THE LIFESPAN OF AN AVERAGE HUMAN BEING

She ended up in my sweater seconds after getting in the truck. Our fingers were intertwined on the seat between us. We hadn't spoken a word since leaving the pizza parlor. It wasn't awkward. It felt like contentment. And since neither of us got a phone call nor text asking where we were, neither of us were in a rush to get home.

I heard thunder roll overhead as the rain pelted my windshield. Sawyer was the opposite of her brother. He packed an emergency bag for tornado preparation when it started getting dark outside. She's sticking her hand out the window to feel the rain against her skin.

The worst part about autumn storms was waking up in the morning to find the burnt leaves had fallen from the trees. The worst part about tonight? I'm going to pull into the driveway, and the curly-haired girl is going to disappear into her room tonight.

And since we weren't getting any messages or phone calls, I pulled off the highway. When I turned onto a backroad cover in tress, she cocked her head in curiosity. When I made it to the edge of the cliff, where the city sat before us in its glory, I killed the power to my truck.

"I love the sound of rain," she breathed out.

My head fell back, watching her relax against the seat. I noted how her chest seemed to rise as slowly as it fell. The muscles in her shoulder looked more relaxed than they ever have like her worries washed away in the storm.

I knew about the war raging in her head. Still, I've never seen someone look so at peace.

What I would do to hear about the horrors happening in her head. Would it help ease the terror? Or would it make her even more nervous to know someone was in on the story? She'd never be able to hide then, and it's something she's good at.

"I can feel you staring at me."

Her head rolled to the side to look at me as I grinned. "Because I am."

I could almost hear her smiling, but watching it happen had been even better.

"Why do you think we're envious of people's ability to change?"

The space between my eyebrows crinkled. "Are you?"

"Fletcher was able to change and I'm envious of that."

"Why?"

"Because I'm wondering why I haven't."

I watched that smile on her face slowly fade. "Fletcher didn't become a different person overnight. He suffered from nightmares until he didn't. I can't tell you when I stopped waking him up from the terrors of his mind, but one night we went to sleep, and we made it through the whole night."

"How long did it take for him to get there?"

I shrugged, unable to answer her question. "Change didn't happen because he grew accustomed to the pain. He accepted his past. He realized life didn't happen to him. It happened for him."

"What does that mean, though? I've tried making sense of it, and pretending like there's some lesson to be learned for people being terrible humans has me lost because I don't know why it had to happen, and I don't know how to change."

"You want to know the key to change? It's that nothing changes and everything changes. The world continues to spin, and you wake up every day breathing, but how you breathe today compared to how you breathed yesterday is different."

"It feels like the pain will never go away."

"It doesn't, but once we accept why we feel the way we do and understand why we never deserve to feel like that again, we can accept our pain. It starts to hurt a little less and make a lot more sense."

"What if it makes us a bad person?"

"Acknowledging it means you won't," I tightened my hand over hers.

"I feel like less of a human every time I'm alone with myself."

"According to who, though? Just because someone says the sun isn't bright doesn't mean it's not. It is. It's just their perspective," I pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Just because someone make you feel like less of a human doesn't mean you are. You're enough for the right person. Sometimes the right person is yourself."

"Are you enough for yourself?"

My blood ran cold the second she asked, and without hesitating, I shook my head. "No."

"Why?"

"Because I believe it," I dropped her hand. "And it's true."

"Carter – "

"Don't," I clenched my jaw, hoping she'd leave it. "It's not a subject I'm willing to touch right now."

"You can't expect me to be open with you and close yourself off from me."

I flipped the key, starting my truck. "I know there's some voices in your head that aren't kind to you, Sawyer. You don't deserve that."

"And you do?"

"Yes," I snapped. "I do. I really fucking do. You have no idea what I'm capable of or what I've done in my past."

"In your past? You expect me to judge you on your past?"

"I don't give a fuck who judges me. I really don't," I avoided her gaze as I pulled onto the main road. "There's nothing you'll say out loud or think in that pretty little head of yours that could possibly be close to the things I tell myself."

"Carter – "

"I'll let you close, but I'll never let you get hurt, and that's all that's gonna happen if I tell you what's going on in my head."

She didn't say another word. She didn't even try to think of something else to say. Her body shifted closer to the door, and the moment she tucked her hands away between her thighs, I knew I ruined something. Wasn't sure what it was yet, but she hadn't looked at me the whole ride home.

The moment I pulled into the driveway, she flung the passenger door open. I hadn't stopped the truck before she slid out.

"Sawyer!" I slammed on my brakes as my door clapped shut.

I saw the way she wiped her face as she climbed the steps. "Sawyer! Please, stop!"

She flipped around, and I felt pain like I never had. There's tears streaming down her cheeks, and she's breathing so hard like it's a struggle to hold back the sobs.

"Did you know the life span of the average human being is thirty-thousand days? Take 365 and multiply it to your age."

"Sawyer – "

"You're twenty-five, Carter. Do the math. Then ask yourself; is this how you want to spend the rest of your life? Thinking you're not worthy of anything just because you've done a few bad things. Just because a few bad things happened to you? I guarantee you that answer changes when you start thinking about it."

Fuck.

I didn't know what to say. Not to her, and even if I thought of something, she disappeared somewhere in the fucking house. Now everyone in the kitchen is staring at me, wondering what the fuck happened.

They're not alone. I am trying to figure it out too. How did we go from kissing in a parking lot to this? She's upstairs where I didn't want her to be, and I'm staring at the staircase wishing the night would've ended differently.

"What the hell happened?"

I directed my attention to Cade. "Drop it."

"You were right," Cade smacked Tory on the chest. "Carter's got a thing for Fletcher's little sister!"

I listened to their laughter on my way up the steps because if I didn't go after her, I'd do something I'd regret, and I was already struggling to sleep at night. I can't have another thing on my conscious.

My head fell against her door, hoping she'd answer when I knocked, but I heard her crying, and I knew there was nothing I could say that would make her unlock this door.

I tried anyway.

"9,125 days. That's how long I've been alive," I squeezed my eyes shut as I rested my hands on the door. "I've known you for 180 of them, and they've been the happiest days of my life. It mean I have less than 21,000 days left, and if I have to spend every single one making it up to you, I will. Regardless of what happens, I want to spend it all with you. So, please, come out of your room because I'm sorry, and this isn't how I wanted the night to end."

I heard the floor creak.

My heartbeat accelerated as the lock clicked, and when the door opened, I felt my heart fall from my chest. Staring at her as tears fell from her eyes made me realize something – I never wanted to witness this again.

She wouldn't cry again. Not because of me. Not because of somebody else. I knew in this moment I'd burn the world down. I'd bring it to its knees. Anything to make it pay for how she'd been hurting.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

She wrapped her arms around herself. "Promise me something?"

"Anything."

"Don't fade out trying to keep the light on for everybody else," she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Switches get turned off during the day because we have the sun. Let somebody be your sun, okay?"

"Sawyer – "

"Goodnight, Carter," she began shutting the door. "I hope you find rest."

I stared at the door, knowing it wouldn't open back up.

I listened to the floorboards creak because she walked away.

I knew she wasn't coming back because the light disappeared from beneath the door, and I stood there with one thing going through my mind.

"Don't fade out trying to keep the light on for everybody else."