Me After You Page 18

  I should be disappointed that I haven’t been able to gain her trust again, or that she wants to leave already, but I’m too grateful that she gave me hope for another day to be truly disappointed.

  “Okay,” I say and reach for the food wrapper she has balled up in her other fist. After I throw out our trash we get on my bike and I take her home.

  I cut the engine when I pull up in front of her house and help her off. She has to be the one to take her hand out of mine because I don’t want to let go. She doesn’t give me the option to walk her to her door.

  “Thanks for the dinner, Dean.” She tosses a wave and begins a hurried walk up the stone pathway to her porch.

  “Do you think maybe we can do this again?” I call. Even if she gives me a breadcrumb I’ll be happy. I can work with a breadcrumb.

  After pausing on her steps, Sawyer turns around to look at me. “We’ll see.” She doesn’t smile, but she also doesn’t glare, nor does she shoot me down completely, so I take that as more progress. She lifts another wave and walks inside of her house.

  I remain by my bike, looking up at her house. It hasn’t changed. The white paint is curling a little more around the edges of the siding, and the trees have grown taller, but that’s the only difference. I see the curtains in her front window flutter, and take that as my cue to leave. Mrs. Hartwell definitely hasn’t warmed up to me over the years. But I’m going to have to change that.

  SAWYER

  “DEAN?” MOM QUESTIONS after I close the front door. She’s peeking through the curtains, and I’m certain Dean is in an awkward staring match with her.

  “I got tired of being angry at him.”

  “Is that all?”

  “What else is there to say?” I really don’t want to talk about this with her. Being with him for those couple hours took all the emotional sanity I had for one night, possibly for the week.

  I hear the engine of Dean’s motorcycle rev to life before he takes off. She finally releases the curtain back in place and looks at me. “He’s not good enough for you, Sawyer.” Those words hold no meaning to me anymore. She used to repeat them to me nearly every day.

  Before I can react she says, “Don’t pretend like that boy didn’t ruin your life.”

  “I decide that. I decide who ruins my life.” I point to my chest. “Me. It doesn’t just happen. I get to make decisions for my life. If he ruined my life, it’s because I let him. And if I want to spend one night with Dean, so be it. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  Her face softens, and she strides over to me. “I’ll always be on your side, baby. Why do you think I have such a hard time watching that boy come around again? It was hard enough to see him come back after you left. And now I have to watch him crawl back on his hands and knees, while you stand with open arms. That boy doesn’t deserve that.”

  “What open arms?” I retort. “It’s taken me all of this time home to feel comfortable enough to have a conversation with him. You call that open arms? I’m doing everything I can to hold myself together around him. Give me some credit. I’m treading carefully.”

  Her shoulders sag, and I finally see in her eyes the one thing I can’t stand to see. Pity. “Sweetie, you’re grieving. You’re finally grieving. I don’t think you ever let yourself grieve all those years ago. There were tears and heartache, but then you bottled it up and moved away to Seattle. Just because you moved away doesn’t mean you moved on. Dean isn’t the answer. It’s time to let life take its course and then you can heal and move forward.”

  The tears start to form in my chest, clogging my airway. I swallow them back. “Mama, I want that in the past. Can we please keep it in the past?”

  “The past can’t stay there if you haven’t even worked through it to move forward.”

  “I’ve struggled every damn day to work through it. You don’t know what I’ve been through. You don’t understand half the pain I’ve felt. I’m doing the best I can.”

  “Then tell me, Sawyer,” she urges, walking closer to me. “Talk about it. Let out your anger and frustration. You’ve been bottling it and all it’s doing is piling up and festering. You can scream. You can cry. But at the end of the day, that won’t do a dang thing if you can’t talk about what you’re screaming about.”

  I grit my teeth. “I’m going to bed.”

  She sighs. “Okay.” There’s disappointment in her eyes, and it’s too much to look at any longer.

  “Goodnight.”

  “Night, baby.”

