Me After You Page 17

  “I know, but I’m making nice because I’m tired. I’m tired of hurting. I’m tired of hating. I’m tired of holding a grudge. It doesn’t mean I have to completely forgive him. It doesn’t mean I’m going to go running into his arms. It only means that when I see him on the streets I’ll wave rather than run. I’ll smile rather than scowl. It takes so much more energy to stay mad, and I’m so tired.”

  “Okay.”

  It concerns me when she says it like that. I know she’s not okay with it. “Alix?”

  “Okay. I understand where you’re coming from. I just know what ground zero looks like after Hurricane Dean lets loose, and I don’t want to revisit ground zero, Sawyer. Ever.”

  “I promise you I’m going to guard my heart like it’s the Crown Jewels.”

  “Where Dean is concerned, you don’t have the control to guard anything.”

  “Dean Preston?” Alix nearly shouts, and I immediately shush her, looking around at everyone near our lockers. “You like Dean Preston?” She says his name as if it’s a curse word, whispering it under her breath.

  “What’s wrong with Dean? He’s nice. And cute.” I exchange my calculus book for my chemistry book, replacing it in my locker on the stack of other textbooks and old notes.

  “He’s freaking hot, but that’s beside the point, Sawyer. I thought that date was a pity date. He basically cornered you in the hallway. There was no way you could have said no without looking like a complete shrew.”

  “I wanted to say yes,” I retort, trying to defend myself. Though I don’t know why I should have to. Alix should trust me. She’s my best friend. She should be rooting for me.

  “You’re serious.” She honestly can’t understand why.

  “Why is it so wrong to be serious about him? What has he ever done to you? It’s not like he’s a criminal.”

  “You don’t know that,” she interrupts me, and I roll my eyes, closing my locker. “You know why you can’t date him.” She stands in front of me, forcing me against my locker with only one place to look—at her. “Number one: your parents will blow a freaking gasket. They tolerated him for that first date, but there is no way they’ll keep cool if he becomes someone constant. Number two: his dad is a psycho recluse. After his wife left it was like buh-bye, Mr. Preston. No one ever sees that guy. Does he have a job? No one knows. It’s no wonder people scatter the hallways when they see Dean. But lastly and most importantly,” she points her finger at my chest, “that kid has the power to ruin you and your reputation.”

  I sigh and suppress another eye roll. “I don’t think he’s who everyone makes him out to be. When we hung out, he was thoughtful and respectful. He held open my doors and kept asking me questions to make sure I was comfortable. It was really sweet.” I hug my arms around myself, rubbing away the goose bumps. My stomach flutters when the gentleness in his eyes flashes in my memory.

  “Oh gosh…” Alix says dramatically. “You’re so far gone. There’s nothing I can say to talk you out of this, is there?”

  I shake my head with a smile when I see him walking down the hallway. His hands are tucked in the front pockets of his dark jeans. He holds his head with confidence, but not cockiness. The look in his eyes is the way it always is. Stoic in the most heartbreaking way, yet poised like he could take on the world. When he notices me, his eyes lighten as if he’s watching the sunrise for the first time. He lifts his chin once, the way guys do to acknowledge you, and I know I’d do anything to make him smile at me like that every day.

  For the rest of my life.

  “It’s different this time. I know better,” I tell Alix adamantly.

  “Somehow I don’t believe you, but it’s your life,” she surrenders. “I can’t stop you. And I understand why you have to do this. Just be careful.”

  “I don’t know why you think I wouldn’t be.”

  “Because I know you, and I know that Dean Preston has the ability to make you lose all good judgment.”

  “I resent that.”

  Alix purses her lips. “I didn’t say it to pay you a compliment.”

  ***

  When my phone rings a few days later, I pick up without looking. I’ve just gotten off work, and Alix and Blaine are known to habitually call me around the same time. They are the only ones that call me anymore, if you don’t count my mother. I pretty much burned every other relationship I ever had after Grayson died.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Sawyer?”

  When I hear his voice on the other end I freeze. How did he get my number?

