*BECKETT
Without thinking, I moved to the door and strode out of the lab room.
There, across the hall, I saw her. Alone. Sitting on the examining table. Relief. I only felt relief.
I pressed down on the handle and slipped inside.
Sage looked over at me but didn’t say anything. It had only been a few days, and yet, in that moment, with that look on her face, it felt like so much longer. I knew I didn’t have permission to come any closer. Something pressed down on my chest, crushing me.
“Sage, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Her face contorted into a look far beyond hurt. “Why?”
“I couldn’t Sage, your mom, my aunt and uncle…”
“Your aunt and uncle?” Her voice rose. “You mean your parents?”
This isn’t how I wanted this conversation to go. “I’m sorry. They—”
Sage shook her head, interrupting.
“I thought we meant more to each other.” She glanced away, her eyes laced with tears. “If it was me, I would have told you.”
My heart plummeted. I didn’t know what to say, because I knew it was true. If the roles were reversed, and everything was the same, she would have told me.
I thought about saying what I’d always planned. That my father threatened us with Jack’s life if we ever spoke the truth of Vasterias. That her mom, even though she hadn’t known the full truth about why we had come, had still refused to let us say anything, unless we wanted to be sent away. But none of that was enough. Not here. Not now. Not with that look in her eyes. It would all sound like excuses. They were all excuses.
I was losing her. Why had I listened to Jeff and Peg? Why had I been so afraid of the rules? It was worse, to have felt the possibility of a life with Sage, only to see the look on her face now. I should have told her the truth the day I met her. Then everything would be different. We’d be far away from here. She’d be safe.
She cleared her throat, as if gathering strength. Her voice was hard when she spoke.
“My mother?”
My chest ripped in half. I didn’t want to tell her this way. I wanted to reach out for her, to wrap my arms around her. I needed time for explanations, to grieve with her, to tell her where I’d buried her mom. To tell her I was sorry.
But she sat there, looking at me, closed off and shutting me out, regardless of what we’d been to each other.
She read my eyes. I could tell when she understood, because an incomprehensible amount of pain flickered across her face. It felt as if the ground disappeared below me. I was falling into a dark, black hole.
“Sage…” I didn’t know what I would say, but I would say something. Anything to make this better; to make our pain somehow go away.
She was about to cry—I could see it in her eyes, across her face.
The far corner door opened, and another doctor, tall and thin, stepped into the lab room, freezing when he saw me. The doctor’s eyes flickered from me to Sage, assessing the two of us. When neither of us moved, he cautiously made his way toward the table next to Sage, eyeing me.
This was so far from anything I had wanted.
Slowly, I pushed down on the door handle, then backed away, out into the hall.
She didn’t look at me again.
*
Numbness. That’s all I felt. Numb.
Dad was waiting for me across the hall in the other lab room, murmuring something to the two guards.
“Now you’ve seen her,” he said to me. “Care to share the information?”
“I need to see Finn,” I said, hollow.
My dad crossed his arms, assessing me. “Fine, I can have someone take you to the west wing to see him. I’m beginning to doubt that you have any information anyway. Dallamore is still the lazy pushover he always was.”
The door pressed open, and the doctor from Sage’s room stepped inside. He hesitated, seeing me in the room.
“What is it?” Dad said.
The doctor cleared his throat. “I’ve sent the girl on her way, but something interesting appeared in her bloodwork. Thought you might want to come have a look.”
My dad furrowed his brow, but a look flickered across his face. I’d seen it many times: curiosity, an interest in the inner workings of someone else’s body.
The look made me sick to my stomach.
Dad addressed one of the guards. “Take him to the west wing to see the boy.” He turned to me. “Then, Beckett, we’re going to have a nice long chat.”