  I walk into my room and lock the door. Before my thoughts are making sense, I dive to the ground to look under my bed. My eyes spot the box pushed to the center. I don’t know why I’m going to it now. This box hasn’t been touched in over five years. Before I moved away I toyed with lighting it on fire, but in the end, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. There were too many memories in this box. And I need these memories now.

  I reach for it and drag it out. Taking a deep breath, I lift the lid. All at once, my brain fogs and goes on overload. I immediately slap the lid back on and breathe. What am I doing? This is a horrible idea. I don’t know what I hope I’ll gain from looking in it. Nothing good can come from looking through this box. But in the end, the rational side of my brain loses the fight. I’ve got to figure out why I’m willing to risk my emotional sanity for the boy who stole everything from me. It’s like I have a sick vendetta against myself. As if I have to punish myself for ever feeling that way. I don’t know why, but I don’t actually want to forget.

  I lift the cardboard lid and set it reverently at my side. Delicately placed on top is a plastic bag with a dried up dandelion inside. Some fuzz is still attached, but the rest of it has settled at the bottom of the bag. Not one dandelion have I passed and not thought of him. I take out the bag and gently place it on top of the lid.

  The box is filled with pictures of us and notes we wrote back and forth during school and traded during passing periods. I can’t look at the pictures. Those snapshots tell everything. They remind me of the good. They paint a happy picture of what we used to be in my head. They remind me of how much I loved him. I flip them over and shove them behind my back.

  There’s a concert ticket to see Novice and movie ticket stubs to every movie we ever went to together all stacked on top of one another. Underneath it all, I pull out one lone folded piece of paper. It looks like he tore off the corner of some notebook paper. I know what it says before I flip it open and see his handwriting in black ink.

  Surrender?

  Loving Dean is like fireworks when it’s not the Fourth of July. It’s sudden and explosive and it scares the crap out of me. Not because I don’t want to feel this way, but because I know he is my end game.

  I look at him, and I know.

  We’re wrestling in my backyard. He thought he could take a girl, but he’d never wrestled with me before. I don’t fight fair. I have an older brother. My strength isn’t enough to win in a match. I had to learn how to hold my own.

  He almost has me pinned on the ground. I’m facing him, and that’s his first mistake. His smile is wide across his face with a triumphant glow in his eyes. He’s taken hold of one of my arms and is frantically trying to grab hold of my flailing free arm that I refuse to give up.

  I stick my finger in my mouth and shove it in his ear.

  “SAWYER!” he hollers, choking on his laughter. I know I really caught him off guard because he says my real name. He sits back, rubbing his ear. “Did you just wet willy me?”

  I take his moment of weakness and flip him on his back. “I did what had to be done.” I kneel on his lean biceps, pinning him to the grass and ruffle his hair as he thrashes his head from side to side. I stick my finger in his ear again. Dry this time.

  “You fight dirty!”

  “Surrender!” I shout and pause to wait for his reply, calculating my next move.

  “No way!” he retorts with a chuckle. “That’s my line!”

  I raise my eyebrows and bite my bottom l
ip. “It’s mine now.”

  He shakes his head, but I see him giving in. I see the desire in his eyes to kiss me, but I hold back. I won’t give him what he wants yet. I have the upper hand here. Finally.

  “Do you surrender?”

  He pauses and lets his eyes soften. “Always.”

  It’s there in his green eyes, everything I know that is reflected back from mine. I love him. I don’t say it, and neither does he, but we know. It’s as if we want to savor the moment, the moment we first realize we’re falling… and falling hard.

  I shift down his body, hovering over him, and lean in to kiss his mouth. He breathes my name before our lips meet.

  All I say is, “I know.” Because I do.

  Anyone can say it, but knowing that it’s true is what makes it real.

  DEAN

  AIDEN HAS ME cornered in my office. I can’t wipe the stupid grin off my face. He knows something is up. There are customers out there that need help, and he’s ordered everyone else to handle it.

