Page 42 of The Space Between Heartbeats
“Get some rest, son. We’ll be back in an hour.”
They leave together, and I pull in a painful breath. Watching her hang all over him, makes me sick. How could she, knowing what he’s done. But then again, maybe grief erases all sins, maybe tragedy makes you forget the unforgivable things…even if only temporarily.
I’m alone for no more than a minute before the door opens again.
Ella slips inside, quiet enough that if I wasn’t looking, I wouldn’t know she’s there. She’s still wearing the same clothes from yesterday—that white sundress that I internally sneered at the second I saw her come out of the bedroom wearing it. Now it’s rumpled and there’s a brown stain on the chest. Her face is blotchy, but it looks like she’s washed it recently from the lack of makeup.
“Hey,” she says quieter than usual. She’s hovering near the door like she’s not sure she’s allowed to be here. “I saw your parents leave. I thought...I wanted to check on you. Make sure you’re okay.”
I look at her and feel absolutely nothing.
That’s not entirely true. I feel something. Numbness, maybe. Or the distant recognition that I should feel more than I do. That I should be worried about her, or grateful she’s here, or something other than this hollow fucking exhaustion.
But Ella has never been it for me. I think deep down she knows that, even if her father never told her about the arrangement.
“I’m fine.”
Another lie in a long list of lies.
She perches on the edge of the bed, twisting her hands in her lap. “I saw your parents. They said you have a concussion. Broken ribs. Some internal bruising.” She reaches out tentatively before settling her hand over mine. It feels wrong, not like how Sawyer’s felt. “Knox, I’m so sorry…about Owen…about everything that happened.”
“Yeah…thanks.”
“I can’t believe he’s gone.” Her grip on my hand tightens. “The whole thing happened so fast. I was close by…waiting for you guys, and oh God, it was horrible.”
She wants me to comfort her. To take her in my arms and tell her it’ll be alright. I know I should but I can’t find a shit to give for her and her pain.
“Don’t. Please…just don’t talk about it.”
“I’m sorry, I just—” Her voice trembles. “I keep replaying it in my head. There was this sound, and the screaming and?—”
“Ella.” I pull my hand away from hers. “I can’t do this right now.”
She flinches, blinking down at me like I’ve spit in her face. Neither of us speak. She just wraps her arms around her chest and chews her lower lip.
What the fuck is she even still doing here? I’ve been nothing but a dick to her and she just takes it. Hell, I wish I could blurt out the truth.
I’m only with you because I have to be. Because our fathers arranged it. It’ll be over soon enough.
The bed creaks as she adjusts her position. “Your parents looked so upset. I feel so bad.”
“Yeah, well, their favorite son just died. What’d you expect?”
The bitterness in my tone makes her wince again. Good. I want her to leave. I want everyone to leave and let me rot in this bed with my guilt and my broken ribs and the memory of Sawyer’s face when I told her she meant nothing to me.
“Knox, that’s not fair. They love you too.”
I’d laugh if it didn’t fucking hurt so much to even breathe. “Sure they do.”
“They do. You know they do.”
I shake my head and stare at the stain on her dress, anything to keep from looking into her hurt eyes. God, I’m a prick, but I can’t seem to stop.
“What can I do for you?” Her hand hovers over mine for a moment, before she thinks better of it and pulls it away. “I want to help.”
“You can’t help.”
“You don’t mean that,” she says, her brow furrowed.
