Page 49 of Bound By Threads
That’s all, but it’s everything.
They came.
Chapter25
Elijah
Idon’t go back to our dorm. I know I should, but I can’t bring myself to look at Roman right now. I drive around until the sun sets, then I drive to her house, parking outside just like I did the other night when I first saw her on that stage.
Only now, I’m not here to watch her dance.
I’m here because I don’t know what else to do, and the idea of being away from heraches.
She doesn’t know that I know, and the others are still clueless because I can’t bring myself to tell them something that isn’t mine to tell.
I used to get off on making Scarlett—no Lottie now, squirm. Having her on her knees for me, as she stared up at me defiantly, even when she never uttered a word, was intoxicating and slotted the broken fragments of myself back into place.
I never said a word about what I found out.
I still haven’t, but she and I need to have a conversation… soon.
She needs to know he’s gone. That I ended his pathetic life for what he did to her, and that she’s free from him. She can live her lifeforever,but I want to be part of it because the idea of living a life without her is not something I can bear.
She’s dancingunder a new name, carrying scars I’ll never be able to fully understand. And I don’t know how to fix what we broke.
I don’t even know if it’s possible, but I know one thing—she didn’t destroy us. We helped destroy her, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for watching the girl I loved bleed out in silence as I turned my head and tried to use her to fix myself.
Chapter26
Archer
We drive Lottie to the water. It's the only place she ever truly feels calm.
It’s quiet. Oscar turned off the radio as soon as we got in the car, as he took the wheel. I sit in the back with Lottie, holding her as close to me as I can. She doesn’t say a word, but she doesn’t have to. She leans against the window, the water bottle still clutched in her lap like a lifeline. I keep my eyes on the other window so she doesn’t feel watched, but I can see enough of her reflection that I see the way her fingers clench around the plastic, making it crinkle.
We’re giving her space. Not distance.
I text my mom as we pull onto the highway, letting her know that we’re taking Lottie to the beach and that we won’t be home for a while, and I have no intention of rushing her when I know she needs this.
Oscar glances at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes sliding to her like he can’t help himself, then back to me, his eyes asking a silent question.
“The beach,” I tell him. “She’ll feel safest there.”
He nods, taking the next exit. The sun’s already halfway down by the time we get there, the sky bleeding soft oranges and violet blues over the water. The beach is almost empty, just a couple walking their dog, the tide coming in lazy and slow, and the waves turning white as they hit the shore.
It’s exactly what she needs.
Oscar cuts the engine,and for a brief moment, none of us move. Then Lottie opens her door, her black trainers discarded on the floor of the car like an afterthought.
She walks barefoot over the car park's concrete and then onto the cool sand, her steps steady and slow. Oscar and I stay back, not wanting to crowd her. She doesn’t even look back at us, and I’m not surprised. The water pulls at her like it always has, but this time, it’s not to drown the pain, but it’s to release it.
I can’t bring myself to step out. Haven’t been able to since that night. The night I pulled her from the waves, soaked and not breathing. Her heartbeat came back to life under my hands, and I clench them in my lap as phantom beats pound against my palm.
I’ve seen it on a loop every time I close my eyes since then—only in the dream, I’m always too late. Unable to save her.
Lottie walks until the tide washes over her toes, and even from where we’re sitting, we can see how her shoulders drop like something inside her finally lets go.
“She’s strong. This won’t break her,”Oscar signs, his hands move slowly.
