t?
What if she knew about the ring and it wasn’t excitement on her face? What if it was panic?
The phone almost slips from my trembling hands.
I grip it tighter, scrolling back up through their messages, looking for anything else.
But there’s nothing. It’s all surface level friendly texts about meeting times and costs of tickets.
There’s nothing that explains why Ella would need to tell me something.
Nothing that explains what Owen was hiding.
I set Owen’s phone down on the counter and grab my own from my pocket, pulling up my messages with Ella. Our last conversation was from Saturday morning, her texting about being excited for Wonder World.
Before that, there’s some normal friendly stuff.
Plans to get coffee that never happened.
A funny TikTok she sent me. We’ve never been close, but cordial enough that family events weren’t any more awkward than they needed to be since she started dating Knox.
As much as it stung to see Knox with a girlfriend, it was nice to have someone outside the Aldrich family to talk to when I was there.
There’s absolutely nothing suspicious or off about our messages.
I shove the half-eaten Oreo in my mouth and hover my thumbs over the keyboard. Staring at Ella’s name.
Me: We need to talk.
I type it out, stare at it while chewing, then delete it.
Me: What did Owen need to tell me?
Delete.
Me: I saw the texts. What secrets were you two keeping?
Delete.
Dammit, this is a mess. I shouldn’t do this over text…send something I can’t take back when I don’t even know what I’m accusing her of.
But the questions are eating me alive.
I lock my phone and grab a few chips, letting their salty flavor sit on my tongue. It calms my racing heart.
Maybe this whole thing is nothing. Maybe I’m reading too much into messages that have a perfectly innocent explanation.
Maybe Ella has a good reason for being upset that Owen didn’t tell her about the ring first, and she was just surprised, and I’m losing my mind over nothing because I’m grieving and exhausted and looking for something—anything—to make sense of the chaos.
But the voice in my head won’t shut up.
I grab paper towels and wipe down the counter before tossing away the evidence of my breakdown before Mom wakes up and asks questions.
When the kitchen is clean again, I grab Owen’s phone and pad back to my room, closing the door quietly behind me.
The ring box is still on my bed where I left it. I toss his phone next to it and lay down facing the opposite direction, pulling the blanket up to my chin.
Soon, I’ll have to stand next to Ella and the rest of the Aldrich’s while I say goodbye to my best friend, to the man I loved, even if it wasn’t in the way he deserved.
I’ll need to pretend to have my shit together when I know I won’t let this go. Not until I talk to Ella. To find out what they were hiding from us.
Whatever it is, it was bad enough that Ella wanted to come clean and Owen wanted it buried. Even if it meant marrying me with lies between us.