  “Funny,” I say, leaning against the wall. “I thought I was the boss.”

  Aiden closes the door and whirls on me. “Something happened. I know it did.” He points at my chest. “Spill it.”

  “Sawyer and I hung out.” I shrug to keep it light.

  Aiden throws a fist pump and jumps in the air. So much for trying to remain cool. “Finally!”

  “She let me take her to get burgers at Rita’s,” I say coolly to calm him down. I don’t need him adding any false hope. “It’s not a freaking commitment, Aiden.”

  “No, but its progress, man. She would hardly look in your direction before. Granted, it took her like seven months to get this far, but it happened, and that’s what matters. Did you tell her about Lily?”

  I exhale. I was hoping to avoid this part. After I tell him, I won’t hear the end of it. But he has to know so he doesn’t slip if he talks to her. “I’ve decided against it.”

  “Are you a freaking moron? She’ll never let you in. Why would you want to keep something like this from her? What if she hears it from someone else?”

  “Then she hears it from someone else, but it’s not as if Lily and I are the talk of the town.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You should be the one to tell her. She shouldn’t hear it third-party.”

  “You don’t know Sawyer the way I do. I need to ease her back into this. She just needs a friend right now, and if she knows it’s over between Lily and me, she’ll think too much about it. She won’t let me get within a mile of her. I can be a friend. Even if that’s all I get to be, I’ll take it. I’ll be good with that.” For now.

  “You’ll never be good if friends is all you get. Don’t kid yourself.”

  “I refuse to push it, Aide,” I retort. “I will accept whatever she is willing to give me for now. We will have to see where it goes from here.”

  Aiden closes his eyes and shakes his head in disapproval, but he says, “You’re right. Take it slow. But don’t let the charade of you and Lily staying a couple jeopardize all that you’re working toward here. She could completely lose it if she knew you were lying to her the entire time. Honesty is the best policy.”

  I want to punch him, but I hold back. “I know, but I have to take that chance. She can’t know yet. It’s not the right time to bring it up.”

  “Just be smart about it.”

  “Am I seriously taking advice from a guy that thinks the best way to lure a woman in is through snarky comments and making her jealous?”

  “I know women. I’ve got three sisters.” He holds up three fingers and wiggles them.

  I toss the rag in my pocket at him. “Get back to work.”

  He laughs and opens the door. “It’s on. May the best man win.”

  “Are you seriously making a competition out of who will get the girl first?”

  “At the rate you’re going, I have a much better chance at winning over Alix before you do Sawyer.”

  I scoff and wish I had another rag to throw at him. “Now who needs a little more faith?”

  He flashes a goofy grin and darts out of my office. “Good luck, man. You’re going to need it,” he hollers, and I shake my head, though I know he’s right.

  SAWYER

  I WAIT FOR my hot chocolate at the counter of Moment In Thyme. I couldn’t stand my mom’s judgmental eyes this morning. After the other night, I went to bed without saying anything else to her. We haven’t spoken since. She watches me. Her words latched on to my heart, but I can’t let them sink in yet. I needed to get out, be on my own for a few hours, and get some fresh air.

  “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you might be stalking me.” His voice flows softly over my shoulder. The nearness of his gruff voice sends shivers down my spine.

  I turn toward him. Dean’s face is only inches from mine, and I flinch, backing into the counter, startled by his nearness.

  He laughs. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “Yes, you did.” I smirk. My lips want to smile, but I’m suppressing it. Between every class period, he used to hover behind me at my locker, waiting for me to notice him. When the moment was right all he had to do was whisper my name and I’d flail. It would give him enough amusement until the next break between class periods.

  “You caught me.” He licks his bottom lip and drags his teeth across it. My eyes instantly zone in on the gesture and butterflies explode into a frantic frenzy. Don’t think about it. Think about the color orange or rain. I actually kind of miss the rain in Seattle. Seattle… Grayson. No. Think about chickens or dying puppies. Ugh. So morbid.

