Page 64 of From the Wreckage

Brielle

The cabin creaks with every groan of the old floorboards as my dad paces his bedroom, his muttered words too low for me to make out. But hearing his voice is better than his silence and disappointment, which sent me running to my room, collapsing on my bed in a flood of tears.

When the silence finally comes, I know he’s gone to bed.

But I can’t sleep. I can’t breathe. Not without Everett.

Not without answers.

I shove my feet into a pair of sneakers before sneaking downstairs to the door, opening and closing it soundlessly as I slip out.

The tears don’t stop burning tracks down my face. The night air is cool against my swollen eyes. My shoes whisper over the grass, carrying me to the one place I’m not supposed to go.

Everett’s cabin glows faintly, a single lamp in the living room. My heart stutters when I see him through the window—slouched on the couch, his elbows braced on his knees, his head in his hands.

When I push the door open, he doesn’t look up right away.

When he finally does, the sight of him wrecks me all over again.

His lip is swollen, a dark bruise blooming along his jaw where Dad’s fist landed. The blood is gone, but the mark remains, stark against his pale skin.

“Bri…” His voice is low, rough, and frayed at the edges. He shakes his head, as if he can’t believe I’m standing here. “You shouldn’t be here.”

I cross the room before I can stop myself, falling to my knees in front of him. My hands clutch at his shirt, trembling. “Say something. Please. Fight for me. For us.” My voice cracks on the plea. “Don’t let this be the end.”

His eyes close, pain twisting his features. His fists clench on his knees, knuckles turning white, like he’s holding himself together with sheer will.

“You don’t understand,” he rasps. “Your dad’s right. I should’ve stayed away from you from the start. I should’ve?—”

“No.” My voice shatters. I grab his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. The hair covering his jawline is rough under my palms, his swollen lip trembling.

“Don’t do this. Don’t you dare do this. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t care what he thinks. I love you.”

For a heartbeat, something flickers in his eyes. Something that looks like hope. Desperation. The war I know he’s been fighting since the first time he touched me.

Then it’s gone.

He grips my wrists gently but firmly, peeling my hands away. “You deserve more than me, angel. A life your father won’t hate you for. A man who won’t ruin you.”

“You won’t ruin me.” My sobs tear through the words. “You saved me. You make me whole. You?—”

“Stop.” His voice breaks, harsh and final. He pushes me back, putting space between us. “You’re young, Bri. You’ll see this for what it is one day—a mistake. A man too broken to give you what you deserve.”

“No!” I cry, lunging forward, but he rises to his feet, towering over me, shutting me out with the sheer force of his presence.

“I don’t love you the way you think I do.” His voice breaks, his shoulders slump. “If I keep you, I’ll ruin you. I can’t let that happen.”

Even as his words slice me open, I don’t believe them.

He doesn’t look at me when he continues, his voice breaking. “I can’t. It ends here.”

The silence after is worse than the words.

I stumble backward, my chest hollow, my vision swimming. My body feels foreign and empty, like he ripped something vital out of me and left me nothing in return.

He turns away, retreating down the hallway, his back a wall I can’t break through. His departure hurts more than if he’d thrown it in my face.

I wait, hoping he’ll return and take those awful words back.

One second.

Two.

Three.

But he doesn’t.

The silence remains, suffocating me with a weight I’ll never crawl out of.

That’s when I know he’s not coming after me.

The door clicks shut behind me as I leave the one place that used to feel like home.

The night air bites into my skin as I stumble across the clearing, my sobs strangled and raw.

My father thinks he’s saving me. Everett thinks he’s saving me.

But all I feel is ruined.