Page 21 of The Quiet After The Fall

Hailey looked at me with sympathetic eyes before reaching over and squeezing Owen’s arm. I didn’t know how she could read us both so well, but somehow I knew she knew.

I watched steam curl off the surface of my coffee while the table moved on around me. My mother finished her meal and said nothing further. My father cut into his omelet with the fervor of someone who’s swallowing down the rest of what he wanted to say. Hailey kept the conversation moving, filling silences before they could calcify into something worse.

I ate my pancakes, barely tasting them before they slid down my throat.

Did Sawyer go straight into Owen’s open arms after I walked away? Was this on me? I already knew the answer. I’d handed him the opening and he’d filled it without hesitation because that’s what Owen did. He didn’t overthink. He didn’t talk himself out of things. He just did whatever the hell he wanted.

And I just...didn’t. I never did.

I pushed the last of my bacon around my plate. Owen was still talking, back to his normal tone now that he’d gotten over the hard part, and everyone just moved on like the last five minutes were no big deal. Maybe they weren’t. Maybe I was the only one sitting here feeling like I’d taken a punch to the gut.

I had no one to be pissed at but myself but I was pissed anyway, which felt on brand for me. The thing about making bad decisions is you don’t always know they’re bad when you’re making them. Last night felt like the opposite of a bad decision. Last night felt like finally doing one real thing after months of stewing in my misdirected anger. I figured there was always tomorrow to set things right. Always time to change my mind, to make it up to her if that’s what I decided.

Good fucking plan.

I drained my coffee and set the mug down with more force than I meant to.

“You need a refill?” The server appeared at my side.

“No.” I pushed back from the table. “I’m done.”

“Knox! Come on over here!”

My mother’s voice pulls me back. I drain the rest of my glass and leave it on an empty table. For the next hour, I smile and nod. Every time I want to say fuck it to the whole damn thing, Ella’s face morphs into her father’s and I remember why I’m here. Not that Moretti didn’t just remind me when we met with him the other day to discuss a new contract for the business.

Ella knows I’m trying, but she’s too smart not to notice the difference between this and actually wanting it. She’s letting me off the hook anyway. I don’t know what that says about her or what it says about me that I keep letting her.

Someone brings me another drink and I stare at the amber liquid, my mind still on that wedding brunch. On how easily I gave in. On my brother.

It’s ironic, really. Owen would have loved this shit. The flowers, the champagne, the whole spectacle. He would have had every woman at this table laughing and cooing over him in minutes. He had that thing about him, like an ease that made people feel warm and fuzzy.

I’ve never had that.

I’m sure they all wish I was more like him. Sometimes I do too.

Chapter 6

Sawyer

Why am I torturing myself by looking at pictures of Owen? This isn’t how I wanted to spend my night, but even though it’s been over a week since I saw that ring around Ella’s neck, I can’t stop trying to find changes in his expressions, in the way he looked at me, in anything. These photos and my memories are all I’ve got but now I know they’re warped and damaged. Nothing was real. Maybe nothing ever is and that’s my lesson in this life.

I should have known with Knox. I opened myself up for hurt like I had a sign on my back. Doormat here—please use her and walk away.

But Owen? How could he have done this to me?

I skip to a photo from Wonder World…from that day. It’s Ella and Owen, his arm around her, smiles on their faces. I zoom in, thinking that maybe I’m missing something in plain sight, because how could I have been so stupid?

“Dammit.” Tossing Owen’s phone aside, I flop back on my bed.

I hate that the one person I want to call is the one that hurt me the most. Knox is the only one that understands how I feel. And how the hell can he be with her knowing she cheated on him with Owen?

Does he really hate himself that much?

I’m restless, this energy inside me needing somewhere to land. I can’t look at my ceiling for hours again, waiting for sleep to come. I can’t stare at photos of Owen and Knox wallowing, in self-pity. I can’t stand in front of my refrigerator searching for something to fill the holes.

Before I make a conscious decision, I’ve changed out of my work clothes and into my black and white midi skirt with a slit up the thigh and a black tee. I take a second to knot the shirt at my waist, so a sliver of skin is showing. It’s working. Barely, but it’s something.

Some silver jewelry, platform sandals, messy bun, and a two minute makeup touch-up later and I’m ready to get out of this apartment. I don’t care where I go, but I know I need to get out of Ashford.