Page 129 of When We Fall: Part Two

“E,” Enzo said, his dark eyes wavering as a heavy fog filled my head.

“I fucked her to save him,” I whispered, my voice so low I wasn’t even sure they could hear it. “I failed. I failed. The underground. I fucked her. Everett… Don’t touch me. Please…”

I faded away, the room growing smaller until there was nothing left.

Nothing but my nightmares.

FORTY-ONE

COLE

Ewas refusing to return home. It took two days of trying to convince him before he finally gave in.

Two days of only hearing about Rosalie’s condition through texts from my brother.

Colten told me I was a prick and needed to come home. He said Dominic De Santis wouldn’t leave her side.

That he was sleeping in her bed with her.

I hated it. Fuck, I hated it.

I liked Dom, but I wanted nothing more than to return home and rip his fucking head off for being so close to her. I was OK with one night, but several? No.

Understanding wasn’t beyond me, though. I knew he was trying to help. He had, after all, been through this shit with Bianca. Except she’d been alive, and Fox was dead.

I knew he was, as I stared down at his obituary posted online. They were doing a candlelight vigil for him at Mayfair. The entire fucking state was mourning him.

As they should. He was a good man, and we’d failed him.

Enzo barely spoke. He also refused to go home. He spent his time beating up anyone connected to Everett Church. He wantedhim alive, and no one was fucking talking. He couldn’t find Dante Church either.

Everyone simply vanished.

Up in smoke, so to speak.

“Do you need help?” I asked E as he slowly dressed himself in a t-shirt and sweatpants.

“No,” he mumbled.

He wouldn’t let anyone touch him. He was completely withdrawn, but we’d heard his words when the doc knocked him out with meds.

The underground. He’d fucked her. Everett had fucked him. He ate food he didn’t want. Drugs. Rabbits. Knives. Candy. Sugar. Sharp. Sharp. Sharp.

We didn’t know if they were true or if he was just losing his mind because he babbled a lot of incoherent shit during his stay here.

I went over to him as he struggled with his pants. I reached out to help him, but he jerked away.

“Don’t touch me!” he screamed, recoiling from me. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

I held my hands up. “I’m only trying to help.”

“I-I don’t need help. Please. Just don’t…” He blinked back tears rapidly, his poor face still busted and bruised. At least his eyelids weren’t so swollen anymore.

Enzo had left because the saints brought in a tip that Dante Church had been spotted near the underground, which was now so far fucked from the fire that there was no way it was salvageable.

“I’m sorry,” I said weakly. “E, man. I want to help you.”

“You can’t fucking help me,” he muttered, sniffling. “Unless you can turn back time, I’d say I’m pretty well screwed.” He paused and looked over at me, tears streaking down his bruised cheeks. “It should have been me. Not Fox. Not fucking Fox.”