  “Sawyer,” he prompts.

  “I’m sorry. What?” I blink. Freak.

  He snorts a short laugh. “You wanna sit? Do you have some place to be?”

  “I …” I hesitate, but go against my better judgment. Today is my day off, so I don’t have anywhere I need to be. I just had to get out of the house. “Okay.” I nod.

  He gets Haley’s attention and points to a table we’re about to sit at so she’ll bring my hot chocolate there.

  “It’s Tuesday,” I say, sitting down on one side of the table. “Don’t you have to be at work or something?”

  “I own my garage. I’ll go in when I need to go in.”

  “Must be nice to make your own hours.”

  He scoffs. “It’s not as luxurious as it sounds. I like the freedom of running the garage the way I want to run it, but it’s a lot harder than it looks and definitely not stress free. But it’s something I can call my own.”

  Haley appears and sets down two cups. “Dean, here’s your coffee. Black. Just how you like it. And Sawyer, your hot chocolate.”

  I look down at the two drinks. Did Dean tell Haley what he wanted? Was it while I zoned out? “Did you even order?” I ask.

  “Haley knows I never change it up.”

  “A regular, huh?”

  He stretches back against the booth. “Every morning. Sometimes I come in on Sunday when the garage is closed. She can brew it better than I can.”

  “That’s either really pathetic or true dedication.”

  “I like to think it’s a little combination of both.” His green eyes smile above the coffee cup as he takes a sip.

  He’s a thief and a liar. I shouldn’t want to sit here with him. He stole everything when he left—my heart, my soul, my life. But sitting across from him now makes me think he’s willing to surrender it all back to me, if I’m willing to let him. Am I willing to let him?

  “So, how’s your dad?” I realize then that I haven’t heard much about him since I moved back.

  “Well, it’s just me now.” He bites his full lips.

  “What happened to your dad?”

  “Died. Just before I came back. Rumor has it he had a heart attack. He was alone in our old house, and no one knew to check on him.” He shrugs, and I can’t tell if it’s because he really doesn’t care, or if it’s because there’s nothing he can do about it now so
he’s feigning indifference. Probably the latter.

  “I’m really sorry, Dean.” I don’t know why I say it. It’s one of the phrases I hate being told. It’s merely a filler when you have nothing else to say because there’s nothing else you can say. But I realize I am sorry. I know things were never easy where his dad was concerned, but he was still his father. It can’t be easy to lose, not just one, but both of your parents.

  “Don’t be. He was a dirtbag. I hated him, and he hated me, but life happens. I’ve moved past it.” He shrugs, but I see the underlying sadness. “It took a little bit of time, but I’ve come to terms with it.”

  I can’t say anything back because as harsh as those words sound, they might be partially true, and there’s nothing I can say that will make him feel better.

  “Lily’s probably worried about you,” I comment.

  He takes a sip of his coffee and shrugs. “Meh. Doubt it.”

  I lift my eyebrows. “Oh, I see. You have one of those trusting relationships where you don’t have to know each other’s whereabouts at all times.”

  He chuckles dryly and bites his lips nervously. “Yeah. Something like that.”

  Hours pass by on fast forward. Haley brings over food when she realizes we have no intention of leaving soon. We talk more about Grayson and Seattle. We talk about his garage and Aiden. He asks more about the bakery and where I want to end up.

  “The bakery makes me happy. It’s the one bright spot in my day. I’ve spent the last five years trying to figure out what I want to do with my life, and I think I’ve found it at Sprinkles. It’s just fallen into place.”

  “So why don’t you buy it? Take it over?”

  Hope fills my heart. “Someday. Polly’s not ready to give it up yet and,” I clear my throat, “I don’t really have the money for it. I’m kind of drowning in debt.” He raises a questioning brow. “Grayson’s school loans. But it’s fine. Someday it’ll all work out.”