  “Sawyer?” he repeats.

  “Hey,” I say as casually as I can manage, but it sounds completely strained.

  “I thought I lost you there for a minute.” I hear the smile in his voice. So many thoughts run through my mind on how to reply to his comment, but I keep them all to myself.

  “No, I’m here,” I manage.

  “I thought we could go grab a burger or something.” He sounds so casual, as if we talk all the time, as if it’s completely natural for him to call me and ask me to go out for burgers. I feel both anger and relief. It’s an exhausting combination of emotions.

  “You want to go out?” I ask, still trying to figure out how I’m going to answer him.

  “Friends eat food, right?”

  “Yeah, I just...” I want to come up with an excuse. Something, anything to give me a reason to say I can’t. And yet, I don’t. “Okay.”

  “So I’ll pick you up? In about an hour?”

  “Right now? You want to go right now?”

  “Well, I’m on my way home from the garage so I can shower, but yes. I’m hungry. Food sounds like a necessity if I want to live through the night.”

  I can’t hold back my laugh. “Okay. I’ll see you in an hour.”

  I hear the words come out of my mouth, and I can’t stop them. I hit end and stare down at the phone in my hand. Did I just agree to dinner with Dean Preston?

  ***

  The familiar rumble of his motorcycle approaches our street. I hear when he stops outside of my house, and I begin to pace. I can back out. I can tell him I’m not feeling well and take a rain check. He doesn’t have to know I won’t redeem the rain check.

  When he knocks at the door, I stop. I could not answer the door—pretend to forget because I have an emergency or a very important errand that absolutely cannot wait. Nope. It can’t wait. It’s the highest level of importance. I begin to back away from the door.

  “Sawyer, are you going to get the door?” Mom hollers from the study.

  Gah! He totally heard that.

  I take a deep breath and stride to the door. I roll my shoulders back in preparation with my hand on the doorknob. Taking a couple more breaths, I attempt to control my internal freak out.

  “Are you going to answer that?” I jump at the sound of my dad’s voice. I turn to see him sitting in the recliner in the far corner of the living room with a knowing smirk and a book in hand. It’s as if he knows who’s on the other side. He’s daring me to answer the door.

  I flush. He just witnessed my entire inner monologue. I’m about to respond when my mom’s voice echoes through the entryway. “What are you doing?” I turn to see her at the end of the hallway. “Why haven’t you answered it yet?”

  I glare at her. She has no idea how awkward she made this. And then I realize I really don’t want her to see me leave with him. I shift and breathe, preparing to open the door with her there. How am I going to explain this? What can I say to get her to walk away right now?

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Sawyer. Answer the door.” I want to strangle her. Wrap my fingers around her neck and shake. Instead, I turn away from her and open the door.

  Dean stands there with an amused expression on his face. There is no way he didn’t hear our entire exchange, and I want to crawl in a deep, dark black hole and die. For real this time.

  “You ready?” he asks. His lean body is dressed in jeans, a black shirt, and a dark leather jacke
t. He couldn’t be more cliché if he tried, and yet it doesn’t matter. He pulls it off flawlessly. My heart flutters.

  At the sound of his voice, my mom walks up and peeks out the door.

  His face falls, but he recovers and smiles. “Hey, Mrs. Hartwell. How are you?”

  “Hi, Dean. What an unexpected surprise.” The unwelcoming undertone in her voice is so obvious, I want to lock her in her room to keep this situation from being anymore awkward than it already is.

  If I were thinking clearly I would have waited outside for him. Why didn’t I wait outside for him? Why couldn’t I have thought of that five minutes ago? My parents didn’t really like him that much when we were dating, so you can imagine how they felt about him after he left me a crumpled mess.

  “We are going to get something to eat,” I step in. “I’ll be home in a couple hours.”

  She’s confused, but she nods. “Don’t be too late.”

  I toss a wave and walk out the door followed by Dean. “Bye, Mrs. Hartwell. It was good to see you.”

