Page 25 of The Space Between Heartbeats
“Excuse me—sorry—I need to get through?—”
I freeze mid-step, and tighten my hand around Knox’s. He stops too, and both of us look down through the gaps in the metal stairs.
Owen is at the bottom of the first flight, trying to push past a group of teenage guys who are taking up the entire width of the staircase. His hair is messy from being in a cap all day and his face is flushed red.
“Bro, wait your turn,” one of the kids says, deliberately blocking the narrow passage.
“My girlfriend’s already up there, man. I just need to?—”
“Yeah, sure she is.” Another kid laughs, and doesn’t budge an inch. “Everyone’s got a girlfriend up there.”
The couple directly behind us clear their throat and gesture at the empty gap ahead of us.
I watch Owen’s face go from polite to frustrated until Knox tugs my hand. “Come on.”
“Knox—”
“Thorne.” He starts filling in the gap in front of us, pulling me with him. “He’s fine. You made your choice.”
He’s right. I did.
“And we can’t hold up the line.”
I sigh and follow him. A few steps up I see Owen through the grate, pushing his way through more people. He scans the line of riders, until they land on me. On us.
His eyes widen and his mouth falls slightly open. “Sawyer?”
My stomach twists.
“Sawyer!” he calls, louder now. “Wait! What are you doing?”
Knox doesn’t slow down. Neither do I.
We reach the top of the stairs and step onto the platform. The attendant gestures us forward into the line.
“Next group!” he calls out.
There are maybe ten people ahead of us. Probably one train’s worth. Below us, I hear Owen shoving past one of the teenagers. “Move. I said move!” His footsteps clang on the metal stairs, faster now. He’s taking them two at a time.
“Sawyer!” His voice cracks. “Just wait two minutes! I’m coming!”
Knox’s hand is still wrapped around mine, warm and comforting, as we shuffle forward in line. The train ahead of us is loading, people climb into rows, lap bars come down with heavy clicks. Through the metal grating of the platform, I glance down to see Owen climbing frantically. He’s close now, stumbling on a step, catching himself on the railing.
“Ma’am, sir, you’re next,” the attendant says, gesturing us forward.
My heart is hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat.
Owen bursts onto the platform, his chest heaving, his hair a mess from running. He spots us immediately and his face…God, his face breaks something inside me.
“Sawyer! What the hell? I said to wait!” He rushes toward us, but an attendant steps in front of him.
“Sir, are you with this group?”
“Yes—she’s my girlfriend—we’re supposed to be together?—”
The attendant shakes his head, but lets Owen through. “Row three,” he says to Knox and me, then points Owen toward the back. “You’re in row five, sir.”
“No, I need to be with?—”
