Later, back in my cottage, still slightly damp from the shower, we wrap ourselves in towels. Sawyer combs through my long brown hair, the strands still damp. I sit cross-legged on the floor and he’s on the edge of the bed. We’ll talk eventually, but tonight it seems as if everything’s already been said and instead we listen as a storm rushes over the sleepy farming town. We hear rain pound against the rooftop and lightning crackling in the sky.

By this time, it’s nearly morning. We’ve been up all night, and I think we both plan on sleeping all day.

I relish the sensation of a strong man’s hands threading through my hair, silently taking care of me. When he finishes, he takes my hand and pulls me into bed. Our bodies are both spent from making love and I rest my head against Sawyer’s chest. His arms wrap around my body, holding me close. And I look out the window next to the bed, wishing on a star that I can’t see in the cloudy night sky.

I wish for this moment to be seared into my memory forever. A memory built on trust, a memory that means so much to my battered heart.

We fall asleep holding onto one another, our heart beating in sync, our hands held tightly together.

Later, I wake with a start, my legs kicking at tangled sheets at my ankles, my chest heaving, my mind playing tricks on me. The hazy nightmare feels all too real.

Sawyer pulls me into his arms. “Shush, it’s okay, baby. It’s okay, Sadie.” He rocks me against him as I wake from my nightmare.

My skin burns, remembering.

My lungs tighten, remembering.

My body trembles, remembering.

And I know Sawyer deserves the whole story. My nightmare’s not so easy to hide when I’ve woken in terror.

“Sweetie,” he whispers. “Tell me about your dream,” he asks tenderly. Tears rise to the surface.

I don’t want to hold back from him.

I want him in this with me.

Trust is a tricky thing … but I want Sawyer’s trust.

I want his everything.

Which means I have to give what I wish to receive.

“I’m running because I killed someone,” I whisper.

“Fuck, baby.” His hold on me refuses to slacken, in fact, it only tightens. So fucking tight. Almost too tight, like he is scared to let go.

Is he scared of me?

I reach for the sheet and wrap it around us as Sawyer leans back against the pillows, pulling me close to him. The early morning dawn creeps through the windows, and it’s as if the storm from the past night has washed through, and the new day is beckoning me, asking me to bring the past to light.

It’s scary though.

I am about to say more when I realize Sawyer is sitting up, moving away from me.

“You really killed someone?” he asks, his tone more ragged now.

I swallow. This is all wrong. Wrong of me to trust him.... He’s just going to judge me.

“I shouldn’t have told you,” I say, feeling my blood pressure rise, my worst fears confirmed. I don’t want to justify anything. I shouldn’t have to justify shit. I did what I had to do. But now I look at Sawyer, and all I see is fear.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have,” he says.

His words sting. Bite. They freaking cut.

I feel like I’m going to throw up. This is not how my confession was supposed to go.

But what did I think was going to happen? That I would tell him I’m on the run for murder and he would tell me it’s okay?

It’s not okay.

None of this is.

I pull myself out of the bed, needing fresh air. Needing to be alone.

Because, honestly, maybe I’m the only person I can trust in this world.

The only person who can handle the truth.

Maybe the only person who can handle me, is me.

I pull on a sweatshirt, some jeans and slip on flip-flops. I open the front door, my heart cracking a little when he doesn’t ask me to stop, to come back to bed.

When he doesn’t say anything at all.

I don’t turn back, can’t bear to see his face.

* * *

In the lot, past the bar, is Dusty’s house. I haven’t spent time over there, but when I step out of the cottage and see the soft pink and purple sky, I feel lonely in a way I haven’t since I came to town. So, when he waves me over to his front porch, I can’t help but sit down in a worn Adirondack chair and let him bring me a cup of hot coffee.

“You’re never up this early, Sadie. Trouble in paradise?”

I shoot him a scowl. I haven’t explicitly told him Sawyer and I are a thing, but then again, he did find us making out in his kitchen, and Sawyer has been shacking up with me for a few weeks.

“I kinda think I overshared this morning Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if we see him with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, leaving the cottage, determined to never look back.”

Dusty scoffs. “I knew you were a spitfire, but I didn’t take you for a fool.”

“Hey,” I pout, wounded by his words. “What’s that supposed to mean? Can’t you tell I’m near tears over here?”

“Tears?” Dusty eyes me carefully. He nods as if a decision has been made. “Give me your mug.”

I look at my still piping hot coffee, annoyed that a second man this morning wants me out of his sight. Still, I give it to him, not interested in being where I’m not wanted.

I make to leave, but he tells me to stay put. A minute later he returns and hands me back the coffee.

“Thanks, I think,” I say, taking a sip. I grimace. “Holy bejesus, what did you put in there?”

He smiles. “My special sauce. A little this, a little that; takes all the pain away, guaranteed.”

I eye him suspiciously. “Tastes like whiskey.”

“Pretty much.” Dusty raises his brows, then pats my knee. “Sometimes a little whiskey in the morning is what you need to take the edge off. Now tell me, what has you so upset?”