  “Bye, Dean.” I don’t miss the fact that she doesn’t share his sentiments, so I know it can’t be lost on him.

  I hear her close the door, but I know she’ll be watching through the curtains. When we reach his bike, he hands me a motorcycle helmet, and I suddenly feel nauseous. I haven’t been on his bike in years. It might be a different, newer, and improved bike now, but it’s a motorcycle nonetheless.

  “Are you okay?” he asks with a hint of knowing in his voice.

  I breathe and realize I’m staring at the bike with a look that says I might puke. “Yeah, it’s just been a while.”

  He stops before putting on his helmet. “If you would rather, we can take your car…”

  “No, it’s fine.” I’m being ridiculous. It’s a stupid ride on a motorcycle. I can be civil and mature about this.

  “You sure?” He’s offering me an out, but I can’t take it now. He’ll see right through me. I refuse to back down and show him how this affects me.

  “Yes.” I toss my hand in the air to brush him off.

  He throws his leg over the motorcycle, steadying it for me to get on behind him. When I straddle the motorcycle, up against his back, I start to second-guess my answer. Maybe my car would be the smarter choice. He’s awfully close. My thighs brush the sides of his hips, and I know I made the wrong choice, but I can’t back out now. He starts the engine, and I reluctantly wrap my arms around his waist to feel more secure. His muscles tense under my touch, but he tries to relax. He’s not overly successful, but then we’re off.

  Around every turn and curve, I hold on a little tighter and feel him shake with laughter. His enjoyment at my expense is expected, but he’s enjoying it a little too much. When we stop at a traffic light his hand drops onto my thigh. It’s a natural reflex. I know because that’s where his hand always use to lay when we were at a standstill.

  It takes a moment, but he finally flinches and removes his hand. He turns his head slightly over his shoulder. I can’t hear him, but I know he apologizes. His hands grip the handlebars, and then the light turns green.

  ***

  Dean orders first at Rita’s Diner and without my permission orders for me, not giving me the option to pay. I should be annoyed that he ordered for me, but he got me exactly what I would have gotten myself. I’m more annoyed that he paid for me, making me feel like this was a date as opposed to two old friends catching up. We get the burgers to-go and head toward the park.

  When I glare at him he chuckles and asks, “What?” But he knows exactly what my eyes are conveying. “Just thought I’d do something nice for a friend. Nothing more.”

  “Dang straight it’s nothing more.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  We sit on the park bench closest to the pond, near where I first saw him with Lily, and I instantly feel uneasy. She couldn’t possibly be okay with us hanging out. Not that I’m all that worried about her feelings. She obviously has no respect for mine. But this couldn’t look good to anyone else who passes by. I know I shouldn’t care about what everyone else thinks, but I do.

  “So, what was he like?” Dean breaks the silence.

  “Wow. You’re really ready to dive right on in.”

  He chuckles. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. We don’t have to talk about him if you’re not ready yet.”

  I glance over at him to really gage his interest. “You really want to talk about Grayson?” It surprises me how easy Grayson’s name falls from my lips when I couldn’t say Dean’s name during all of those years.

  “Yeah.” He talks around chewing his burger, trying to cover his mouth to be polite. “He was your husband, Sawyer. You loved him. He was important to you. I want to know how he stole your heart.”

  My fingertips cover my lips. That last statement was so off base, if I speak now, I’ll give away the truth. It’s hard to steal a heart when there’s hardly one there to take. Grayson patched my heart. He took what fragments he could find and pieced them together to create something barely capable of beating, but that’s all it needed. Sometimes, I think if only I could have met Grayson first, things would have been so much different. I might have lost him in the end, but I wouldn’t feel this damaged. I wouldn’t feel so jaded.

  I haven’t been able to talk about Grayson since I came back to Willowhaven, but for some reason I feel like I can talk about him with Dean. He makes me feel at ease. He always did—that hasn’t changed.

