Beautiful and Broken (23 page)

Crash!

A scream echoes through the house.
 

Mia and I stare at each other for a split second before we jump from our seats and run for the stairs. I bound down them and head for the dining room. Jason is on the floor, completely out. His mother is on the floor beside him, tapping his face.

Sawyer stands tall, his hands in tight fists.

Calvin is screaming at Sawyer, telling him he’s going to jail. My father's trying to calm him down. But I barely hear what anyone is saying; their voices are like running water, background noise.
 

“Sawyer?” I say.

His eyes meet mine. He looks at me like he wants to hurt me too, like he hates me. No one has ever looked at me before with so much focused hatred, and it makes me take a step back.
 

“You can fucking have each other,” he says. He storms out, leaving me standing there, helpless, confused, and paralyzed.

Eighteen

“WHERE DO YOU think you’re going?” My mother gets in my way as I try to walk out the front door. “It’s Thanksgiving, and you need to be with your family.”

“I
need
to be with Sawyer.”

“Look what that animal just did! The ambulance is on its way. You stay right here, young lady. Don’t you care that Jason is laying out cold on the dining room floor?” She points her finger at him, and shakes her hand up and down, trying to punctuate her point. “Doesn't that matter to you at all?”

“It does, Mom, but what happened? What did Jason say to him? I’m not entirely sure he didn’t deserve it.”

My mother raises her hand and slaps me hard across the cheek. My head rotates to the side and I cover my burning flesh. It hurts, but not as much as the sting of my mother taking Jason’s side—again.
 

“Oh, that’s right. Get good and offended. Fine, hate me. But this boy will ruin your life. Mark my word.” Mom steps aside and walks into the living room, leaving me in the foyer with tears in my eyes.
 

Mia clutches my arm. “Go. I’ll call you if there’s any permanent damage.”

When I open the door, I see Sawyer peeling away. “Mia,” I call out. “I need your keys.”

***

I hear sirens as I speed down Melody Lane. The ambulance. Good. Jason will be fine. I almost come to a full stop when I see Sawyer’s jeep pulled over and a cop at his window with a gun pulled on him. I pull over to the side of the road and jump out.
 

“No, stop, please!”

Another cop on the opposite side of the car comes into view. His weapon is also drawn. “Get back in your car, Miss.”

“No, there’s a mistake. Please. You can’t take him!”

Sawyer steps out of the vehicle with his hands raised. He turns around and the cop on his side of the car holsters his weapon and pulls handcuffs out of his pocket. He slaps them on Sawyer and I feel sick.
 

Before they put him in the cop car, he shouts, “Call my lawyer.”

I’m numb, but I manage to nod. Tears catch in my lower lids and slowly, they fall down my cheeks, stinging the flesh my mother just slapped. I dig down deep and find the strength, pulling out my phone and searching through my purse for that stupid business card his lawyer gave me. It seems like forever ago. How could I have known back then that I would be standing on the edge of the road under a street lamp, my heart breaking as Sawyer Davis drives away in a police car?
 

I hop into my car and frantically search through my purse, pulling out my phone, lipstick, and some random receipts. When I can’t find it, I turn my purse over and shake it. Aha! It falls onto the floor and I snatch it up, dialing his lawyer’s phone number quicker than I could snap my fingers.
 

With each ring, my heart is racing. “Come on, come on. Pick up. Please.”

“Crane, Dunlop and Associates,” says a woman with a nasal voice.

“Dane Thomas, please. It’s an emergency.”
 

“This is a criminal law office. All of our calls are usually emergencies.”

Really? Sarcasm? What kind of business are they running? “Please!”

“One moment.”
 

I tap the steering wheel as elevator rock music plays in my ear. I’m sitting here waiting while Sawyer is in handcuffs. It doesn’t seem fair. Oh my God.

“Dane Thomas.”

“Mr. Thomas. This is Molly Denton. We met when I was in the hospital. You tried to—“

“Ah, yes. Molly. I remember you.” I hear a quiet squeak as if he’s sat back in his chair. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s Sawyer. He’s been arrested.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know. I’m in Furlow, just outside the city. He was picked up here. I imagine he'd be taken to their lockup and not the one in the city.”

