American Sweethearts

58

Alright, you win! 😂

I know you're all mad at me right now, but I'm trying to make it up to you! I can't help but end on a cliffhanger. I always worry you guys won't come back if I don't give you a reason to, but I'll spare you the details of my abandonment issues and fear of failure 😂

Here's a treat for you all. Thank you all so much for reading. 

I love you with all my heart. 

Please don't hate me after this 😂

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I throw the door open, barging into the police station. I'm completely out of breath, but I don't care. I ran all the way here and I'm not leaving unless Tyler is with me.

I contemplate asking the officer behind the administration deks, but before I can, Owen stands up, catching my attention. I march over to him.

"Where is he?" I ask, compleely out of breath.

"He's fine, okay? Breathe."

"I need to know where he is!"

"Sarah, relax!"

"Where is he!"

"Sarah!" Owen grabs onto my shoulders, focing me to look at him.

"Where is he?" I ask him.

"Sarah, breathe!"

"No, I can't!"

"You're going to have a heart attack!"

"No, I'm fine! Where is he?!"

"Sarah, Stop!"

"Where is he?!"

"Calm down and I'll tell you!"

"Tell me now!"

"Breathe first!"

I take a deep breath, but he's not satisfied with it.

"Breathe in," he breathes in. "And out."

I follow his movements, trying to stop my heart from jumping out of my chest. It's the same method my therapist taught me to deal with panic attacks.

I repeat the process over and over, counting my breathes as they come and go. I tune back into my sense, slowly coming to turns with my surroundings. My body is calming down, but my thoughts are still racing.

"Alright," I sigh. "Where is he?"

"He's in custody at the moment."

"What does that mean?"

"He's in jail."

"Here?"

"Yeah, he's in a cell down the hall."

"Can I see him?"

"Not right now."

"Why not?"

"because he doesn't want to see you."

"But I want to see him."

"It's not a good idea," he says. "He's a mess and you being there, isn't going to help him."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he needs to get sober so the cops can interview him, and if you're there, he's only going to get angry and fuck it all up."

"Why doesn't he want to see me?" I ask.

"I should be asking you that."

I let out a deep sigh, and take a seat on one of the plastic folding chairs. Owen sits beside me, waiting for me to tell him what happened.