  I finish my bite, debating on where to start. “Gray… Grayson always knew the right thing to say to me. I could be fuming mad at him, and he’d find the button to shut it off, and I hated him for it.” I chuckle. “I wanted to be able to stay mad, but he couldn’t handle that. He’d crack a joke or smile just right, and my anger would melt away.”

  “Did he keep a manual somewhere? I’d really like the directions to that skill.”

  My smile broadens, and I look to the ground.

  “What else?” he prompts.

  “Umm, he used to make these faces that creeped me out, while somehow making me laugh without fail every time.” I chuckle again. “My favorite was the goat. He’d pull out his upper lip and bottom lip and ‘bah’ like a goat.” I peer over at Dean who’s watching me carefully. “I know it’s stupid.” I smile, looking back to the concrete. “But he was actually really good at it.” A small laugh leaves my lips when I hear Grayson’s goat noises play in my head.

  “I don’t think it’s stupid,” he says quietly. “He sounds like he was good for you.” He pauses. Yeah, he was. “Is it getting easier?”

  I meet his eyes. “No.” I shake my head and take a sip of soda, buying some time. “The pain isn’t as fierce, but it hasn’t faded. I think it’ll always be there. I’ll just get used to living with it.”

  He nods with understanding.

  Maybe he does.

  I shrug because I have nothing else to add. Not that I couldn’t talk about Grayson for hours. I just can’t talk about him with Dean anymore. I want to keep him to myself. I don’t want to give his memory away. As if sharing things about him could take them from me. I’m not ready for Dean to take him away from me.

  “So, Lily.” It pops out before I can stop myself. It felt like the progression in our conversation. We talked about Grayson, so now it’s his turn. It’s not as if I want to talk about her. If we talk about her, I know I’m going to start saying things that I don’t want to get into now. I’ll say things I’ll regret. Not that I’ll regret saying them, per se, but I’ll regret saying them to him.

  He shifts. I should retract it, but the words are out there now.

  I decide to approach it more casually. “What’s she up to tonight?”

  His shoulder lifts. “She’s probably at home watching some sitcom reruns. She really likes those detective shows that don’t have much of a storyline. The ones you can jump into and try to solve the crime of the current episode.”

  “I remember that about her.” I nod and a
sk the question that has been nagging at me for months. I’m not sure I want to hear the answer, but I ask anyway. “Does she make you happy?”

  DEAN

  THE QUESTION HANGS in the air, and I have no idea how I’m supposed to answer her honestly. In her eyes I see hope. Whether it’s hope that Lily doesn’t make me happy or hope that she does, I can’t be certain.

  Does Lily make me happy? Or more accurately, did she ever make me happy? She was good at making me temporarily forget. Was that the same as happiness? Probably not. She was good at making me feel a little lighter, but never in the same way that Sawyer ever did. What I liked most about Lily was that somehow, though they were best friends, she didn’t remind me of Sawyer. Nothing about her brought back memories of Sawyer.

  I take too long to answer. “You know what?” she says. “I don’t know why I asked that. Don’t answer that.” Sawyer lifts her fingers to brush her waves of hair behind her left ear.

  Her wrist flashes the black dandelion on her porcelain skin. I catch sight of something more to it and my curiosity gets the best of me. “Can I see the tattoo?”

  She swallows, but nods her head and hands me her left wrist uncertainly. It’s a small tattoo, covering about two or three inches of her arm. The dandelion has a patch missing as if it’s been blown away. A few specs of fuzz drift up toward her palm and end with a single little black bird. My thumb brushes over it, and I hear her small intake of breath.

  “What kind of bird is that?” I ask gently. Just touching the soft skin on the inside her wrist makes me question, Lily who?

  “It’s a sparrow,” she says quietly.

  “Why a sparrow?” I ask. “Does it mean anything?”

  “The simple answer—love.”

  I look up at her, cradling her wrist in the palm of my hand. I’ll always be gentle with her. “And the complicated answer?”

  “We will have to save that for another day,” she states, pulling away from me and getting up swiftly. She stands, waiting for me to join her. “You ready?” Her voice is full of false cheerfulness, and I want to call her on it, but I don’t.