“Alright. What are the charges?”

“I’m assuming assault. He knocked out my ex-fiancé at Thanksgiving dinner.”

“What?” Pause. “Never mind. I’ll see you there.”

***

Furlow Police Station is modest, a single story brick building with white shutters. It would almost look like a house if it wasn’t for the bars on the inside of the windows and the massive white sign outside that reads,
Furlow Police, keeping you and yours safe.

The parking lot is almost full but I manage to find a spot around back. My phone rings and my mother’s name comes up, but I refuse to answer, muting it instead before jogging into the police station. Inside, a plexiglass wall separates the waiting room from a uniformed cop standing behind a waist-high desk. Tiny holes in the glass allow him to talk with me.
 

“Sawyer Davis? I’m here to see Sawyer Davis.”

He raises an eyebrow at me. I recognize him from somewhere but I can’t say where.

“You Mitchell’s kid?”

“Yes! I am,” I say, smiling, hoping the name-drop might get me what I want. It doesn’t hurt to have a lawyer father in a situation like this.
 

“Can’t help you.” He looks down at his papers.
 

“What? Why?”

“He only wants to see his lawyer. No visitors.”

I take a step back, feeling like I’ve been slapped. Again. Sawyer punches Jason and now he won’t see me. What the hell is going on? We were fine. Everything was fine, but I left him for five minutes and everything changed. Jason. He said something to Sawyer to set him off.
 

The cop looks up and points to the door. “Have a nice day.”

“I’ll wait.” I force a smile and walk over to the coffee machine on the far wall. It tastes like ass and smells like it too, but the caffeine helps. So does the package of M&Ms, the can of Cola and the Fruity Nut Bar I eat.
 

Within an hour Mr. Thomas is here, looking all official in his suit and matching briefcase. He nods to me. “He’s here?”

“Yes. But he won’t see me. I don’t understand. We were fine until he hit Jason and I don’t know what I’ve done. What Jason said to set him off.” I wipe away tears and take a deep breath.
 

Mr. Thomas places his hands on my shoulders and looks into my eyes. “Calm down, Molly. I’ll talk to him and we’ll get this sorted out.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“Wait here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Two more Fruity Nut bars later and another can of cola, and I’m wired and chewing on my nails. The caffeine I’ve consumed in the last hour is enough to make me feel like I’m on drugs and the cop at the desk is starting to look at me funny. Maybe it’s because I’m talking to myself. Or maybe it’s because I have a pile of wrappers on the seat beside me, since I can’t find a garbage bin.
 

Mr. Thomas walks through the door beside the counter and he looks frustrated. He shakes his head as he approaches me. “Come on. We’ll talk outside.”

I nod and follow him.
 

“Where’s your car?” he asks.
 

“I’m not leaving without Sawyer.”

He clears his throat and his eyes are steady on mine. “He doesn’t want to see you, and I’m afraid when he gets like this, it’s best to walk away.”

“You talk like you really know him.”

He sighs. “I’ve known him since he was a kid. I was his lawyer when he got into some trouble in high school.”

“The murder?”

He stills and looks at me curiously. “He told you about that?”

“No. My mother did. I mean, I asked him about it and he wouldn’t give me any details.”

“Well, I won’t either.” He scratches at his chin. “Give him some time, Molly. You’ll get nowhere with him right now. I can’t get anywhere with him either.”

I shove my hands in my pockets. “My family said something to him. I know it. Or my ex did. They’re all so intent on my getting back with my ex—a man who cheated on me.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with Jason Mathews.”

“I’m sorry?” What does that mean? Was he aware my ex cheated on me too?
 

“Can you tell me your side of what happened? I can’t really rely on Sawyer right now. He’s too far gone. When his anger creeps in like this, he shuts down.”

“I heard some chaos downstairs. I was in my bedroom talking with my sister. When I came down, Jason was unconscious on the floor and Sawyer was standing over him. Jason’s dad was yelling something about a lawsuit. Sawyer took off and I followed him. He got pulled over and I got out of my car to try and clear things up, but all he’d say was to call you.”

“So he definitely did hit Jason.”