I take another sip before answering, the alcohol sliding down my throat marvelously. “I told him why I’m in Resting, so far from home. It’s not a pretty story, Dusty.”

“I don’t need the details. But I figured as much, considering you were looking for a place to disappear. What did he do when you told him?”

“He got super quiet. To tell you the truth, I think he was a little shocked.”

“Is the story shocking?”

I remember pulling my mom into the car, her body so badly beaten. I remember returning to the house, seeing the hurricane lantern on the dining room table. I remember flinging it at my step-dad, Jim.

And I remember running, watching the mobile home go up in flames.

I remember driving to the ER, dropping my mom off, all alone, and speeding away, terrified the cops would come after me.

Yes, I’d say it was shocking.

“Yeah, but if we are in a relationship, shouldn’t he try to understand?”

“Did you give him a chance to?”

I don’t answer. The fact is, I didn’t wait for an answer and I got too scared to give an explanation.

We sit in silence as we finish our coffee, and as Dusty returns with round two, the door to the cottage opens and Sawyer starts walking across the field to the parking lot, looking angry as hell.

I don’t want to fight with Sawyer.

What I really want is for him to fight for me.

“If he heads to his car, I think I’ll be sick,” I say, reaching for Dusty’s hand. I don’t know when I started looking up to this old guy, but I did.

Sawyer does exactly what I was afraid of him doing. He walks from the front door to his Chevy and gets in the driver’s seat.

My chest tightens, I feel tears run down my cheeks. When did I start crying?

“I love him,” I admit. “I hardly know him, but I love him. And now he is leaving.”

Dusty grips my hand tight. “I’ve learned a few things over the years, and Sadie, if you love that man, you better not let him go.”

He’s right.

I’ve lost everything else in my life—most of it terrible anyway—but it was mine. And I can’t lose him too.

Not when he has come to mean so much to me in such a short time.

I leap from the porch, run toward the Chevy.

Sawyer gets out of the car, looking surprised to see me there, out of breath, my hands on the hood.

“He deserved it,” I say. “Maybe that doesn’t make it better, to say the man I murdered deserved to be killed, but he broke my mom until she was a shell of the woman she once was. Maybe it was stupid for me to stay for so long, but I couldn’t bear to leave. I didn’t trust him alone with her.”

“And then what?” Sawyer asks softly.

“Then one night I came home from the laundromat where I was working. He was wild and drunk and had beaten her so badly. I’d never seen her so badly beaten before. I dragged her from the house and put her in my car and went back to get my wallet.” I’m crying, unable to look Sawyer in the face. “When I got back inside I saw a lantern on the table, the electricity was out half the time because Jim spent our money on booze. I saw the open flame and I threw it at him. Watched it catch fire to the carpet, to his boots, then I ran. As fast as I could. I ran.”

I’m shaking now, and my knees give out. I fall to the gravel parking lot, burying my face in my hands.

Sawyer comes to where I am, brushes the tangle of hair from my face while trying to see me.

He holds his breath and I feel his heart stop for a moment as he absorbs what I just admitted.

“Do you regret it?” he asks.

“The choice I made wasn’t a choice at all. I had to kill him or else my mom would never be free.”

“And that’s why you had to leave? The reason why you are scared you’ll get caught.”?”

“Yes. But now, Sawyer, I feel like I’ll always be running.” I hiccup through my tears. “I thought you were leaving me just now.”

Sawyer narrows his eyes. “Look, I know I ran once before, but Sadie I have no intention of leaving you. I know my track record is shit, but hell, I’d never leave you.”

"Weren’t you leaving just now?” I ask. He had his bag over his shoulder and was looking to go.

He runs his hands through his hair. “I was gonna go drive for awhile. Write shit down in my fucking journals. That’s all I brought. My clothes and shit are still inside.

Sawyer sits down in the gravel, looking at me. “But fuck, we can go. Let’s leave together. You and me. Let’s get in this Chevy right now. Just hit the road and never look back.”

I swallow, look down at his hand in mine. “I have unfinished business,” I tell him. “I have to take care of it before I can go anywhere.”

Sawyer’s jaw clenches. “What is it?”

“I have to find my mom and make sure she’s going to be okay. I didn’t tell her where I was going. What I was doing. She doesn’t have a job, any money. She’s all alone. I left her alone.” I start crying, unable to hold back the tears. “What sort of child leaves their mother like that?”

Sawyer shakes his head. “You did the best you could,” he tells me.

“My best wasn’t good enough.”

“Then let’s make it right. Let’s hire someone to find her. To make sure she knows you’re safe.”

“She’ll hate me for what I did.”

“Then we don’t need to tell her where you are. We can just get the information about whether or not she’s okay and to let her know that you are okay, too.”

“And then what?” I ask, already feeling relieved to have Sawyer helping me make these plans.

“Then we can go anywhere, start over.”

“Nothing is that easy, Sawyer.” I wipe my tears away with the back of my hand.

“Usually, no. It’s not. But maybe this time it is.”

“Why do you think it will be any different now?” I ask.

Sawyer cups my face with both hands. “Because this time, Sadie, we will have one another.”