Page 64 of Beautiful Ruins

The lights in Rowan’s house were still off, the entire place swallowed in the same silence that used to devour me whole. I knew that silence, that emptiness—it haunted me for years. At that moment, I was the same kid chasing any scrap of his attention, ignoring the way his absence always loomed larger than his presence.

My phone rang out, its shrill tone cutting through the static in my head. Jasmine’s name flashed up on the screen, and I smiled, despite the tension in my body, and jabbed at the answer button.

I placed the phone to my ear. “Hey Ja?—”

“Sadie.” She cut me off, her voice high-pitched and on edge. “You need to get to theclubhouse.”

The world around me halted, the air gone, my heart a wild thing trying to escape my chest.

“What?” My voice was too loud in the quiet room, desperate and raw. “Why? What the hell happened?”

Jasmine sobbed, every breath muffled. “It’s Rowan. He’s been shot, Sades. You need to come quick.”

A flurry of voices could be heard in the background, a terrible soundtrack to her fear. The phone went dead. Either Jasmine had hung up, or I had. I wasn’t entirely sure. I stared at the screen for a long minute. If I stared at it long enough, maybe Jasmine would have called back to tell me it was all some big fucking joke.

My mind replayed her words.

Rowan had been shot.

Rowan had been shot.

Fuck! Rowan had been shot.

Her voice had been nothing but raw panic, frayed at the edges with something close to finality. A finality that brought me back to the reason I’d run from this town. All I could see behind my eyelids was Logan hanging from his ceiling fan.

Was this going to be another one of those times when I lost a man I loved?

My hands trembled. My heart slammed against my ribcage like it was trying to punch its way out. It was a ruthless, unstoppable thing as it crashed through every barrier I put up to control it. I couldn’t lose Rowan. Not for good. I wouldn’t survive it.

My brain finally kicked into gear, and I darted out of my room, down the stairs, and jumped into my car parked in the driveway. I needed to get to the clubhouse. I needed to get tohimbefore it was too late.

I barely remembered how I got there. Headlights streaked past like ghosts. My grip on the wheel was too tight, slick withsweat. My mind spun in frantic circles, each thread pulling tighter than the last.

Everything felt so damn familiar, like I’d done it a thousand times before. After my mum, after Logan, after every single goodbye that came way too soon. This couldn’t be another time I was too late. It just couldn’t.

I swiped at my tears and came to an abrupt stop in the parking lot of the club, tyres screeching.

Before I’d even cut the engine, I was shoving my door open. My hands trembled as I snatched the keys from the ignition and darted inside, leaving everything behind—including my sanity. My phone hit the ground somewhere behind me, but I didn’t stop to pick it up or even look back.

The clubhouse was eerily quiet, like the calm before a storm. It pressed down on me, a heavy weight that made it hard to breathe. My gaze darted around the empty bar room, my breaths coming shallow and fast. The room was dark but tinged with red from the EXIT sign, the shadows stretching like veins of blood across the floor.

Oh god. What if I was too late? What if . . .

Jasmine raced towards me, closing the distance fast. Her face was blotchy, her eyes swollen and red as tears streamed down her face. She slammed into me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

“They’re—he’s—Sades, I can’t, oh god. It’s really bad.” That’s all she could say, her voice breaking.

I could almost physically feel the snap of it.

A muffled scream splintered the silence. It came from somewhere at the back of the clubhouse—deep and full of pain. I knew it all too well.

Rowan.

Jasmine sobbed into my hair, her entire body trembling.

I gripped onto her with everything I had. “Where is he?” It was all I could say. All I could think of.

If this was the last time I’d ever see him, I was going to tell him I loved him, that I’d loved him since I was thirteen years old. That I never stopped loving him and I didn’t want to pretend with him—I wanted to feel everything with him for real.