Page 104 of Beautiful Ruins
Rowan’s next words came out in a rush. “Fuck. Okay. I need you to tell him you left something at my house. Say it like you mean it. Tell him you’ll be back in ten minutes. Can you do that?”
My eyes burned, and I blinked rapidly, blurriness overtaking my vision again. “What? Why?”
Rowan exhaled, like he was forcibly pressing all the air out of his lungs so there’d be no room for any lies. “Goddamn it, Sadie, just do as you’re told, for once in your life. We don’t have time to argue.”
“Can’t we just talk about it later? This is import?—”
“Your father killed your mother, Sadie.” His voice sliced through mine, shaking. “Get the fuck out of there right now.”
It took a moment for the words to register. And then they slammed into me, gravity flipping sideways and dragging my stomach with it.
The walls closed in, my throat tightening. All the colour and sound drained out of the room at once, the worldsuddenly black and white and under water. The only noise was my heartbeat drumming in my ears.
My father sat there, unmoving. Blank-eyed. Familiar in every way that no longer felt safe.
“Wh-what?” I whispered.
“Please, baby,” Rowan choked out, the words muffled. “Just tell him you’ll be back. I’m on my way.”
“Okay, Ro. I’ll see you soon.” My words were steady, or at least I aimed for steady, but I couldn’t help the tremble at the edge of the next words. “I love you.”
“Sadie—”
I hung up and placed my phone carefully on the table, keeping my movement slow and steady. The silence in the room was so sharp, it sliced an actual ache into my jaw. I stared at the glass of water on the table, circling my thumb over the lip to keep from shaking.
My father had killed my mother. Rowan had said those words. He wouldn’t lie. Not about something like that. Not him. Not after everything.
I glanced up and stared directly into my father’s face. He hadn’t moved except to blink, slow and measured, like he was waiting for the next move on a chessboard he’d been playing alone for years. My stomach tightened and wouldn’t let go.
“Everything okay?” Dad said, lifting his beer to his lips.
I stood, dizziness taking over for a split second. “Yeah . . . it’s fine.” I squeezed my eyes shut to stop the swaying sensation, pressing my palms against the dining table. “Rowan will be here soon. Listen, I forgot some folders back at his house, ones I think you’ll want to see. I’m just going to duck over there and grab them really quick.”
Dad pushed up from the worn-out chair, the wooden legs squealing over the old linoleum. “I’m afraid I can’t let you dothat. You’ll understand soon. Just stay, Sades. Please.” His voice was steady, but there was a slight urgency in his tone.
A chill raced over me, and I stumbled. “What?” I blinked rapidly. My eyesight blurred into a smudged outline of my childhood kitchen, the edges of the room leaking like blood through water. “Why? I just need—whoa.”
My knees buckled and my head swam. I reached for the wall but stumbled sideways, my hand dragging uselessly along the cream-coloured paint, slick with sweat or fear. Probably both. The scratched kitchen table felt miles away, the room shrinking around me. Something wasn’t right.
“Dad, I don’t feel so good.” My gaze flicked to the water glass. “What did you—” Ice melted in the bottom. The lemon slice sat there, hopeless. I couldn’t feel my legs. “Oh god. You drugged me.”
He stepped closer, his expression a mix of determination and desperation, but as I tried to push past him my legs wouldn’t move. They were heavy and unresponsive, as if I was wearing concrete boots.
“It was the only way to draw him out,” Dad said, his eyes pleading with me to understand. “But I’m going to fix everything, Sades. I promise. You just have to trust me.”
“Draw who out?” My muscles weakened further, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, my words barely forming coherent sentences as I struggled to stay upright. “Dad, what . . .”
Darkness surged over me like a thick blanket, enveloping my senses. I staggered again. Hands gripped my shoulders. I blinked. Again. Nothing but blurred images danced in front of my face.
Then one came into view, as clear as the image of Logan’s body that had burned itself into my memory.
My dad’s face, etched with worry.
I collapsed into his arms, the world fading to black.
Chapter Thirty-Four
ROWAN