“Knocked him unconscious, apparently.”

“Well, if I were you, I would be talking with Jason to see if you can get him to get the DA to drop the charges. Otherwise, with Sawyer’s record, he might be going to jail for real this time.”

Hot tears clung to my lashes and I try to blink them away. I clutch at my stomach, wishing the sick feeling would go away. I promised myself I wouldn’t go through the pain I felt with Jason, but after a few weeks with Sawyer, I feel like the pain is worse. I can’t stop myself for feeling so much for him and it kills me.
 

“I’ll do whatever I can.” And I will, but convincing Jason won’t be easy. In fact it will take a miracle.

Nineteen

CHARLIE IS IN the apartment when I get home from all this chaos. He and Amy are half-naked, and I almost turn around and walk out until Amy throws on her shirt to console me. That’s when Charlie rushes out to deal with Sawyer’s PR nightmare.
 

I’m in Amy’s arms, crying, when my phone rings again.
 

“Should I answer?” Amy asks.

“No. It’s probably just my mother again.”

“What if it’s Sawyer?”

I sigh. “Okay. But if it’s my mother I’m not home.”

She nods. “Hello?”

Pause.

She breathes in and out. “You’re a right douchebag, you know that? What did you say to him anyway? I can only imagine.” Pause.

I perk up, staring at her. It has to be Jason. This is my opportunity to ask for his help. Uh. The very thought sends shivers up my spine.
 

“Yes. She’s here. Not sure if she wants to talk, though.”

I reach my hand out and she makes a face, but hands it to me anyway.
 

“Jason?”

“Molly, thank God you’re okay. If he hurt you…”

“Sawyer wouldn’t hurt me. Are you in the hospital?”

He coughs. “No. They released me. I have a concussion, two wonderful black eyes and a broken nose.”

Hell of a punch. “Oh, Jason. But you’re okay?”

“As good as I can be.”

“Are you home? Because I’d like to come over. We need to talk.”

“I always have time for you, you know that.”

“Good. I’ll be over in a few.” I turn off the phone.
 

Amy’s eyebrows are meeting her hairline and her face is sour.

“If I don’t convince him to get the DA to drop the charges, Sawyer could go to jail, Amy.”

She shakes her head. “Be careful, Molly. He’ll only reel you back in.”

“I’d like to think I’ve changed a bit. He can’t pull the wool over my eyes like he used to.”

“Sure.” I hug her and head to the bathroom to clean up my face. I look like I’ve been to hell and back. My eyes are all puffy, my cheeks are red and my red wavy hair is a snarl of a mess. A few minutes later, I still look awful and I don’t much care. It’s not as if I’m trying to impress Jason.
 

At his apartment, I hesitate. I pray when I see Jason all banged up it doesn’t stir any feelings I have left for him. That wouldn’t be good, and it would be completely against the reason I’m here—for Sawyer.

He answers the door after I knock quietly.
 

Oh, God. He does look awful! “Jason.” I reach my hands out and touch his face. He was right about the black eyes, but there’s so much more discoloration. He has a white thing covering his nose, and all around it is purple.
 

“Did they give you something for the pain?” I ask.
 

He holds his hand over mine and looks at me the way he used to, the way he did when we were in love and I didn’t know better. I slide my hand out from under his. He steps aside and I walk in.

He heads to the kitchen and I follow. As I sit at the breakfast bar he opens a bottle of wine and holds a glass out to me.
 

“No thank you.”
 

He pours himself a large one, swirling it before taking a sip.
 

“How did this happen?” I ask him. “I mean, everything was fine when I left him in the dining room. How did everything go so wrong so quickly?”

He shrugs. “Who knows? He’s trash, Molly. Forget about him.”

“Well, he won’t even talk to me, so…”

Jason nods but doesn’t offer a response.
 

“Did someone say something to set him off?”

“I don’t know.” He takes another drink. But he doesn’t look at me when he answers and I’m sure he’s not telling the truth, at least the whole truth.
 

“You must have said something to each other before fists started flying.”

He scratches his cheek. “Well, considering my head injury, some of the details are a little fuzzy.”

I’ll bet. Way to be coy, jerk.